"Good Lord, Loretta: don't look now but the most beautiful man in Tramore just smiled at me."
"Who?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, I meant 'The Most Beautiful Man in Tramore'. He's over there, black top, jeans, cheekbones like cliffs you want to tumble off, shoulders like rocks you want to smack into. Eyes full of sex, lips full of sin!"
"Ohhh. Well, he is very nice alright."
"'Nice', she says! What are you drinkin', lady, 'cos you need to give it up! He's the most fabulous man I've ever seen in the flesh. He looks like Clark Gable only better and less facial hair. Brando, before the weight. The body of a cowboy and the face of an angel. He's like-"
"Yeah, I get it, I get it: you've got the sexual fantasies of a seventy-five year old."
"Well! I like that! I-"
"Shhhh!"
"What? WHO JUST SHUSHED ME?? IS THIS A GIG OR AM I AT FUCKING MASS!"
"..."
"Loretta, I think I've gotta blow this joint, these joykills are really wrecking my buzz."
"Yeah, you probably should. We're getting looks. Also maybe stop talking like a gangster from the thirties."
"HA! You really make me laugh, dollface! Laters!"
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