"What's up, Mark. Where're you at? Oh my god! WTF‽"
"Hey, John. It's Mark-I'm Mark! Wait: don't touch that gun!"
"I mean there's a crazy naked woman who doesn't have arms or legs laying on my friend's carpet. I'll listen to whatever BS thing you have to say and then I'll call 911. What happened here?"
"Uh, yeah… so I found this doodad I wanted to show you. Ya'ever hear of the Infinite Improbability Gun? I think I found it in a ditch. I turned my sandals into a manatee sculpture! At least, I think it was supposed to be a manatee…"
"Uh-huh. Go on."
"I called you over to show you but dropped the gun! Shot myself in the foot!"
"Ok, well… Let me hit you with it again. You've got to want your body back."
"Nooo! No, no, no. I can survive like this! Just don't hit me with the gun again. I'll probably turn into a window planter! But I will need some help now."
"Alright. Ok - hmm… But so you know: I'm takin' you with me. You live at my disposal now, Marcia!"
The newly minted Marcia shivers in unexpected delight and pauses in shy, thoughtful silence.
"Yes, master."
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