“All the better to rock you, my man.”
And, Tropicana Anaconda, what red hair you have.
“All the better to grey gracefully along my manly jawline, my dude.”
And, Trustafarian Anabaptist, what long solos you take.
“You going anywhere with this, or did you just want to make up silly names for me?”
The second thing.
“Great. Can I get back to my job, please?”
“I do other things.”
Everything that you do that isn’t a solo is just killing time until the next solo.
Gonna call you Hope.
Know why your new name’s Hope?
Wanna know why?
“Why am I–”
“–named Hope? Okay, we’re done.”