Babette:
Well, you beer blotted boob! Why you would even think that life is to short, I do not know. Heck!! I have a long time on this dirty land of a 3rd ball in the sky. So I will do whatever I freaking what with my mummified up hands.
Beatrice:
Well you freaky little banister! Why on the string of a ukulele would you mummify your hands? That would be a disadvantage you know and I will tell you why. Number 1 you could not feel the soft truffles of a porcupine’s hair! You wouldn’t be able to touch the murky waters of the mud filled stream floating through the back forest in which little bass’ swim! You could not flex your fingers into you boney loved one’s hand! What do you say to that?!
Babette:
You little putrid mouth full of scum fill sewers that smell like burps after you ate a fried elephant gizzard. I do not flex my fingers, if you must know….ummm..I …um… flex my glutious maximus, and mind you its in its full beauty when that is happening. My guy, whoever it is at the time, thinks ill of me. So that is why I change so often, but I do not remember asking you to help me find reddish, pinkish, hawk filled, slim infested, creatures. So keep all the lizardfied goop to yourself.
Beatrice:
Did I say I wanted them? Huh? Huh? O.K. I shall sing you a song . Amazing fish that stink like frog, that float on through the gorge! That slinks into the lightning! Once I was lost but now I’m found in the arms of my ambidextrous lover! I think I might kill myself! Dang! That’s a good song!
To be continued...
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