‘Will you marry me?’
No, idiot. Try again.
‘Oh! Sure.’ (clears throat) ‘Will you, please, marry me?’
You think please makes it sound better?
‘It makes it sound nicer.’
You’re not preaching manners. Damn!
‘What do you want me to say?’
How about a poem? Something that rhymes.
‘Wouldn’t that look weird?’
Not weirder than your face. Haha!
‘Sheesh! You’re nasty. I don’t know why I talk to you.’
Because you got no one else to talk to. Loser! Now figure out that rhyme.
‘Roses are red, violets are blue. Be my wife, I love you.’
Shoot me! That stinks. Worse than a public toilet.
‘Hey! Why don’t you suggest something?!’
Hmm. Here’s one. Lemme love ya, lemme hold ya. All day, all night. Marry me, Francesca.
‘Her name’s Betty.’
Crap! What rhymes with Betty? Confetti, petty, jetty. She needs a new name.
‘You’re not helping. I thought you were smart.’
I am. Your stupidity is rubbing off on me.
‘Go to hell!’
Where do you think I am? Talking to you isn’t easy.
‘I hope she says yes. I’ll die if she doesn’t.’
I need a new suit.
Can’t come to your funeral in casuals. Hahaha!
‘Get lost! Don’t need you.’
Hey, hey! Wait. Fine. She’ll say yes. Don’t worry. Show me the ring.
‘I don’t have one.’
Oh my god! Are you kidding me?! This is the worst proposal ever.
‘You know I don’t get out much. I thought she could choose one herself. I’ll pay for it.’
Huh. Doesn’t sound too bad. Maybe she’ll fall for it. Oh look! She’s coming.
‘Hurry! Get out of here!’
Good luck dude.
‘Hey Betty. You look so pretty. Will you marry me?’
‘That’s so sweet, Dan. But take your pills first. You’ve been talking to yourself again.’
‘Who else can I talk to?’
‘Well, it’s nap time. Let’s go inside. You know the rules.’
‘I hate this place!’
‘Shhh. Maybe we’ll get married tomorrow.’
‘You always say that, Betty. I’m not crazy, you know.’
‘I know, Dan. You’ve been telling me that for four years now.’
The ice cream man has many flavors to choose from. Two scoops Bitterscotch Ice Cream in a crispy cone. No, it’s not a mistake.