On the way back from lunch today, my husband and I passed a buzzard feasting on the carcass of a squished possum. Of course that triggered a whole load of tasteless jokes about what buzzards would like to eat, which ended with hubbylove saying "Mmmm, I'd love some mouse flambooie."
There was a stunned silence as I tried to figure out what he was talking about, and if I should find it funny; and as he was mentally reviewing the spelling of the word because it didn't sound quite right. Just about the time I realized what he meant–he burst out with "… flambe', mouse flambe'!"
I've totally got to create a recipe called Flambooie now.
Heh heh… can't stop saying it.