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chosehumanity"Listen, Mitchell..."
"What is it?"
"It's not that I don't respect this whole Shane McGowan, Dylan Moran thing you're trying on-- you've got sick in your hair, by the way -- but it's, well, you know it's spring break, don't you think it's time for a bit more-- action?"
"Leave me alone, George."
"I'm just saying you've been here for two full days now and I've been doing all the shopping and-- have you ever been in an American supermarket, Mitchell? It's like a freeze-dried prison for thousands upon thousands of bad calories and screaming children. It might be good if you, you know..."
"What, George?"
"...Get out a bit."
"I'm not fit to go out."
"No, not without a shower... and maybe a touch of deodorant-- anyway, my point is, now that we're getting at it--"
"Keep on getting, George."
"My point is, I'm tired of this. I've decided I'm tired of this, and you're tired of this, so maybe all of this is a sign to make some kind of change. A change, yes, a change will do us good."
"George. That point you were rambling on about...?"
"Oh. Right. I want to move back to Bristol."
"...What?"
"Seriously, this place isn't in the right mind, and it's obviously not safe-- they, they accost you at the bus stop, Mitchell. They accost you, and they ask you, 'are you having trouble reading the map? Do you need any help? Here, take some money for the bus, you can't possibly--'. My point is, Americans have no sense of personal space. Or junk food. Actually, I was at this Pottery Barn, and--"
"Fine."
"--it was really, and I mean really--"
"George, I said fine."
"Fine?"
"We'll move back to Bristol. Just leave me alone."
"...I'll go clean up your empty beer bottles then, shall I? God, you smell like a public toilet..."
[[ establishy ]]
"What is it?"
"It's not that I don't respect this whole Shane McGowan, Dylan Moran thing you're trying on-- you've got sick in your hair, by the way -- but it's, well, you know it's spring break, don't you think it's time for a bit more-- action?"
"Leave me alone, George."
"I'm just saying you've been here for two full days now and I've been doing all the shopping and-- have you ever been in an American supermarket, Mitchell? It's like a freeze-dried prison for thousands upon thousands of bad calories and screaming children. It might be good if you, you know..."
"What, George?"
"...Get out a bit."
"I'm not fit to go out."
"No, not without a shower... and maybe a touch of deodorant-- anyway, my point is, now that we're getting at it--"
"Keep on getting, George."
"My point is, I'm tired of this. I've decided I'm tired of this, and you're tired of this, so maybe all of this is a sign to make some kind of change. A change, yes, a change will do us good."
"George. That point you were rambling on about...?"
"Oh. Right. I want to move back to Bristol."
"...What?"
"Seriously, this place isn't in the right mind, and it's obviously not safe-- they, they accost you at the bus stop, Mitchell. They accost you, and they ask you, 'are you having trouble reading the map? Do you need any help? Here, take some money for the bus, you can't possibly--'. My point is, Americans have no sense of personal space. Or junk food. Actually, I was at this Pottery Barn, and--"
"Fine."
"--it was really, and I mean really--"
"George, I said fine."
"Fine?"
"We'll move back to Bristol. Just leave me alone."
"...I'll go clean up your empty beer bottles then, shall I? God, you smell like a public toilet..."
[[ establishy ]]
