Me: What do you want to do tonight, babe?

Her: I don't know. Let's go down to the basement and talk about it.

Me: Why do you always want to go to the basement? It's dark, and wet, and gross.

Her: Ugh, you're so not spontaneous.

We hear shattered glass and heavy breathing.

Me: Did you hear that?

Her: Hello? Hello? Hello? Hello? Hello? Hello? Hello? Hello? Hello?

Me: Nine’s enough.

Her: Quick, turn off the lights!

Me: Turn them off? Why?

Her: That’s what it said to do in the forbidden videotape I watched to calm down after I was in that hit-and-run.

Me: Why don’t we go to Chili’s and – wait, what?

Her: Hey, there's some kind of tunnel over here that leads underground! And a trail of what appears to be red paint… I love art! Let's see where it leads.

Me: Sweetie, please.

Her: It'll be fun. We can recite dark incantations to pass the time. "Non bagno te, bagno il tuo cuore! Che sempre più tu mi possa amare…"

Me: How did you possibly know that? You don't know what these words can –

Her: Beetlejuice Beetlejuice Beetlejuice!

Me: Now you're just being ridiculous.

Her: Ooh, look. An ancient torture device from the Middle Ages.

She lies down on it.

Me: I really don't feel comfortable –

Her: "Ooh, look at me, I'm a sex-starved serf from 1455, take me now before I get my eyes scooped out with these big old rusty spikes!"

Me: Stop that.

Her: WHY? EVEN IF THERE WAS A SERIAL KILLER HERE, I BET HE WOULDN'T HAVE THE BALLS TO MURDER US!

Me: Jesus, lower your voice! Or at least don't yell inflammatory statements!

Close by, we hear the sound of knives being sharpened and a maniacal laugh.

Her: BRB, I'm gonna hop in the shower.