EB: hey, i'm out on the balcony now.
EB: i am messaging from my dad's pda.
TT: The one you threw into the yard?
EB: no, i am telling you.
EB: it jumped out of my sylladex like a frightened weasel.
TT: What were you doing with it in the first place?
TT: I am not sensing a lot of regard for the personal property of others.
TT: Is this how your pent-up frustration with your father manifests itself?
EB: what? no.
EB: those were all accidents.
EB: please take your psycho-babblery elsewhere, miss!
TT: Your bathroom is a mess.
TT: Did you do that too?
EB: oh man, see this isn't cool.
EB: all this snooping nonsense!
TT: There's a cake in the toilet.
EB: yes. there is.
TT: I'm tempted to clean it up for you.
EB: ok, if that will satisfy your weird ocd complex then go ahead.
TT: My Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder complex?
TT: Can a disorder also be a complex?
EB: in your case, probably!
TT: Sounds complicated.
EB: anyway...
EB: i am going to have a look at this enormous platformy thing you put on the balcony.