“So what’s the idea?”
“Okay, so, the old man went to go get some last-minute stuff for the Christmas party.”
“Russell says you sound stupid when you state the obvious.”
“He always says I sound stupid, and I mean, so do you, though I have no idea how you get a pass on it.”
“Wha – hey, that’s mean! Russell likes me!”
“You know, I sure hope he does, otherwise I’m going to default to the theory that he’s a mad scientist disguised as a bum who uses you for experiments.”
“…Huh?”
“Ooooh! Maybe he’s really your dad!”
“…He’s not my dad…”
“How do you know? Maybe you’re the spawn of him and that lady in that picture, and she died in childbirth, and then, wrought with grief, the old man set about experimenting on you to try and bring her back to life, and –”
“Simon –”
“- and that’s why you lost your memory!”
“He’s not an alchemist…”
“…Why do you know what alchemy is but you weren’t aware of the function of a toaster until last week?”
“I…I dunno…”
“Right.”
“So um – Mr. Blasty. What are you doing with it?”
“Mr. Blast – OH, right, the gun! Okay, so – maybe I can do something to get the old man to like me, I’m thinking. And if you help me, he’ll be really appreciative of you for what we accomplished!”
“Which is…?”
