Grace woke up, startled, possibly by the buzzing New York noise that was emanating from her slightly open window or, more likely, by Karen lying barely half an inch from her with her eyes wide open.
"Karen! What the hell??" Grace screamed, bolting upright.
"Grace Adler Designs?" came Karen's weak response, as she slowly regained her senses under Grace's inquisitive glare. "Oh, sorry honey, I thought I was in the wrong bed, what with that freakshow in your wardrobe there. But, you know, LSD is a hell of a drug, and I lost my limo in a dance-off with Candy Bergen on the upper-west side, so, hope you don't mind I stayed!".
Grace almost spoke, but sensing that she would probably never penetrate the 5000-year old fog in Karen's mind, she resigned to simply smiling at Karen and lying back down. At the moment of Grace's relaxation, Karen leaped out of the bed with horror.
"Honey, I only did that once, and that was only because I owed Ellen Degeneres after she covered up that incident with the car-jacking for me!", Karen yelled, as she formed her arms into a cross-shape, as if to ward off some kind of lesbian-friendly vampire. Confused, Grace rose from the bed and proceeded to slowly walk into the kitchen, where Will was standing holding a frying pan in an attack position. As he saw Grace he motioned her to stop, and in one quick motion, smacked the floor repeatedly.
"If you don't like those clogs you bought, the easiest thing is just to take them back, rather than destroying them, Selma High-Kick.", Grace said, raising her eyebrows.
"Look at this saucepan! Not a dent, not even a mark, but when you try and fry bacon in it, this happens!" Will turned the frying pan and pointed to the inside, which on closer inspection appeared to resemble some kind of modern art piece, one of those which is just a black splodge that some "artist" made when they got drunk and tripped over a tin of emulsion, but then pretended had some deep meaning and sold it for thousands of dollars. "Now I remember why I don't buy things from market stalls! Stainless steel my ass!"
"Now now Delilah," said Grace, walking up to Will and hugging him, "It's just a frying pan, no object is that…", Grace trailed off, sudden fear grasping her by the shoulders, like a massage from some woman who you notice has just eaten KFC and not washed her hands ("Yeah, we're out of oil, but hey, I'm all greased up!").
"You mean to tell me, that there is NO BACON, just because you had to buy a cheap-o 20 pan from 'Rust-r-us?? I HATE YOU!". Grace slammed the counter top and adopted an attack posture. Will sighed, put down the pan and looked at Grace, his expression a mixture of shock and expectation, marvelled by Grace's innate ability to flip a conversation around to be about her in a split second. However, before he could reply, Karen stumbled into the room, lipstick smeared all over her face and clothes all buttoned up incorrectly.
"Woah yeah!" she exclaimed "Oh Grace, you are a TIGRESS! But I have never seen that flower patterned shirt before, and honey, it's better that way." Grace looked at Karen, bemused, as Karen made kissing faces and licked her lips.
"Karen, I've been out here for five minutes, you just made out with a throw pillow."