a/n: …...hey guys. how you doin'?

"Okay, but what if we knocked out the guard first?"

"We're not robbing a bank."

"You know what Beck, fine, fine, just stomp on my dreams with your steel-toed boots and laugh at my corpse, why don't you!"

"Oh my God, stop saying stuff like that!"


"It's creepy."

"Is this why you always spend half our dates with your eyes closed?"

"I wouldn't have to if you didn't make me go see those— blood-fest movies!"

"Ha. Pansy."

"Seriously, you could probably drown in the amount of blood in the last one."

"You can hide in my shoulder if you want."

"An ocean of blood."

"Now who's creepy, you psycho."

"What? Suddenly an 'ocean of blood' that you wanted to see is creepier than you talking about your own corpse?"

"But I'd like my corpse."

"...Like, should we go see Lane again, or...?"

"No! God, don't even say that, you traitor."

"Okay, you know he means well—"

"We don't need any more pamphlets about venereal diseases!"

"Actually, my dad is taking a papier-mâché class and I let him shred them to use for practice."

"Since when is he taking a— I didn't even know those existed."

"Yeah, well."

"...We should go visit him."

"You're only saying that because he lets you eat his food."

"Pretty much."

"...Fine, I'll make dinner."

"Good girl."

"Stop that!"

"But I like emasculating you."

"I'm going to develop a complex."

"I can only hope."

"And then we'll end up on a talk show about relationships. But not a classy one. The kind where people take their shirts off."

"Oh, I'm sure you'd like that."

"Not like that, Jade!"

"Are you having this reaction because you're scared of Dr. Phil?"

"Oh my God, his eyes!"

"I don't know what you're talking about because he seems like a perfectly kind man."

"You don't think anyone is perfectly kind."

"I think Jesus got sorta close."

"I would take Jesus over Dr. Phil any day."

"Aw, you probably hurt his feelings."


"I'm sure he'll remember that comment when he's standing over your bed with an ax."



"Stop mocking my fear."

"But it's so easy. Hey, what happened to making dinner?"

"How do I know Dr. Phil isn't crouched in the cabinets? !"

"Well, one, he's a grown-ass man and your cabinets are like two inches wide."

"It's an RV, give me a break."

"And I repeat, you are a pansy. Fine, if I get the food out, you'll make it."

"Thanks so much phrasing that as a question. I feel completely like I have a choice."

"You don't."

"I never do."

"That a complaint?"


"Good. Because the complaint department doesn't care."

"You're such a moment-ruiner."

"I try."