Snoopy at Work

My nine-year-old daughter called me at work one weeknight asking permission to sleepover with a friend.  The question was a formality, since she knew the answer.  No week night sleepovers. I hadn’t met or spoken to parent.  A doctor was listening when I got message my daughter called.  He could only hear my end of conversation.  After her request for permission, I merely said, “No, her mother is a child molester and her father is a murderer.”  I hung up and went back to work.   “What the Hell was that?”  He asked.  “Oh, my daughter wanted to sleepover at the neighbor’s”. He spewed coffee on his chart