|"Seventeen cans of cat food, please."
"Twenty-four eighty-seven. Hey, you came here and bought twenty-three cans of cat food last week, right?"
"Yes. I've been trying to cut back."
"Seventeen cans is cutting back? How many cats do you have?"
"Just one. Her name is Queen Franchesca Antoinette."
"Of the couch. In Rome. Daughter of the late Emperor Vadimir BartholeMew of the T.V. remote in Finland. Her mom was named Fluffy."
"That's, uh, nice. Really. Anyway, Fran mu-"
"Queen Franchesca Antoinette of the couch in Rome."
"Yeah, that. She must really like... Cream of Liver with Chopped Sardines?"
"It's better than you'd think. Anyway, she actually despises cat food. Quite crazy about cookies, though."
"So who eats it? You?"
"Yes! How did you know? No one has ever cared enough about me to ask who ate it!"
"Excuse me? I was kidding! That is disgusting! How are you not foaming at the mouth or something?"
"Don't judge me! I had a really bad experiance with shoe polish!"
"Have you ever thought about stopping, or trying cake? I mean, you could always go to an insane asylum, but you'd probably end up spilling your guts to a pineapple in a bikini, or start waltzing with a lamp."
"Rhonda looks great in a bikini!"
"Right. Mr. Colton, I recommend pickles."
"This conversation is over! Good day, nosy guy from the Stop-n'-Shop cash register!"
"Wait! Come back! What are the nutritional values of cat food for humans?"
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