[Continued from the previous nonsensical burst of non-creativity. What shouldn't have been, but is, and will in all non-probability be unlikely to not stop existing]
Pencil : How dare you threaten me with a sharpener?
Eraser : Beg your pardon. Terribly sorry. Should I be threatening you with a sword then?
Pencil : No, it's just a long blade.
Eraser : Scapula then?
Pencil : Don't you go Latin on me.
Eraser : Can I go talin on you?
Pencil : You are not making sense.
Eraser : That's only because I'm making molehill.
Pencil : Molehill?
Eraser : Yes, out of a mountain.
Pencil : I think it's the other way around.
Eraser : How? Niatnuom makes much less sense, you know.
Pencil : It reminds me of the volcanic mountain experiment. You remember that one?
Eraser : Oh don't remind me of that. I still get night-horses about it. Only, they are all females.
Pencil : I'm feeling weird again.
Eraser : I'm feeling like re-incarnation of the carnation you trampled last week.
Pencil : Don't be silly. I couldn't have trampled a nation full of cars. But I do feel like Baby's Breath now.
Carnation : Do you now? Hope not the just-burped kind. 'cause that would just be nasty
Baby's Breath : Shh.. Do you hear that?
Carnation : Hummmmmmmmmm. Huh? Hear what? Hummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
Baby's Breath : Sounds like some one's humming.
Carnation : Hummmmmmmmmm. Humming? What is it sounding like? Hummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
Baby's Breath : Like some one's humming, you comprehensive bowl of lard.
Carnation : Hummmmmmmmmm. You are invoking me now. Hummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
Baby's Breath : You mean provoking, you sincere ignoramus.
Carnation : Hummmmmmmmmm. This will not end well. It may very well end in a well. Hummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
[I will bring an end to it when I figure out what "it" exactly is]
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