He fishes his hand into the (mostly air filled) bag of sour cream and onion potato chips and retrieves the snack between the pads of his digits. He stretches an arm out to feed the ol’ bean, but makes a u-turn back to his mouth to cram the chip between the seam of his lips. ”You have some nerve crashing my party and expecting snacks. Congratulations, Marty, you’ve successfully sucked the fun out of everything.”
“I didn’t really crash if you were expecting me- look on Wikipedia next time before adding metaphorical insult to metaphorical injury,” he stuck out his tongue before feigning a slap on the other’s cheek, eyeing the bag full of Unhealthy Heaven’s favourite vegetable- which happened to be his favourite too. “You even had some nasty comment for me as I came to do the door. That’s called planning ahead, or maybe meditated assault.”
“We’re back to square one, where I either gossip about you like the kids on that one reality show or gallop passed you and inside while forgetting your malicious attacks.” Placing his index and middle digits to hover near his mouth, he mimicked vampire teeth, clamping them down. “You must live to tear people down. I’m ashamed. Lock yourself in a room and think about what you’ve done. Change the world.”