Woman A: So how was Where the Wild Things Are? You know, my son is just crazy about that book.
Woman B: Yeah, me too blah blah blah but I think the movie's probably too scary for little, little kids. You should probably wait till he's grown-up. Then it'll be like the movie grew up with you. I think it's really for grown-ups, but for the kid in you, you know?
Woman A: Uh-huh.
Johnson (which is not his real name): He calls me "daddy," but I swear, Officer, he's older than I am!
The preceding was overheard while attempting to enjoy my mid-shift break.
This was the first time I'd seen "Johnson," the resident lovable flaming gay guy, since he was moved out of the main lab ("gen pop," as I call it) months ago. Despite his time away, he was clearly as sharp as ever, as he wasted no time butting in just to crack an obscene joke to climax someone else's conversation.
I had to excuse myself from the break room right then and there, but even I could not deny how practically perfect the witticism was on reflection. I would never have spotted that one, but even if I had, the joke would not have meant as much coming from me, nor from anybody other than Johnson. Now, thanks to him, I'll never be able to hear the expression "the kid in you" without it conjuring up horrible images.