You love Easter.
“I do, yeah. Favorite holiday. Love the egg hunt.”
That a big thing at Casa Bobby?
“Oh, sure. Girls love it. Gotta use painted rocks instead of eggs cuz Lillian Monster will start protesting.”
Eh. Better in theory.
“Well, you’re getting normal-person chocolate bunnies. Rock star bunnies are solid.”
Chocolate all the way through?
I don’t think that’s a thing.
“Oh, yeah. Sure it is. Jesus metaphor. The barley or rye or whatever the hell they make scotch out of dies, and then returns as a fine single-malt with an unpronounceable name.”
That makes as much sense as the actual story.