No, Dawn! This isn't about Jared! It's about you. More specifically, you turning into your father. Try to stay on topic. This problem is not going to resolve itself. You need to go to sleep and have a crazy, hilarious dream sequence that will bring you clarity! Until then,
I won't be able to sleep.
13 comments:
Or maybe a nightmare where a palm tree breaks through your window and attacks you?
Her nose isn't featured in profile much. But it is indeed turning into Wilburp's pug nose.
It's Jared's fault! I did not see that coming! Excellent blame-shifting. You really are your father!
-- Scottie McW.
The scape-Jared symbolically bears the sins of the community, and is driven into the wilderness as an act of expiation. I can get behind this.
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
Your neck is longer than a giraff's...
Sorry, Wanders, but that doesn't rhyme.
HelenClark
whats the under over of seeing jess bender again by labor day ?
If this plot goes straight to a Mary meddle over muffins, I will be profoundly disappointed, but given Dawn's half-baked thinking, I can see her with dark circles under her eyes telling this Mary her sad tale. Mary may give her Lecture #23: What Happens When We Tell "White Lies" to our Significant Other. Please no.
Did Jared make the chili? Here is how Iola dealt with chili...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xIHW7xdNTIY
Dawn: "How DARE you accuse me of lying just because I lied to you! We're getting back together THIS INSTANT. So I can dump you. See, I'm not my dad. He'd never dump anyone."
Suddenly a bright light shines over Dawn. A spectral figure with dazzling white hair, wearing a blindingly white pantsuit, seems to float above Dawn’s bed. (For no particular reason, the majestic theme from Star Wars plays in full, but muted, orchestral glory.)
Dawn speaks: M-M-Mary, is that you?
Spectral Mary: Yes, Dawn, it is I, Mrs. Mary Worth, come to answer your query about so-called white lies. You are correct, everyone tells them- even I, the unofficial Charterstone manager.
For example, when I tell Jeff, sorry, I have a headache. Or, no Toby, there’s no Tito’s Vodka left, just this nearly empty (and watered down) nip bottle of Idaho’s finest potato likker. Yes, Ian, I’d love to hear your bagpipe rendition of We Are The Champions, but I’m on my way to church- maybe later? Of course, Saul, your Greta is the most adorable dog that ever lived. No, Jared, your haircut doesn’t make your nose look big.
Dawn: Oh thank you, Mary, now I can go on with my life. And one more thing, you don’t smell at all like mothballs, and you look wonderful in lavender.
Spectral Mary floats away while Overture 1812 (the cannon part) booms in the background.
Once again, meg writes the script we really want to see! Brava, Maestra!
I second the praise by @fauxprof - huzzah, meg!
Dawn’s real nightmare is that she inherited Wilbur’s nose instead of Gail’s.
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