Michael: “My darling, isn’t it lovely, being out in here in the woods?”
Liza: “Well, I suppose you could say that. But there is one thing that’s troubling me…”
Michael, sighing: “I knew this day would come. But I can assure you that despite what you’ve heard at the Kit Kat Klub, I did not sleep with that man from Prague. I slept with your other boyfriend.”
Liza: “Interesting. Remind me to follow up on that at a later time. But right now I’m more concerned about what I’m seeing over there.”
Michael: “Is it someone else that I slept with and shouldn’t have?”
Liza: “Really, dear, it would be nice if you weren’t knocking boots with the entire country, but we have a more pressing issue, so let’s try to focus.”
Michael: “You’re right, my little bearded love. Pray tell, what does thou see on yonder rise?”
Liza: “I believe I am watching an Austrian family running from Nazis while climbing a mountain and singing songs about kittens with whiskers and a female deer and some flower with a long-ass name.”
Michael: “That sounds like a musical I would never go to see, despite my previously-undiscussed predilections for showtunes and Kit Kat connections.”
Liza: “And now there’s a nun running along and waving a distributor cap. Should we be concerned?”
Michael: “I’m more concerned about how it’s possible for you to close your eyes with all that mascara.”
Liza: “Oh, we went there, did we? Well, perhaps I should ask how it’s possible for you to close your legs.”
Three seconds of silent reflection as the duo contemplated the severity of what their next words should be. Even a nearby deer, frolicking along with a butterfly that had once appeared in a Disney movie, paused to see where this was going. (The butterfly did not notice or pause, because butterflies, despite their prettiness, have brains the size of a neutron.)
Then the duo laughed it off and went back to doing what they had been doing, with Liza lackadaisically tracking the nun on the run and Michael wondering just what he might have missed by not sleeping with the man from Prague.
Previously published. I did mess around with the ending a bit, just for fun. And yes, I realize that this post is not as enjoyable if you haven’t seen at least one of the movies referenced, but that’s what you sometimes get here at Bonnywood, an unseemly amount of trivia and a butterfly that doesn’t know when to stop.
Categories: Past Imperfect