Bob. I need you to sit down for a minute. We need to talk.
No, Bob. Now is exactly the right time.
They aren’t real, Bob. Not even a little.
Stuffed, Bob. Not with “love,” like you say every single time I point this out. With industrial fiberfill.
I’m not “against freedom,” Bob. I’m just worried about where this is going. You need to choose: me or the three penguins.
That was unexpected. And quick. I expected more mulling. And no I won’t scrape my own sticker off of your window. I never wanted to be part of this freak show in the first place, Bob.