Dopey? Yo!

I was kidding when, after ordering a doppio espresso at Starbucks on Friday afternoon, I told the lumpy sloth behind the counter that, really, I wanted a doppio doppio.
“You mean a quad?” he said.
“I … guess,” I said. “But if I had that, I’d turn into a doppio!” I snickered to bring attention to my hilarious semi-sorta pun.
“You want a trippio?” he said.
I said sure, what the hell, and avoided making a joke about trippio-ing over my own feet.
“I have eight quads a day,” he said, his monotone full of all the spirited and energetic joie de vivre of a catatonic on quaaludes. “I couldn’t stand up if I didn’t.”
What an effective spokesperson!