[He'll bridalcarry the skeleton to the armchair, setting her down and folding her hands in her lap like a proper lady. Once that's done, he wanders back to the couch and has a seat, turning to see where Dave's going next.]
Well I was going to say no but now I kind of want to see that, yeah. [He's making a little nest with his new blankets and fluffing the pillow before sort of tipping over to lay down.]
[ dave makes sure the blankets are secure before perching on the arm of the couch, hands loose in his lap. ] Fine. I ain't doing more than one, though. So...did I ever tell you that Mrs. McCave [ and it's clear maybe that he's started reciting something or another in the same quiet monotone john may be getting used to by now ] had twenty-three sons and she named them all Dave?
[ not quite a twitch of his lips, but there's something like wry humor in the way he moves his mouth. ]
Well, she did. And that wasn't a smart thing to do. You see, when she wants one and calls out, 'Yoo-Hoo! Come into the house, Dave!' she doesn't get one. [ he picked this poem for like obvious biased reasons. ] All twenty-three Daves of hers come on the run! This makes things quite difficult at the McCaves', as you can imagine, with so many Daves.
And often she wishes that, when they were born, she had named one of them Bodkin Van Horn. And one of them Hoos-Foos. And one of them Snimm. And one of them Hot-Shot. And one Sunny Jim. And one of them Shadrack. And one of them Blinkey. And one of them Stuffy. And one of them Stinkey. Another one Putt-Putt. Another one Moon Face. Another one Marvin O'Gravel Balloon Face. And one of them Ziggy. And one Soggy Muff. One Buffalo Bill. And one Biffalo Buff. And one of them Sneepy. And one Weepy Weed. And one Paris Garters. And one Harris Tweed. And one of them Sir Michael Carmichael Zutt. And one of them Oliver Boliver Butt. And one of them Zanzibar Buck-Buck McFate....but she didn't do it. And now it's too late.
Anyway he's essentially tucked in for bed and doesn't seem to register that's actually what's going on because he's still tired and he's listening and...
the tone is still novelty but it's comfortable and familiar now and he doesn't exactly drift off to sleep given Dave's making him laugh.]
You are definitely making that one up! There's no way that is a real story...is it?
It's definitely 100% genuine Seuss, fuck you. I wouldn't lie about a master wordsmith, but I also wasn't going to go for one of his mainstream hits like green eggs and ham? [ dave is definitely tucking john in but the question is how much does he notice himself ]
You would definitely try to feed me bullshit about Seuss, dude. [John would also 100% buy it. Neither of them are apparently registering or caring that this is how this is going but John shifts in the blankets.]
...you ever wonder what green eggs and ham actually tasted like that Sam wanted the other guy to eat them so bad?
Well, now I'm wondering. But green food may be a too soon kinda thing. God I miss color - also yeah maybe I'd mislead you but I'm not this time. I googled poems for Dave once.
Nah, it was in February like when we were eleven or twelve. You did the class valentine thing and so did Rose? I wanted to know what an authentically terrible class mandated valentine for me could look like.
Ehhhh. I think the experience loses something without candy taped inside printed out cards and that look of suppressed rebellion that kids get when adults make them do something dumb and or bond with one another?
You have never truly lived until you're forced to make a glittery mailbox for your classmates to begrudgingly shove store-bought cards and overpriced candy into. But at the same time it was fun? It was nice having something like that to look forward to.
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Need a bedtime story, or are you good? I could probably recite some choice Seuss if need be.
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[ not quite a twitch of his lips, but there's something like wry humor in the way he moves his mouth. ]
Well, she did. And that wasn't a smart thing to do. You see, when she wants one and calls out, 'Yoo-Hoo! Come into the house, Dave!' she doesn't get one. [ he picked this poem for like obvious biased reasons. ] All twenty-three Daves of hers come on the run! This makes things quite difficult at the McCaves', as you can imagine, with so many Daves.
And often she wishes that, when they were born, she had named one of them Bodkin Van Horn. And one of them Hoos-Foos. And one of them Snimm. And one of them Hot-Shot. And one Sunny Jim. And one of them Shadrack. And one of them Blinkey. And one of them Stuffy. And one of them Stinkey. Another one Putt-Putt. Another one Moon Face. Another one Marvin O'Gravel Balloon Face. And one of them Ziggy. And one Soggy Muff. One Buffalo Bill. And one Biffalo Buff. And one of them Sneepy. And one Weepy Weed. And one Paris Garters. And one Harris Tweed. And one of them Sir Michael Carmichael Zutt. And one of them Oliver Boliver Butt. And one of them Zanzibar Buck-Buck McFate....but she didn't do it. And now it's too late.
[ why did he memorize this. ]
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Anyway he's essentially tucked in for bed and doesn't seem to register that's actually what's going on because he's still tired and he's listening and...
the tone is still novelty but it's comfortable and familiar now and he doesn't exactly drift off to sleep given Dave's making him laugh.]
You are definitely making that one up! There's no way that is a real story...is it?
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...you ever wonder what green eggs and ham actually tasted like that Sam wanted the other guy to eat them so bad?
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[ why ]
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comfort for nightmares doesn't occur to him because haha...asking for help ]
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