Last night, I was at home, sitting at the dinner table, casually reflecting on the day while sipping on some delicious nips of Fireball Cinnamon Whiskey when my wife storms up from the basement:
"What the hell is all that shit down there!?"
"The boxes?" I ask, pretending to not know what she's talking about.
"Yeah, the boxes- what the hell is all that crap?" she demands to know.
"Those are the NIPYATA's I was telling you about. They are gonna sell like hotcakes, sweetie." I responded with a confident smile.
Then came the death stare.
Anyway, the moral of the story is there is NO GOOD TIME TO DISCUSS 500 NIPYATAS STORED IN THE BASEMENT.
So please get your orders in quickly before my wife throws out all of our inventory. Thanks and have an awesome day!
-Señor Nippy Yata