[Through the door] Helga, who are you talking to, honey?
No one! Just my...uh...imaginary friend.
Okay, I'll set another place at breakfast.
Great, Mom, great.
Great, Mom, great.
Are you mocking me?
[Quoting Helga's poem] Why must I worship you and never ever tell?
Trust me, you won't live long enough to tell.







