JESSICA: Hey, Karl!
KARL: Hey is for the casual, pet. Be ORNATE. Dip yourself in Fancy. Coat yourself in flakes of sophistication and then plunge like a nymph into hot cosmopolitan oil. SIZZLE.
JESSICA: Bonjour, then!
KARL: If we must. Pray, why are your hands stuffed in your pockets? That skirt is not a turkey and you are not sage-laced bread. Poultry arms are for the meek. UNCAGE YOURSELF.
JESSICA: I will, okay, su… I mean, oui, bien sur. I guess I’m nervous? This blazer is fantastic, and the skirt is great, but… why is … I don’t mean to question your…
KARL: An ellipsis is an insult without letters.
JESSICA: Oh, wow, I never…
KARL: I believe it was Plato who said, “Hashtag Yolo.”
KARL: Do not beat around the bush. Occupy the bush. Stand up in the middle of the bush and shout, “I WILL NOT BE GARDENED.”
JESSICA: Fine, yes, okay. It’s the bra, Karl. It’s distracting. Right?
KARL: Certainty and correctness are antagonistic bedfellows, sated by hate sex.
JESSICA: This whole thing is so chic and yet everyone is staring at my underwire.
KARL: I believe it was Sartre who said, “Existence precedes essence.”
JESSICA: Yeah, that one is right, but…
KARL: You are responsible for your own actions. The bra existed, so you used it. Do not make me the demon jailer of your feminine Alps. It was you.
JESSICA: But nipples aren’t really my brand.
KARL: Branding is for the thirsty, my child. BE SLAKED.
JESSICA: So just to recap, this thin blouse and my bra and stuff are my fault, and… there was a bunch of stuff about poultry and hate sex.
KARL: I took a voice memo. I shall electronic-mail it to you posthaste, so that learning might be the spawn of our provocative tango.
JESSICA: … Deal.