Tittiewinks: I've been here for a while now. Anyway, how would you know if you were losing your mind?
Smackchicken: Ha! Well, you know, I keep telling my kids that if I lose my mind they should just go ahead and shoot me. I even showed them how to load the shotgun and everything!
Tittiewinks: But, I mean, how would you know for sure if you were losing your mind? I mean, say you went to the supermarket carrying a bag of your own pubic hair and started handing it out to shoppers? Let's say you did this because you were convinced that God told you to do it. And, I mean, you can't disobey God, right? Holy fucking corn pone, you know? This is your reality. This is a big deal. You're not really harming anyone per se. Or not even that. Let's pretend that you've disinfected your pubes so they truly aren't hurting anyone. Physically. We can put the psychological harm aside for now. But could we both agree you're crazy? I mean can we agree on it right now since both of us are sane or whatnot? You're saying your kids would shoot you over this? Or, worse yet, is there some trigger word you've taught them so they'd know for sure that you'd lost your mind? Because, remember, you're convinced that God wants you to do this. I mean, shit really does mean shinbone from your perspective. What then? How do you communicate that to your kids? And what if you're just fine, thank you very much, with being an insane pube philanthropist? Is that any reason to wave good-bye to existence itself?
Smackchicken: Dude, what? I was just kidding. I didn't actually tell my kids that.
Tittiewinks: You didn't? Well, good. Because if I'd told my kids something like that I'd have been shot a long time ago. So, uh, Twinkie run?
Smackchicken: Good call. Twinkie run.