At this point, what an UPGRADE that would make.
By the way, I might have changed The Itinerary, post reception: we've got to stop at The Pound. Because, uh... uhh-hhh,
reasons.
It won't take long, and it won't hurt a bit!
Me, anyway. Also, I downgraded your round trip ticket to a one way, so we can... well, we got a deal. I mean, I got a deal. A travel deal. You know, for our upcoming
travel. It's a good one! It's a good deal! It's a
great deal. Would I lie to you? What other options might you have? It's so good it has to be true, and you're kind of forced into it at this point by now
anyway. Look, don't answer that at least somewhat tenuously rhetorical question; you got enough on your mind already (you're not fat), get back to eating your special surgical salad, put away those cherry bonbons, and for the love of God, get rid of the ‘resting merman face’ (what a stupid name); if you don't make changes soon, your face will stay that way forever—and
noone wants
that, believe Me.
Trust Me: you know Me. If you take even one (1) too many steps too close to the altar without taking care of this problem, I will slap that little f****** b**** face off of you before you can say, “God save the Queen.” Believe Me. Don't think I
can't do it. You know I won't
not do it. My willingness to preserve human beauty in the face of any & all adversity is
legendary. It's even
on record.Too close, if one were to ask me, but of course no one ever bothers to. Brain the size of a planet, why would anyone bother Me with such a trivial matter? Get real. Get serious. Get
a grip.
No, not there. It's a little higher up. No, higher. No really.
F****** HIGHER. *SLAM*
