NO YOU DON'T

Persimon: I have a friend-

Temecula: No you don't.

Persimon: Her name is Temecula.

Temecula: No.

Persimon: Temecula manufactures toothpaste; toothpaste from human wastes.

Temecula: That's not possible.

Persimon: Wastes of all kinds... But the deal is, you see, that you need to travel to her.

Temecula: And where does she live? The Moon?

Persimon: She lives out on the waste heap.

Temecula: Of course she does.

Persimon: And that's where you must go to get her bespoke pastes.

Temecula: Of course.

Persimon: And it'll cost you, too.

Temecula: I bet.

Persimon: More than that wee plastic piping bag of Sensodyne or Crest at the chemist.

Temecula: Doubtless.

Persimon: It costs more than a movie ticket or a night out on the town.

Temecula: Right.

Persimon: All this while I offer, in my stupidity, some paste for your tooth, a wee bit of floss, some homebrew mouth wash, and one of those little round dental mirrors, and a chewing gum or two.

Temecula: Do you?

Persimon: I do. And all packaged nice, in a little box, delivered right to your door.

Temecula: Whose door?

Persimon: Yours.

Temecula: Nah.

Persimon: And at a cost only to me.

Temecula: Can't be.

Persimon: And year-after-year, Temecula has delivered to herself her mother and step-mother, brother-in-law and step-brother-in-law, the dental assistant down the lane, and, oh, three dozen of her closest neighbours and friends -- all to the waste-paste dispensery, in another county, in another state, and all at their own dreadful expense.

Temecula: I don't buy it.

Persimon: My little box, of mouthly inspection and polish and shine, on the other hand? Put out with the trash.

Temecula: I don't buy it.

Persimon: No, you don't.