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Light on the mayo
S.: So what would you do for me if you could do anything in the world for me?
H.: Do for you?
S.: Right.
H.: Why would I want to do anything for you?
S.: Because you love me.
H.: I do, huh?
S.: Right.
H.: And you want to know what I would do for you?
S.: If you could do anything in the world, right.
H.: That's a tough one.
S.: Think about it. But not too long.
H.: That's not fair.
S.: I'm impatient. What can I say?
H.: Okay. What would I do...
S.: For me. If you could do anything in the world. For me.
H.: I've got it.
S.: What?
H.: If I could do something for you, of all the things in the world that I could possibly do for you...
S.: Yes?
H.: I'd put you in a time machine and put you a few seconds in the future so we both already know what I've done for you.
S.: That's so unfair.
H.: Well, probably. But it's what I'd do.
S.: So if we went into the future and looked back, what would you have done?
H.: Oh... Well, you've got me there, haven't you.
S.: Come on. Think.
H.: I think I'd probably have hit you in the head hard enough that you wouldn't remember that I couldn't think of anything to do for you.
S.: That's not very nice.
H.: Right. But in the future, since we went into the past to see what I did to you, you kicked me in the balls, so we're square.
S.: Okay. How's bologna sandwiches sound for lunch?
H.: Dandy.
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