"🎶You- You make me feel like I'm going crazy So, I was hoping you could tell me maybe- What's going on?"
Mister: Papa, let's play Big Words/Mean Words. Pris: It's funnier when it's whispered in public, but sure.
Mister: Dimly Brownhock, the jock guy. His clothes? Pris: Pauperising. His hair? Mister: Unprepossessing. His voice? Pris: Raucous. His personality? Mister: Churlish.
Pris: Hmmmm ok. Mrs. Cheerilee. Her clothes? Mister: Pedestrian. Her hair? Pris: Abhorrent. Her voice? Mister: Titilating~! Pris: [frowns] Titillating isn't a "mean word" Mister: Well, I like Mrs. Cheerilee. She's my type of lady~ Pris: A married mom of two? Mister: Yaaaassssss mommy Pris: Urgh. You're disgusting. Mister: Any day now, she'll leave her husband for me. At least for one night~! Pris: Yah? While we're in La-la Land, can I lose the periods? I don't plan on having children. Mister: Hardy har! And no, you may not. And when you're mommy age, you can have menopause. Pris: Stop saying mommy, and great…the future looks bright. Mister: I wanna get a big ol' beer belly when I'm older. Like the wise professor kind, not the sad alcoholic type. Pris: Brothel whore. Mister: Apple farmer. Pris: Below the belt, Mister. Mister: Don't dish what you can't serve!
Pris snorts as Mister breaks out into his signature cackling. The two lay there and listen as Pristine's phone plays.
"🎼So- Wanna get some coffee? Talk about it? …Not particually🎶