Moist

"Mmm, this cake is soo good!"

"Really?"

"Yes! It's so moist. How do you do it, Mitchie?"

"What did you just say?"

"I said it was good."

"No. Before that."

"Mitchie?"

"No."

"How do you do it?"

"No!"

"Moist?"

"Yes!"

"What about it? This cake you made is really moist. Yes. Moist."

"Oh my god, stop saying that!"

"Why? What's so wrong about the word moist?"

"Because it's gross!"

"Why?"

"Because it's so… provocative."

"Ooh, big words! Shane can't handle that!"

"Shane, don't say those pornographic words."

"Moist?"

"Yes!"

"Wait, what word?"

"That one!"

"Which one?"

"Moist!"

"Oh my god, Mitchie, you just said moist!"

"Oh, shut up, Shane."

"Moist."

"Seriously. That's disgusting."

"How is a word disgusting? I'll show you disgusting…"

"EW! Shane, put your pants back on!"

"Oh my god, Mitchie, you're so moist!"

"Am not!"

"Are to!"

"You know what? I'm not even going to have this conversation with you."

"Fine… God Mitch, you don't have to be so moist about it."

"Who said I was moist?"

"You did."

"I did?"

"Yes. You ARE moist."

"I am not."

"Are to!"

"Am not!"

"Yes you are, you little moist liar!"

"What?"

"Liar!"

"I didn't even say anything."

"Yes you did!"

"Yeah? And what did I say?"

"…"

"Exactly."

"Ugh, why do you have to be so moist?"

"Okay, really?"

"Yes. I'm really. Really moist."

"EW."

"And so are you… I can tell."

"What?"

"Come to bed with me."

"What?"

"Yes. You are moist."

"I am not – get that cake away from me."

"Oh dearest Mitchie, you are very moist. Or are you just happy to see me?"

"Oh my god…"

"What? It's not my fault you make such moist cakes."

"…"

"You know, it says on the box, 'our moistest cake ever.' More like, our moistest Mitchie ever."

"Shut up."

"Aww, you're blushing!"

"Am not!"

"Are to!"

"Yes you are, Mitch."

"Get away from me, Shane."

"Why? I can't help it… I'm so moist right now. Just like your cake."

"This is beyond disturbing."

"What? It's not like we haven't ever had sex before."

"Yeah, well not with cake smeared across your face."

"Would you like me to smear it across your nipples?"

"I'll pass, thanks."

"Aw, come on. I'll go get the Cool Whip!"

"Shane, you don't have to get the – fine."

"Wear it."

"No."

"Do it!"

"Ugh, fine."

"I meant somewhere tasty, not your arm."

"Would you like it here?"

"Hmm… maybe."

"Fine then."

"You ma'am, are very yummy."

"Indeed."

"Very… moist."

"Again with the pornographic word…"

"Well it doesn't get more pornographic than me eating whipped cream off your boobies."

"Well…"

"Well?"

"Well…"

"Yes?"

"This is… very…"

"It's very what?"

"Moist."

"Ah ha! I knew it!"

"Knew what?"

"That you were moist!"

"I never said that I was moist, I said the whipped cream was."

"Uh huh, sure. And I'll believe you."

"…"

"Let's get some pudding."

"No, I want no more food on me, please. Ugh, fine…"

"Not on you, on me."

"You just put it on your head…"

"I know."

"…."

"It's getting pretty moist up there, I think you should lick it off."

"As much as I love you, Shane, I'm not going to lick pudding out of your hair."

"I licked whipped cream off your boobies!"

"Yeah, well you didn't get a mouthful of hair!"

"How do you know?"

"Because I would have known. Now get that goddamn pudding out of your hair."

"I think we need the… moist cake you made."

"Stop saying that?!"

"Why? Because it makes you… moist?"

"No, chocolate cake does not make me moist."

"Well… it makes me moist… Mmmm, oh god! Oh cake, you are so moist! Delicious!"

"Stop foodgasming."

"Well what if I want to foodgasm?"

"Too bad. I'm going to take that cake of yours away."

"Can I… lick it off you?"

"You are so sick."

"Actually, I'm moist."