Jenkins wandered aimlessly around the room, thinking what to ask his best friend.  “How did you ever eat an entire melon without swallowing?”

            Bat Girl’s green mustache lit up “What ever do you mean?  I just pushed real hard on my stomach.  You know, like last week when,” She was cut off by Jenkins’ walkie-talkie.

            “Jenkins!  Jenkins!  Come in Jenkins!”  So, Jenkins walked into the next room.  No one was there, so he went back out. 

            “That was strange”, he commented to Bat Girl.  “I went in and saw six guys named Jules.  Wow, were they ever non-existent!”

            Bat Girl looked suspiciously beneath her cape. “Is it me, or is the bacteria on my arm looking a bit peekish?  And what does peekish mean anyway?”

            “I think it rhymes with ‘although’, but I’m not sure.  Anyway, did I ever mention that I routinely buy my clothes at the bowling alley?  Very, uh, round.”

            “Actually, that’s about all you have ever said.  I remember when I was your mother, and you only said ‘bowling alley, bowling alley’ all you wanted was that stupid ‘bowling alley’.  So I crucified you.”

            “Yeah.  That was the day after you died, wasn’t it?  I remember now, because you first told me that my shin was a heretic, so I ate all of the fish of your brother, Paco”, was Jenkins’ honest answer, spoken in Yiddish.

            “Jenkins, there still is a fish on your lip.  Maybe that’s why we always called you harelip.  Get it!  Hare - Lip!!  HAHAHAH (that one always gets me)...”

            “Why have you always mocked me!  Ever since next Tuesday, you’ve insulted me!  I hate you Bat Girl!”, bawled Jenkins.

            Jenkie, Jenkie , Jenkie, must you never remind me to use quotes before talking? “asked Bat Girl rather grammatically incorrect”?

            “Oh, I see that work you’ve done with vulgar wombats has proven that you do, indeed, like to watch reruns of the plants in your living room.  Ha, didn’t think I knew about that, did you?”

            “I didn’t even think you knew how to spell wombat let alone pronounce it.  Very talented.  You are a sheep of many fur coats,” complemented Bat Girl in between bites of her tongue.

            “Thanks”, Jenkins stated, only adding a silent π before the ‘m’.  “I really appreciate that, Batsy.  I have been meaning to comment on your appearance, though, all night.  I love your back.  I thought it would be gone by now.”

            “Why this back?  I thought you knew!  My sister traded it to me for my left test, er, um, arm”  Bat Girl looked to the window to see a shadowy form descending on the glass pain.   “OOOOOOwwwwwweeeeeee!!” screeched Batsy.

            “So, Batsy, as I was saying, do you think that today’s society is reflective of the selfish efforts of the older generation, or the neglected efforts of our generation?” inquired Jenkins as Bat Girl writhed in pain on the floor.

            “Could you repeat the question?  It seems I left my ears in my other costume.”  Bat Girl’s blush was as bright as a day-glow earthworm.

            “Oh, I just asked why you were covered with camel urine.”

            “Yes, I like them very much, thanks.”

            “So,” initiated Jenkins, not too sure of what to say, “Why did you call for me to come here carrying six million grains of. . . .well, grain?”

            “Actually, it was a wrong number.   Sorry about that.”

            “Oh, that’s actually quite interesting, because I knew exactly what you were talking about when you mentioned ‘moon people from under the steps that have some strange affectation to anything transparent’.  Uh, eleven.”  Jenkins was suddenly unsure of his shoe size.

            “What?  That’s impossible, I only speak 8 words of English and three of them are the number 8!”  Bat Girl whipped out a pocket dictionary and repeatedly pummeled Jenkins to the ground.

            “Oh, that’s funny, because when I first saw you, I could have sworn that you were the type to be inducted into the Badminton Hall of Fame[1].”

            ”Help!  My Quotations are BACKWARDS“ screamed Bat Girl, who was looking more and more depressing as the more deer fixated themselves to her head.

            “That’s okay.  You could melt them with a fire extinguisher if needed, and I still love you. . . .and your---WOW!  Nice shoes!”, he exclaimed twice.

             Bat Girl looked down, which is hard with a herd of non-domestic animals wrapped in her hair.  Quite promptly, she fell.  “Wait, I didn’t get to say my quote!”

            “Concrete, my friend.  Concrete with a side of more concrete.  That is what one should eat every day to stay trim and Martian.”, Jenkins said through sign language.

            “Hey!  That’s sexist!   Lawyer!  I want my Lawyer doll.  The cute one, with the pink dress and blue tights, that looks like Tom Cruise in A Few Good Men.” Bat Girl echoed inaudibly to human ears.

            “Do you realize, Batrella, that we’ve been here, in this room, for two pages and three paragraphs without so much as a burrito or a plot?  I mean, what would the plumber think?”  Jenkins had a valid point here, or so he said he thought he might have said he had.

            “Ahhh, and only two minutes left!  By Tchukchuck, you’re right, George!  Damn, wrong show.  I’m leaving now.  Bye.”  Bat Girl turned to leave.  Would she go?  Would Jenkins die from african ring around the collar?  Will the writers get bored and leave for ninth period?  Find out... in the next paragraph.