Fred and George Flee in Fear
Squirrels. In my house. In my house.
Again.
And they had just realized they were not alone…
“UM, FRED?”
“SHHH! SHHHH!”
“DO YOU SEE THAT?”
“SHUT UP. I THINK IT THINKS WE’RE DECORATIONS.”
“WHAT IS IT?”
“GEORGE, SHUT UP.”
Miss B: *blinks*
“JUST FREEZE. STAY STILL.”
“OH GOD I DON’T WANNA DIE–”
“GEORGE, IF YOU DON’T SHUT UP, I WILL HELP THAT THING EAT YOU.”
“IS IT A WOMBAT? I DON’T MIND BEING EATEN IF IT’S A WOMBAT–”
“SHUT. THE FUCK. UP, GEORGE.”
“FRED…I HAVE TO PISS.”
“OH FOR THE LOVE OF…”
Miss B: Really? Really?
“HIDE! HIDE HERE!”
“IS THAT A WOMBAT? IS IT, FRED?”
“I DON’T KNOW WHAT IT IS, BUT IT’S NOT A GODDAMN WOMBAT. JUST LET ME THINK FOR A BIT.”
“I STILL HAVE TO PISS.”
“YOU CAN HOLD IT.”
“FRED…I THINK I HAVE TO MORE-THAN-PISS. YEH, I’M PRETTY SURE I DO.”
“COME BACK! DON’T RUN THAT WAY!”
“GOTTA FIND A CORNER, MATE…”
“OH, FOR CHRISSAKE.”
“I CAN’T PISS HERE. IT’S ALL HARD AND SHINY.”
“SO? DOES IT MATTER WHERE YOU PEE?”
“IT’LL GET MY PAWS WET.”
“SINCE WHEN HAS THAT EVER STOPPED YOU?”
“LOOK, IT’S EMBARRASSING.”
“YOU SPENT LAST NIGHT BURIED IN A POUCH FROM CANBERRA. CAN YOU EVER BE EMBARRASSED AGAIN?”
“YOU’RE JUST JEALOUS.”
“FRED–”
“AND FURTHERMORE, WHEN WE GET HOME, I AM THROWING YOUR SHIT OUT OF THE APARTMENT.”
“FRED–”
“I AM TIRED OF YOUR DRINKING AND YOUR IRRESPONSIBILITY.”
“FRED–”
“AND YOU SNORE. DID YOU KNOW THAT? LOUDLY.”
“FRED!”
“WHAT?”
“LOOK UP THERE.”
“RUN AWAY!”
