Tick: “Well, this is embarrassing.”
Me: “You look nervous.”
Tick: “Nervous? No, I’m pretty calm, considering. I mean, you’re gonna kill me now, right?”
Me: “Yeah, I guess I’d better. And you’re telling me that doesn’t make you nervous?”
Tick: “I’m a tick. Have you ever been a tick? No? Well, if you ever get a chance to be a tick, don’t. Serious quality-of-life issues.”
Me: “Really.”
Tick: “Yeah. Listen, if you were me, what would be the high point of your day?”
Me: “I guess getting a shot at shoving my head into some unsuspecting warm-blooded animal’s skin and drinking its blood.”
Tick: “Yup. That was the plan. But you felt me crawling in your hair and you caught me.”
Me:
Tick: “You must have really sensitive hair.”
Me: “Well, yeah.”
Tick: “Kind of makes my job harder than I’d like.”
Me: “One of those quality-of-life issues…”
Tick: “Yeah.”
Me: “It must really suck to be you — ”
Tick: “NO! Oh god, tell me you didn’t — please tell me you didn’t just make a ’suck’ joke to me, to my face, in my last moments alive!”
Me: “I would have thought you’d heard every — ”
Tick: “Well, yeah. Just like you’ve probably heard every ’sensitive hair’ joke — ”
Me: “No, actually — ”
Tick: “Jeez, can’t a guy get just one fleeting moment of dignity before he cashes it in? It’s not like I’ve got anything to be proud of, being a fucking tick.”
Me: “Okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tick you … uh, off.”
Tick:
Me:
Tick:
Me:
Tick:
Me:
Tick: “Just shut up and kill me.”
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