For torra
Number Fourteen - Whimsy/ Reality
“Francesca.”
“Yes, Lieutenant?”
“What is that?”
“It’s cute, isn’t it? I think it really adds something to the cowpen.”
“Bullpen.”
“Whatever.”
“I’m still not hearing an explanation about that… thing.”
“It’s a potted plant. I think it really adds something to the atmosphere.”
“Yes: distraction. Officer Markowitz nearly had a heart attack when it introduced itself as ‘Audrey’ and, since then, it’s been leading a convict’s chorus in a medley of show tunes.”
“Sorry, sir, what was that? I can’t hear you over the singing.”
“It needs to go, Miss Vecchio.”
“You have no music in your soul.”
“Francesca.”
“Yes, Lieutenant?”
“What is that?”
“It’s cute, isn’t it? I think it really adds something to the cowpen.”
“Bullpen.”
“Whatever.”
“I’m still not hearing an explanation about that… thing.”
“It’s a potted plant. I think it really adds something to the atmosphere.”
“Yes: distraction. Officer Markowitz nearly had a heart attack when it introduced itself as ‘Audrey’ and, since then, it’s been leading a convict’s chorus in a medley of show tunes.”
“Sorry, sir, what was that? I can’t hear you over the singing.”
“It needs to go, Miss Vecchio.”
“You have no music in your soul.”