Bob: Oh, I think I put the seat up too far.
Dottie: Shut up. Our plot-important son is missing!
Bob: Does he seriously have to pick tonight of all nights to pull a stunt like this? This never happened back home.
Dottie: I said shut up! Besides, where could he go? The kid's all of four feet tall and eight years old.
Bob: He's eight? How come nobody ever told me this?
Dottie: For the last time, keep quiet. Unless Tony's doing anything plot-related, we need to find him.
Dottie: *is trying to figure out logical explanations and rational reasons for Tony's disappearance*
Lorna: *is presumably pleading her case that she's not crazy*
Dottie: If he's not here, I swear I'll--
Dottie and Bob: What the--?
Bob: I thought you said he was gone.
Lorna: I swear to you he was!
Bob: *is wondering why he hired a seemingly nuts babysitter*
Dottie: It looks like everything's fine.
Bob: Does something smell a little funky to you?
Dottie: Come to think of it, yes.
Lorna: We best get out of here, Mr. and Mrs. Thompson. A smell like that is bad luck.
Dottie: (inner dialogue) Okay, a slightly superstitious babysitter. Questionable influence for our son, unless she can spout anything useful and plot relevant.
Bob: If we close the window, then maybe that'll help.
Bob: If only I can get this latch to work.
Dottie: Ohhh. Sweet dreams.
*doesn't want to make herself sound any more insane*
Rudolph: *mentally urging the babysitter to leave*
Dottie: You coming? We're having drinks downstairs. Bob makes a mean whiskey cocktail.
Tony: Rudolph--
Rudolph: Shh, your mother's still here.
Dottie: If they're having a mental exchange, I'm sure the ability will never be explained or brought up ever again. He's already mastered the art of the plot hole! How cute!
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