Trapped In the Elevator

“Can you not touch me? Thanks.”

“I’m not touching you!”

“The ugly heat from your dirty hands is touching my skin.”

“PMS much?”

“It’s not PMS, it’s your annoying presence.”

“Well, you’re stuck with me for the next 3 hours.”

“Don’t even remind me, God, if I had a knife…”

“Are you sure you’re not PMS-ing?”

“How about you just quit talking. You aren’t making the situation any better.”

“I’m trying to lighten up the mood, all right?”

“You’re making me suicidal with your talk.”

“You won’t get any friends with that attitude.”

“No, I won’t get any idiotic friends.”

“And those big words… are you a journalist or something?”

“I’m a lawyer, thank you.”

“Then you can help me sue this stupid building.”

“You can’t if they haven’t done anything. Why aren’t I surprised you asked that?”

“Maybe you’re psychic?”

“Maybe you’re just predictable, just like the rest of you.”

“The rest of who?”

“Ignorant people.”

“We’re not ignorant, you’re just smarter than us.”

“Oh my God.”

“I found a knife.”

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