"I used to sell nose candy. I mean, I still do, but now I tell the pigs about it."
"What's nose candy?" you ask, anticipating some transformative concoction.
"...what," she responds, "'your world' didn't have cocaine?"
"Cocaine?!" you... exclaim may not be the right word... but project with unusual force and suddenness at your wearer.
"I guess that's a no."
"No, it did, I guess I just thought this one wouldn't."
"Uh, why? Coke kicks ass, on any planet."
"...not sure, really... I guess with all the people turning into balloons and dresses it seems kinda pedestrian."
She shakes her head. "Goddess, you really are a hopeless schizo, aren't you?" Another sigh. "If anything, I would wonder what the hell people would do on coke if they couldn't transform each other."
"...um, if you don't mind my saying, you don't sound all that repentant."
"Of fucking course I'm not! If I have anything to apologize for, it's working for these cunts now. The goddess made coca, woman refined it, and some bluehairs banned it because they were afraid of anyone whose hearts could still handle it. And now I'm working for those bluehairs to save my own chickenshit ass. And you can give those exact words to that cunt Christy, making fucking sure you include these."
"Uh... sorry I asked."
"You should be."