Grace: So, I’ve been thinking of taking up prostitution.
Denny: Did I say you could talk to me?
Grace: BAAAA! Shut up.
Denny: Why prositution? Are you running out of money? Is a thin film growing over your vagina?
Grace: Nah, although… gross. I dunno. I think I’d just like the daily variety, you know? I enjoy the thrill of the proposition.
Denny: That makes a certain kind of sense
Grace: I was going to say that I love the thrill of the proposition, but I realized that I don’t love.
Denny: Then prositution is the perfect profession for you.
Grace: Although I don’t know if the rush would match the rush that I get when I come up with a good caption for a video. I mean a really good caption.
Denny: I can see that.
Grace: So, how’s the cat?
Denny: Dead.

Grace: You’re kidding me.
Denny: Nope. Not kidding at all.
Grace: How?
Denny: To tell you the truth, I really think the chinchilla killed her.
Grace: What?
Denny: Yeah. I think Leroy’s had it out for her for a while. Every time they’re in the same room together, it looks like he’s shooting daggers out of his eyes. Little, tiny, Chinchilla-sized daggers.
Grace: How’d he get out of his cage?
Denny: I don’t know. Maybe he’s a ninja.
Grace: That’s ridiculous. Ninjas have years – lifetimes – of training in order to perfect their ninja-ly ways. Chinchillas live, what, 3, 4 years?
Denny: They live to be 25, for your information.
Grace: But you got him when he was 6 months old!
Denny: None of that matters. Don’t you think that the chinchillas have their own ways to train their ninjas? You’re being ridiculous.
Grace: Squirrells, maybe. Chinchillas in a cage? Give me a break. Plus, Mopsy’s got claws, teeth, is a natural predator, and is three times the size of Leroy Brown.
Denny: Doesn’t matter. Have you even met a ninja?
Grace: No.
Denny: Shut up, then.

(Pause)

Grace: Can you pass the brussels sprouts?
Denny: Sure. Butter?