Dorian and Jim spent the day working in the garage, making Dagorhir weapons. At the end of the day, they came over to our place and started watching Logan's Run. I'm afraid I was paying more attention to the movie than their conversation (they were still talking weapons specs, I think), so I missed the lead up, but, apparently, Dorian fell asleep in the middle of their conversation.
Dorian: "Yeah, I like to use an extra layer of blue foam...on the core...I always use monkey grip on all of my weapons..."
And now, from last night:
(Translated from Spanish) "I am the cheese, take the gun!"
Dorian rolled over and started tugging at my pants.
"Need..."
"Wha?"
"Need..."
"You...need my pants?"
"Yeah, or else."
"Or else what?"
"Belgium."
And this morning, I was prodded awake with this:
"How's the king?"
"Huh?"
"How did the election for the king go?"
"What king?"
"The king of encephalitis."
He then spent the next thirty to forty minutes repeatedly asking about the king. I had to wake him up so I could get some sleep.
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