For dessert_first
Number Eight - Whimsy/ Reality
“Oh, dear.”
“That is not a good thing to say, Fraser.”
“Ah.”
“Neither is that.”
“I’m sorry, Ray. But, well, I’ve just read the label on the bag that Mr. Lembowitz opened onto your head.”
“And?”
“Well, if you would mind sitting down??”
“Fraser-”
“It’s fairy dust, Ray.”
“Oh, you mean that new stuff that’s got the Narcs running around.”
“No, Ray.”
“Whaddya mean, no?”
“It’s actual fairy dust.”
“… Fraser, uh. What is on my head?”
“Antennae, Ray. They’re quite fetching and they match the wings.”
“Ah, crap.”
“Oh, dear.”
“That is not a good thing to say, Fraser.”
“Ah.”
“Neither is that.”
“I’m sorry, Ray. But, well, I’ve just read the label on the bag that Mr. Lembowitz opened onto your head.”
“And?”
“Well, if you would mind sitting down??”
“Fraser-”
“It’s fairy dust, Ray.”
“Oh, you mean that new stuff that’s got the Narcs running around.”
“No, Ray.”
“Whaddya mean, no?”
“It’s actual fairy dust.”
“… Fraser, uh. What is on my head?”
“Antennae, Ray. They’re quite fetching and they match the wings.”
“Ah, crap.”