Dogbert enters the living room carrying the newspaper. He thinks, "Oh good, Dogbert isn't around. I can read the Sunday paper without having to share." Dilbert sits in his chair and thinks, "Ahhh . . . Mine are the first hands to unfold its crisp little pages. I alone determine the order of reading." Dilbert thinks, "Nobody will blurt out the punchlines before I read them." Dogbert flies through the air onto Dilbert's lap. Dogbert knocks the chair over and the paper scatters on the floor. Dogbert asks, "Were you finished with this section?"