In a fantasy kitchen, a witchy-looking mother looks angrily at her beautiful adolescent daughter. The mother points toward a big oven.

Mother: Daughter, I’ve tolerated your adolescent whining for long enough. Into the oven!

Daughter, aghast: Are you saying you’re my stepmother?

Mother: What? No.

Daughter: Oh. You’re sure I was incubated in your womb?

Mother: For nine terrible months I will never get back, you monster.

The daughter crawls into the oven and pulls out a bone.

Daughter: Okay, you scared me for a moment. I’ll clean out all these bones for you.

P.S. Our bills are paid by our wonderful patrons. Could you chip in?

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