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The thing that you love most is your fifty silver roaches. When you were out of oil, you put them in my hair for awhile. But I made you a bad hostess when I walked outside in the rain to get your Sunday papers, and ruined all of your fun. That's the most heinously inconsiderate thing I've ever done.
Fifty crystal trees were planted outside my door. I went outside for my constitution and now my head is sore from your beautiful trees. I heard your trees then scream. There were standing not a one. That's the most heinously inconsiderate thing I've ever done.
We had a wonderful party with hairy green gnomes and elves who drooled and danced and sang and sang and gave me a perm on my legs. Wasn't it wonderful? Wonderful! Neanderthal! Anbesol?
So I stayed in a corner and played with special friends: invisible and ageless, who ate their special things. And the gnomes and the elves all died in their sleep in a heap. How unneat! There were standing not a one. That's the most heinously inconsiderate thing they've ever done.
