On Monday my wife packed her bags. "I'm leaving you, Larry." she said. I nodded and changed the channel.
On Tuesday, my dog left me. "I'm off." he said and cocked his leg at the sofa. I nodded and turned up the volume.
On Wednesday, my television tried to escape: "I am getting out of here," it said. I smiled.
"You're not going anywhere," I replied. I nailed the bastard to the floor.