"I'm trying to WORK!" Bokomon shouted at his companion, gesturing wildly at the giant tome on the table. "I promised the humans that I would write every detail of our adventures, and I can't do that when you keep POKING me!"
Neemon paused, raising his yellow hand to his mouth. "Hmm..." he pondered, nothing in particular in his mind.
"And will you stop doing that!" It was all Bokomon could do to keep from beating Neemon about the head with the Book.
"Doing what?"
Bokomon's eye twitched. "Standing over me and bothering me! There's only so much any mon can take of your little noises and your poking! AND," he continued, "your humming, and your asking me questions like 'how many Tuesdays till winter?'--"
"You still didn't answer!" Neemon interjected.
"--and your slurping your supper, and your--"
Bokomon continued on, hus voice reaching a near-fevered pitch, but Neemon didn't seem to notice. Nodding his head, he poked Bokomon in the arm. "Bokomon!"
"WHAT is it?" the aggrivated mutant-type demanded.
"Why are you yelling?" Neemon asked, blissfully unaware of the source of Bokomon's anger.
"Why am..." Bokomon was struck dumb for a second. "Because you kept POKING me!"
"Oh yeah! So now that I have your attention, I...um..." Neemon looked around, hoping something would jog his memory before he had to admit that he'd forgotten what he wanted.
"This had better be good," Bokomon muttered.
Ceiling, floor, walls, Bokomon, belly band, book...Book! That was it! "I think you're supposed to put a line between those words," Neemon decided, pointing with his poking finger at a sentence Bokomon had written on the previous page.
"A line? What in Seraphimon's name are you---oh." Bokomon had found the mistake. "So it does...Well, I'll be. You actually came in handy for once!"
Neemon smiled, nodding absently again before poking Bokomon for no reason.