“That was,” she paused, “different.”
“Yes, it’s avant garde.” He accompanied his mispronunciation with jazz hands.
“I see that,” she shuffled papers on her desk. “Might I ask some questions?”
“Sure.”
“Why mewling? It wasn’t explained.”
“It completes the message.”
“Mr.” she glanced down, “Z,” the fake smile was back, “I always think it’s a good idea, when writing, to state your central idea.”
“I think it’s clear.”
“God I picked the wrong day to quit drinking,” she thought.