A precious little girl walks into a pet shop and asks in
the sweetest little lisp, "Excuthe me, mithter, do you keep widdle
wabbits?"
As the shopkeeper's heart melts, he gets down on his
knees, so that he's on her level, and asks, "Do you want a widdle white wabbit
or a thoft and fuwwy bwack wabbit or maybe one like that cute widdle
bwown wabbit over there?"
She, in turn blushes, rocks on her heels, puts her hands
on her knees, leans forward and says in a quiet voice, "I don't fink my
pet pyfon weally gives a thit."