rich kids of paris

Two friends, on an impending makeover.

Arnaud: I need you to give me a makeover.

Cecily: I am extremely expensive.

Arnaud: Perfect! I am very poor.

Cecily: I think we can come up with a solution. You be my Barbie doll. Do everything and wear everything I say. Then my services are free.

Arnaud: Deal.

Cecily: Beware, I used to pull the heads off Barbie dolls and cut their hair short, and once or twice I melted them in the microwave.

Arnaud: It all depends on the second Barbie doll you intend to melt me with.

Two friends, on lack of sheep.

Cecily: I have no sheep in my apartment.

Charles: Where do you get your wool from? How do you stay warm in the winter?

Cecily: Harrods’ cashmere.

Charles: But do your blankets and throws offer you unconditional love and, more importantly, loyalty?

Cecily: No, but my Italian greyhound does.

Two friends, on carrots.

Cecily: My grandfather suggested carrots as a cure for insomnia, and it works for me.

Arnaud: I will try them tonight!

Cecily: To improve their efficacy, talk to the carrots while you’re cooking them, or sing. I believe they like folk.

Arnaud: They will have rock, but not The Smashing Pumpkins. That would offend them.

Cecily: I beg to differ. I think the carrots should be at war with the pumpkins. Pumpkins make a better purée and you’d better believe they make a better velouté.

Two friends, on traffic lights.

Arnaud: You are a traffic light. If there were more traffic lights like you, road safety would dramatically increase. Cars would come to a standstill!

Cecily: If traffic lights sashayed around the streets with a complete disregard for cars, we’d all think we were living in Rome.

Alexander, on old authors.

Alexander: I keep reexamining the words of old authors I love in the hope of finding some semblance of clarity and comfort in their familiarity; yet it’s all for naught, and my ongoing stare-down with the Void has become more treacherous than ever.