Charm School? You aren’t making any sense. It’s impossible. You couldn’t have lost her to a charm school graduate. David, I’m the best dating tutor that money can buy. Not a single one of my clients has ever failed to land his woman. As pathetic as you were when I met, you still seemed capable of being trained, groomed, and directed into succeeding at your goal. And Carolina was a fine choice, not just pretty but sweet and bright and she liked you even in your rumpled, disorganized, entirely passionless prior existence.
The two test runs we tried went very well. They both called today, by the way. They could be yours again in a hummingbird’s heartbeat. But now you’re telling me that you lost the big fish to some overdressed transvestite impersonator that Caroline met when he was dancing on a table in a downtown bar?
What? It doesn’t matter that you lost Carolina because that absurd charm school sold you this lousy kit? How can you believe that this jumble of crap guarantees you’ll to get picked by a woman who will love you for what you really are? What you are is crazy! A man doesn’t get chosen. He chooses!!!
Give me that stupid box! Look here you idiot! There’s nothing in it but dust, feathers, and few glass beads. And FACE PAINT? You are actually be planning to wear these fake pigtales?
You’ve stopped taking your meds. Where’s the bottle? Take two, no three, right now!
I don’t care if the damned dirt comes in three traditional colors: red, white, orange. I wouldn’t care if it were fucking dayglow polka-dots. It’s irrelevant! Listen to me, David, “Men don’t wear dirt to get laid. They don’t wear eyeliner. They don’t wrap their mud-covered heads in 10 yards of white napkins. Look at you, you’re a walking, talking no-brain disaster.
Here we are? This is the place? This sleazy little hole in the wall is the charm school?
Stop that right now!! That’s disgusting! Don’t you have any pride? You’re psychotic, epileptic, peripatetic. Your eyes are rolling around in your head. In opposite ways. Now they’re crossed. Watch your head on the door.
What the fuck! Let’s get out. I’m leaving. Right now. I quit. No! I warned you. I quit, quit, quit . . . . what are so many women doing here?
My god, they’re all so beautiful, so eager, so . . . GET ME A GROSS OF THESE KITS!