Ernius: Your stomach and your brain. Care to tell me more? Like, maybe after the Apocalypse?
Bertus: Whoo, I think it was that second rice, shrimp, seaweed burger I had at Bling Bling Burger.
Ernius: Look, man, respect some boundaries. Don't bring that up again. Or at least, bring it up here on the pavement and let's be done with it. I already had to watch you eat it. You killed the two creatures from the lagoon, now don't pick through the pieces post mortem.
Bertus: What, you don't like Bling Bling's? It's different. It's not the same old, same old burger place.
Ernius: Well, eyelid cancer is not the same old, same old tumor either, but it still is what it is.
Bertus: Bling Bling's started in Japan, so it's got to be good enough to survive the international market. Gotta give props. Props?
Ernius: Actually, I think I know what Bling Bling's is. All the ideas other fast food places can't sell, they channel into one cover company: Bling Bling Burger. It's like a furniture store that periodically sells furniture-shaped kindling on the side. "Sales indicate the Seaweed Sassafrass isn't very popular in the Sunbelt. Let's…work it through the Bling-Blinger, give a snazzier name, High Seas High, or something like that."
Bertus: My stomach is gassy, and this is the sympathy I get from you.
Ernius: No, seriously, I read about it in the New York Times. Or at least, I dreamt of reading about it in some phantasmagorical publication I'll call the Times. Some companies hide their money laundering in off-shore shelter companies; the fast food gods just hide their ill-begotten nubbins in Bling Bling boxes.
Bertus: Eww, you said nubbins. We just ate. Come on, we've been walking for like two minutes. Where did you park?
Ernius: Exactly where my car is.
Ernius: All right, all those motorcycles moved out of my way from when we got here.
Bertus: I hate to break this to you, but at some point you're going to have to learn how to back you car out of or, dare I say it, into a parking space. You can't rely on these sweet spots to always open up so you can just roll in and roll out. Driving is not bowling.
Ernius: Statistically speaking, you're right. Some driver will at some point get stuck in some spot for some reason and have to pull off some complex maneuver to back out. Odds are only so good. But I am not some driver. The spots I pick are like magical asphalt shoes and my car is a gas-powered foot. I go in at the heel and just come right out the toe-end.
Bertus: I think you just committed a misdemeanor. Something about defacing public language and the common good.
Ernius: Oh, go back to bilging out your stomach. No, wait, you have to be my eyes for this one. That Mitsubishi's leanin' on me. A four-door!
Bertus: Sure, I'll be your eyes. I mean, why back out smoothly and efficiently when you can whittle your way out from here to the exit?
Ernius: The exit's just up there on the left. The front end is no problem. I'll just ease her on out….
Bertus: Ah, yes, easing her on out in this position. I believe it's called a 17-point turn. We read about it in Appendix G of my high school driving manual.
Ernius: Eyes, be my eyes! I'm concentrating. How's the Mitsubishi? Is it still leaning on me?
Bertus: No, no, it's fine. It backed out when you were on the eighth or ninth point of easing her on out.