#68

A. Tell me
B. No
A. C’mon
B. Nuh-uh
A. I’ll be your friend
B. Y’already are
A. But moreso!
B. Already. Already are.
A. Even more than that, then.
B. Hm, well I don’t want to be presumptuous, but
A. Yeah… I am.
B. Yes! *fist pump*
A. Aw. *kiss*
B. *is kissed*
A. So tell me.
B. I can’t.
A. You promised!
B. No.. I definitely did not promise.
A. You can promise, tho.
B. To tell you?
A. Yeah!
B.  Why would I do that?
A. Dumbness, probably.
B. Oh.
A. You make a *bunch* of misfires in that big dumb brain of yours. So dumb.
B. This ol’ thing?
A. So dumb. That old brain of yours.
B. Well *to one side, the other (eyes up)* it seems to have kept everything in check, so
A. So that’s exactly the reason why you should tell me
B. Yeah?
A. Yeah.
B. … gonna have to explain that.
A. Because your dumb brain, is so big and dumb, and is just a dumb gray sack of stupid misfirings, that the fact that it’s not letting you tell me means that that’s what the misfire is, and that the regular fires would be telling you to tell me.
B. So, I should tell you?
A. Yesss.
B. Hm. I think you’ve got something there
A. Duh
B. I should tell you
A. Tell me!
B. Oh no wait
A. C’mon. No
B. Since my brain
A. Your dumb brain!
B. Right, since my dumb brain thinks I should tell you, then I can safely ignore that because it is definitely just a wrong idea cause by all my little broken brain mufflers.
A. That’s not how brains work, dummy.
B. Forgive this dumb brain of mine
A. Ugh. Hoisted on my own petard.
B. Foisted.
A. What?
B. It’s foisted.
A. No. What? What’s a foist.
B. I, I don’t know. But petards certainly seem to.
A. Hoisted. Like your own petard lifted you on top of it.
B. Do petards do that?
A. Only if you really charm ’em and treat ’em nice.
B. Then that sounds like a good thing.
A. Oh hell yeah. Petards are crazy at it.
B. How crazy?
A. Every hole crazy.
B. Eh
A. Tell me
B. No
A. Tell me
B. No
A. Tell me
B. Yes
A. Awesome

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