(Untitled)

[battymadam]

[1665 Nelson St.]

[Madame Foster is sitting at the table and eating the turkey. The imaginary friends have taken some plates to their own table since the one the house came with didn't have quite enough room. She is quite content and perfectly healthy! Who wants to join her?]

[Phone]Hey, worry-warts! The Thanksgiving food is just fine, I ate it

Comments

Phone

[gezellighe]

How do you know it's fine.

[Eating it isn't enough. It took him a whole day to die the last time he drank the milk. . .]

[battymadam]

I can feel it in my bones!

[so not the most reliable source, but she doesn't sound sick.]

[gezellighe]

You should call if you get sick.

[Kind of fussy. It's what he does.]

[battymadam]

Of course, of course. I wouldn't want to mislead anyone. But I'm as good as gravy right now, dearie! ...And speaking of gravy, that'd go pretty good with this.

[gezellighe]

[. . . did she call him dearie. Suddenly he likes her a bit more.]

Gravy, right.

[If she could see him he'd be making a terrible face. Which is him trying to smile effortlessly.]

[battymadam]

[if only she could see it... alas]

How about you, is everything ok over there?

[gezellighe]

My . . . friend is droned.

[battymadam]

Oh, no! [said in all seriousness...]

Is there anything I can do to help?

[gezellighe]

It's Mayfield, so I guess not.

[battymadame]

Aw, I'm sorry. [a sigh] Well, Netherlands, if you'd ever like company, you just let me know about it, ok?

[gezellighe]

[She remembered who he was. Not bad for an old lady.]

Thanks.

. . . ma'am.