Phil: Oy, hippy! Put down the peace pipe and help me finish off this case.
Madeline (internal): Hippies, limeys, ugly dogs, fire, booze....this is an awesome Saturday night.
Wendel: The petting, it is nice, please continue. I will, of course, sniff your crotch in return.
Sean insisted on boiling water in case we ran across any pregnant women on the beach. He's a bit of a crazed boy scout in that way.
The fire in his eyes was obvious. If Phil didn't get himself one of them marshmallows stat, he was gonna burst.
Unbeknownst to him, Sean had grown a thick mustache in the past half hour. Phil, enraged with jealousy, moved in for the ear bite.
Phil: Oh my lord. You didn't! Is that your....and his....is that a cat? Bloody hell, you Americans are wild.
After seeing Wendel's tongue, Bradley's imagination was taking him places he didn't want to be.
Or did he....
Fire, bringer of warmth, toaster of marshmallows, incinerator of evidence.
Annie: Popcorn was a great idea Mika. But did we have to use pieces of my jacket for the foil?
Bradley: I'm the hippy and I gots the rhymes, I juggle lemons and I juggle limes.
I put my stash right upon this seat, someone best fess up fore they feel my heat!
Jen pondered the existential questions: Why are we here? What is my role in the cosmic scheme of things? Is yeast really a living creature?
A couple of sips from her special hot cocoa and all questions were forgotten. Except whether or not she could get more Kahlua for the next cup.
