“That's a totally awesome title!” wailed Beverly.
“Yeah, man, like, whatever,” breathed Karl.
The euphonic tones of a belittling harpsichord eased beyond the wafting drone of a bagpipe. Little caring for the state of mind of poor Mrs. Wannabe, the voluminous chords arced crescendingly, crashing desultorily into tonal oblivion.
“That's a totally awesome tune!” caterwauled Beverly.
“Yeah, man, like, whatever,” decanted Karl, “and enough with the wailing and caterwauling already. If I was more cliched, I'd say you're harshing my buzz... but, instead, I'd have to say you're cradling my wanton hedonism... yeah, totally.”
Arriving late was tantamount to murder. Punctuality ruled. Franklin winced at the belligerent cacophony. La Cucaracha expectorated painfully from the doorbell.
“That's a totally awesome tune!” hissed Beverly.
“Just answer the door, man,” sentenced Karl.
What hideous manner of she-beast was this? Oh, right, Beverly. Franklin disregarded her dishevelment.
“Evening, Mrs. Wannabe,” polited Franklin, as he roughly grabbed Karl and dragged him out the door, and out of their lives forever.
“That's a totally awesome exit!” mused Beverly.
THE END
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