"why is it you always come home covered in blood?"

"because i never bring a change of clothes with me."

"is it your blood this time, or someone else's?"

"oh, it's rebecca's."

"why is rebecca bleeding?"

"i think she's stopped by now."

"glad to hear it, but why was she bleeding in the first place?"

"right. rebecca got hit by a train."

"gosh- is she alright?"

"yeah, of course."

"shit, good thing. man, what happened?"

"i told you, rebecca got hit by a train."

"no shit. i mean, how did she get hit by the train?"

"well, see, she was on the tracks at the moment the train was-"

"fuck off. you know what i mean."

"i'm just messing with you."

"are you going to tell me?"

"not really, no."

"why not?"

"because you're an ugly fucker."

"am i?"

"yeah, you are. hey- don't touch me."

"shit- it's not like i want to. just why are you covered in blood?"

"rebecca got hit by a train."

"yeah, i get that. but why are you the one who's bloody?"

"i was too close."

"you were by her when she fell on the tracks?"

"yes. i mean, no. she didn't fall."

"no?"

"no."

"shit. what happened?"

"well, i pushed her."

"why the fuck would you do that?"

"the girl's a bitch."

"you have to be kidding me."

"i'm not."

"you're covered in rebecca's blood because you pushed her in front of a train?"

"yes."

"you could've killed her- gosh, i mean- rebecca got hit by a train."

"nah, she's cut from a hearty cloth."

"you're sick."

"thanks, doc. i feel fine."

"shut up."

"stop being so negative."

"fuck. whatever. well, i mean, at least rebecca caught the train, right?"

"i guess. but technically, the train caught her."