Another Dialogue:
Doug: All your dishes -- which you never used -- have chicken fat all over them.
Doug: And small encrusted spinach leaves which only reduce slightly in diameter no matter how furiously you scrub at them.
Mark: And stuff, you don't even know what it is, that you have to scrape off with a sturdy knife.
Mark: And broiler racks that have never been cleaned, ever.
Mark: That grease that becomes molecularly bonded with your skin.
Doug: Until you scream FUCK! FFUCK!!! FFFUUUCCCCKKKKK!!!! and slam a fying pan through your television screen.
Doug: And then your hair bursts into flames.
Mark: Dad has been gliding though the house recently, his feet a foot above the ground. Gerri too.
Mark: They pass each other in the hallway.
Mark: Dad in his bathrobe, Gerri in Flemish armour, circa 1385.
Doug: Is it a jousting contest?
Mark: Pikas scurrying up and down the outside of the house.
Doug: A mariachi band that keeps appearing at the bedroom door at 3:30 AM, playing La Cucaracha.
Mark: Their bed slams them into the wall every night at 4:12 AM.
Doug: Yes! Then Dad shoos the mariachis away, Gerri tries in vain to find them the next morning, and the next night, they are back.
Doug: And again with the bed.
Mark: OK here it is: it's August, it's 95 degrees, and it's pouring rain in their bedroom.
Mark: How much would you pay for footage??
Doug: Only if it were sudden and quite unexpected.
Doug: And arms were waved.
Mark: I want to see their bedroom sopping wet. Everything is absolutely soaked.
Mark: The cars won't start.
Mark: The power goes off.
Mark: There is a beeping sound.
Doug: Cue the German shepherds.
Doug: Bounding through the house, clawing the floors, barking.
Mark: I think we should fit some sort of spring-launching device under their bed.
Doug: Knocking knick knacks off shelves.
Doug: And that's when the dolls attack.
Doug: Victorian dolls versus German shepherds.
Mark: And smelly bums.
Doug: Gerri cannot break up the fight.
Mark: Dad and Gerri wake up with a foul homeless man in their bed.
Doug: Dad says, "Oh, Christ," and walks off the property in his bathrobe.
Mark: That's when the entire house disappears into a giant sinkhole.
Doug: I like it.
Mark: The only thing left is Dad, hair wisps at attention, bathrobe, FFFFFFFFUCK!!
Doug: "Son of a BITCH!"
Doug: ChrrrrrIST!!
Mark: He's not devastated, just really, really, really irritated.
Doug: That is how the journal gets started.
Mark: Vanilla enriched soymilk with Quik is pretty good.
Doug: And we didn't even talk about the wolverines Gerri encounters in the laundry room.
Doug: Quik?
Doug: Oh. My. God.
Doug: How about Strawberry Quik.
Mark: The Taste of Duluth.
Mark: Are you ever going to go back there?
Doug: Don't plan on it.
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