D. and I had this conversation yesterday evening:
"Hey, look, there's a moving van in front of the empty house next door."
"Those must be our new neighbors. We can watch them unload their van and see what kind of stuff they have."
"All their stuff is in boxes. They don't want anybody to know what kind of stuff they have."
"Ooh, secretive. That's very suspicious."
"Very suspicious indeed. They're secretive about their stuff, and their van is enormous. They must be drug dealers, then."
"They must! That explains it, then."
"That guy just lifted up that huge box and carried it inside as though it weighed nothing. He must be on drugs!"
"Yes, he must be on drugs. And the box must be full of drugs too. All their boxes, nothing but drugs inside, every last one of them."
"They want us to think they're just normal neighbors with clothes and books and normal stuff in their boxes, but no. Every last cupboard, closet and cubbyhole in their house is going to be jam-packed with nothing but drugs! Unloaded from their enormous van and unpacked from their huge boxes!"
"And they're moving in right next door. Them and their huge drug boxes and enormous van! Next door! To us!"
"Well then, we must call the police! We won't be having any of that in our neighborhood! They're busted!"
"Hmph. The nerve of them and their drugs, moving in next door. To us."
And at that point we exhausted the joke and ran out of witty repartee.
I'm sure they're really very nice people.