Captain’s brother went to a Cougar den the other night. He tells us,

“This bar is renowned for its cougars. Manthers too.”

I exclaim,

“Manthers! I haven’t heard that before.”

Captain’s brother tells Captain,

“You’re a manther.”

“Almost.”

He’ll be forty any day now.

Captain’s brother goes on to describe a woman hitting on him at the bar. He says,

“But she wasn’t even a cougar, she was in her sixties.”

Someone asks,

“If she’s not a cougar, what do you call her?”

He thinks for a minute,

“Granimal.”