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?