"As his fingers trailed sensuously down the nape of her neck to her... bow-dice... she tingled uncontrollably with the knowledge that tonight Jean Perrier would taste the fruit of the garden from which no man had ere picked produce before." Oh!
What a pretty voice she has. Do you think?
Oh, yes. She sounds just like Frances did when she was younger.
I always did have a lovely voice.
Thanks!
And I looked just like you, dearie.
Eep!
Pow! Blam! Kablooey! Cool, this guy just swallowed his own teeth.
Happened to me last Friday. Only they weren't my teeth, if you get my drift.
Yeah. No.
Daria, you'll be reading to Mrs. Patterson. I think you two will really hit it off.
What a pretty girl...
[upbeat] Oh.
... that Brittany is.
[dejected] Oh.
Are you two friends? No, I don't suppose you would be. Never mind. Let's hear what you brought to read.
I hope you like poetry.
Oh, yes. My favorite birthday cards are the ones with poems in them.
"I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness. Starving, hysterical, naked. Dragging themselves through the negro streets of dawn..." [time passes] "... the soul is innocent and immortal. It should never die ungodly, in an armed madhouse--"
[Mrs. Patterson presses call button]
Mrs. Patterson, can I get you something?
Get me my walker. And then hit her with it!
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