E.B.:
Hey, Fred, what's wrong? You look a bit put out.
Fred O'Hare:
Wh-why are you still here? You can't be up here. This is... You're in the forbidden part of the house.
E.B.:
Yeah, but so are you.
Fred O'Hare:
Pick this up, man. You've destroyed the place!
E.B.:
I wouldn't say destroyed. I was just getting comfortable.
Fred O'Hare:
What about your injury? Huh? Your leg? You're hurt, right?
E.B.:
[looks at leg]
Yeah, exactly. I need a soft bed in which to convalesce.
Fred O'Hare:
Oh, I see. So you climbed the flight stairs...
E.B.:
Struggled up each stair is more like it. Worth it, though. That jacuzzi loosened me right up.
Fred O'Hare:
Jacuzzi?
E.B.:
Oh, yeah. You might want to turn it off. It was creating a lot of bubbles.
Fred O'Hare:
No!
[rushes over to turn the water off]
Fred O'Hare:
My sister is going to kill me!
E.B.:
Don't worry. We'll clean it up together, as soon as I've beat my high score. Hey Fred! Come on, your turn. Pick up a guitar, mate.
Riportata da il
05/03/2025 alle ore 08:28
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