Starting To Look Weird

“Seriously, what's with the pants?”

“Do you not like? These are the of finest quality, don't you know.”

“When you decided to become a bullfighter, how did you feel about the uniform?”

“As a young boy, as I dreamed of becoming a torero, I did not like the costume, no. As I became older, I hated it even more, it's true. As I trained, I grew to despise it. It is an affront to all sensibilities. I am suffocating, my friend.”

“Well, take it off!”

“Que?”

“Ditch it! Break free! Let loose! Look at me. Look at how I'm swinging, amigo! Take it all off!”

“I... I will! Yes!”

“There you go!”

“I climb out of the stifling pit of tradition! I am free!”

“Do you need help?”

“Si.”

“Wow, these are tight. Uh, could you...? Actually, you know what? Maybe you shouldn't. This is starting to look weird. I think the crowd is... okay, we're getting the signal to wrap it up. Sorry.”

“No no, my friend, it is all right. Improv is difficult.”

At Least Once A Week

“Right. Now, Veronica...”

“Valerie.”

“Yes, Valerie, sorry. You said you didn't want children...”

“I do want children!”

“Right, sorry. Mr and Mrs Henderson, I have to apologize, I'm not focusing well this morning, I'm having trouble sleeping and...”

“This is our third session with you and you just don't seem to listen. It's like you don't even care at all.”

“It's true. I don't care about marriage. Don't really care about anything. I'm so tired. The same old predictable patterns and routines, over and over and over. It's like I'm wasting my days waiting for something remarkable to happen.”

“Have you noticed where my husband is sitting?”

“Holy shit! No, just kidding, seen it before.”

Sarcastic Piggy Eyes

“Oh, look. It's Slotty again.”

“Great. I guess it's time for another refill.”

“I'm sure some of us can't wait until feeding time.”

“But then some of us aren't absurdly deformed.”

“Yes, some of us are normal flesh and blood.”

“And some of us aren't.”

“Hey, guys, can I ask you something? Are you sure you're emphasizing the right words?

“I don't know. We're just guessing. Apparently we pigs have trouble with sarcasm.”

The Table Is Made Out Of Board

“Oh, hey boss.”

“Where did everybody go?”

“Uh, what do you mean? It's just the six of us.”

“There were eighteen people at this meeting.”

“Were there? I just remember the five of us.”

“Six. No, Michael is gone now. Five.”

“Michael was never at the meeting. Who's Michael?”

“Great. And how long have you been dancing?”

“Uhhh... I don't know. Always? Haven't we always danced? Our whole lives?”

“Dammit. I was warned about this table. Something about a lost temple. Dark and ancient rites. Why didn't I listen? Now I only have five staff left.”

“Four. We've always been four.”

“Shut up. I have to think. Who can I call? Maybe the guy who sold me the table, but then I would have to admit he was right and I was wrong. I could call an occult specialist, but they can't keep a secret, they'd probably even leak it to the newspapers. Well, I guess the only solution is to seal the room forever. Only three people left anyway. No, two. It'll be over soon enough.”

“Actually, boss, what do you think will happen when there is only one left?”

“What?”

“I can hear them now. They are nearly done choosing.”

“Well, shit. I always knew the board didn't like me.”