Fuck me, this is stupid.
Look, I'm not going to lie, I'm not available, but... If I were not a wanted man in Canada, that kind of hot ‘N’ sexy pillow talk might be enough to send me head over heels, damn the torpedoes.
I would send Grapefruit to go get you and bring you back for me to discuss philosophy with, but she can't climb fences anymore and the flying car is stuck at the shop, so that's right out. Maybe I'll take a nap and and I'll wake up and this will all have just been an idle passing thought.
Alternately, I might never sleep again. A Canadian just exhibited legitimate self-awareness in public, which may well be a sign that Actual First Contact may well be indeed be close at hand, and what with The Rummy, the Mack, and The Coz all storyboarding the reboot of
Trading Places on the same day... well, I'm glad I got all that swallowing practice in already, I'll say that much.
This is exciting, isn't it? My mommy paid for my seat, but I only need the edge, which is great because my lunch box needs to be kept safe behind me. Because
reasons.