The Writer, Wolves and the Woodsman

"Hey, look at the geese gathered on the island in the pond.  What are they doing?" Woodsman uttered as he peered out of the window. "It's a Quackternity meeting. haha."  Replied Writer, tired and bored with day four of product and schema pricing updates at her remote job. Woodsman looked at her, then back out the window, facepalmed and shook his head.  A little while later he said, "Wow, now there are ducks sitting there with the geese: four drake mallards and two wood ducks."  "See, it's a Freatheren. Like brethren... because frats are, you know..." Writer chuckled anticipating another facepalm from the Woodsman.  Instead he kissed her on the forehead and said, "I love you. Did the waterfowl just foul?" "Now there are four geese. They're multiplying and not even by making goslings." Said Woodsman. "That does it. I'm not going outside without a golf club — or murder puppy." Replied Writer. The joke: S

We got new hats! Items not (necessarily) meant for shotgun shells “I’d be a bread ball in a shotgun shell with you.” - Writer “Wouldn’t that be bread shot?” - Woodsman “Depending on the grain... haha.” - Writer Facepalms abounded. The things Woodsman has allegedly* put in a shot-shell would amaze you. Bread balls were the yeast of it. ;) It’s getting sprouty... “Your farts are peppery, too? Did you, umm, eat the sprouts?” - Writer “You ate the sprouts?” - Woodsman “The ones in the fridge were still good. But they likely won’t be good after today.” - Writer said quickly. “Well, then feed them to the Sarlacc Pit.” - Woodsman said gesturing to the garbage disposal. And she did. And then they canoodled — all night.