Cyborg "This thing's throat is a keyhole. The donkey is a door." Rita "Ugh, God. To what?" Cyborg "Wherever Jane went? Where the Chief still is? Where an entire town is still trapped." Rita "Or it's a perfectly normal donkey." Cyborg "Okay, so let's take a look inside. I can't get in there." Rita "Oh, no. No. Under no circumstances." Cyborg "Rita, I've seen what you can do with your body." Rita "No. You've seen what happens to my body when it gets stressed out. And do you know what's stressing me out right now? The idea of shoving my face down the slimy throat of a diseased animal. Is this funny to you? Does my humiliation get your blood pumping? I'd like to know what you're picturing right now. Are you going to shove me in a sack, hmm? A trash bag? Cut a little hole so you can squeeze me into that syphilitic beast like a tube of toothpaste? Push my eye into a funnel and force me into the bowels of a braying shit-factory without my consent?" Cyborg "Would that work?" Rita "I am a Golden Globe nominee!!" Rita walking away "Treat me like some carnival grotesque. I was the lead in Cupid Knocks Thrice. Tell me she's given up something about the Chief, or the townies, or whatever." Cliff "See for yourself. I think she's getting worse. You were right, Rita. I have no clue how to fix this. I'm fucking powerless." Rita "Oh, for the love of God. I need a trash bag." --- Rita "Whether the weather be cold, or whether the weather be hot... Whether the weather be cold..." Cyborg "What is she doing?" Larry "I don't know. Rita needs to emote in order to blob." Rita "...whether the weather be hot...Let's set some ground rules. One, during this entire ordeal, nobody is allowed to look at me. Two, when I am in the bag, you will only squeeze me as I ask to be squeezed. Three, when I see whatever is in this disgusting keyhole, you will immediately pull me out and we will never speak of this again"
