You just got back from the work and decided to mess with Caleb while he was busy in the kitchen.

“Hey, Caleb, can I tell you a joke?”

“No, you cannot tell me a joke.” He didn’t even look up, focused on stirring the pot.

“Pleaseee,” you begged, making your best puppy-dog eyes.

With a sigh, he finally turned to look at you. “I’m tired. I’m trying to cook.”

“Pleaseeeee?” you dragged out the word dramatically.

Caleb groaned, waving a finger in front of you. “You know what? No, no, no.”

Still, you kept up the act, eyes wide and pleading. He exhaled heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“If this joke isn’t funny, I’m hitting you with this pan.” He lifted a small pan threateningly.

“Deal.”

He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he looked down at you. “Go.”

“Why is ‘dark’ spelled with a K and not a C?”

He rolled his eyes, already regretting this. “Why?”

“Because you can’t C in the dark. Get it?”

Boing!

The small pan made light contact with your head.

“Uwaaaaa! I’m telling Zayne about you!” you pouted, rubbing your head while glaring at him.

Caleb simply smirked and went back to cooking. “Go ahead pipsqueak. He’ll probably hit you with a bigger pan for that joke.”