CASSIE: Hey, you know what the trivia question should be?

ME: What?

CASSIE: “How many calories are in the Banana Crème Crunch Bar?”

KATE: Oh God. People can’t count that high.

ME: Do we give it to them if they just say ‘billions’? Can we round it?

KATE: … down?

CASSIE: What are the actual numbers, anyway?

KATE: I think they were too afraid to list it on the board.

ME: It just says ‘Higher than the thread count on Oprah’s sheets.’

KATE: What?

CASSIE: Oh, I remember that—the whole audience got those kajillion-count sheets.

ME: It’s good to be Oprah.

KATE: Man, she has more money than the Pope. Do you think she even sleeps on sheets?

ME: Probably not. Probably, like, the skins of a hundred cheetahs.

KATE: Or a hundred blue-footed boobies…

ME: Or a hundred babies…

CASSIE: Eeeew!

ME: Well, she could. She’s rich enough.

KATE: Famous enough.

ME: She’d probably be able to get a fresh batch every night, too.

KATE: Being rich means never having to sleep on the same dead babies twice.

ME: That’s probably the motto of the Rich People Masons.

KATE: Or the Skull and Bones society; I’m pretty sure they’re all rich. And white. And men.

ME: Coincidentally.

CASSIE: Guys, Oprah gives billions to like, Save the Children and African relief and stuff.

ME: Yes she does.


KATE: We’re just saying it’s possible. She most likely doesn’t.

ME: Most likely. Or the cheetahs.

KATE: No. She’s anti-fur. I think she’s a Peta member.

ME: Well yeah; because you can’t save the children and not the animals, jeez.

KATE: All the liberal rich people are anti-fur, so they can be icons.

ME: Yeah, the only people wearing fur are like, foreign dignitaries—

KATE: And Jennifer Lopez—

ME: Because nobody’s going to tell them not to.*

KATE: Exactly.

CASSIE: Whatever. Just leave Oprah out of it, OK?

ME: We’re not slamming Oprah; we’re saying that rich people can do mildly eccentric to outright criminal things, because they’re rich and they can. We’re not even talking about Oprah.

KATE: She does have that wicked-high thread count, though.

ME: That’s not all that eccentric; that’s just good, if crazy-expensive, taste.

KATE: You know who does sleep on dead babies, though.

ME: Oh, I know.


ME: Rhymes with ‘whore’s tush’.

KATE: Yup. Dead babies all the way.

ME: Dead African babies, no less.

KATE: Metaphorically at least.

ME: At the very least. 20 Billion thread count.

KATE: And wasn’t it nice of us to buy them for him?

ME: Don’t look at me. I ride a bike.

KATE: And I tell you one thing—not everybody in the audience gets one.

ME: Why isn’t Oprah all over this? And why haven’t we elected Barack Obama yet?

KATE: Oprah’s too busy with the book club. And the charities.

ME: Maybe we should call her. Those books kinda suck anyways.

CASSIE: You’re right.

ME: Huh? I thought you were sticking by Oprah.

CASSIE: I am. I meant, they don’t list the Banana Crème Crunch Bar.


ME: Does this feel like a Samuel Beckett play to anyone else?

* Except Paul. I mean, at a Peta convention? That shit is beyond tacky.


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