“Hold it. Do you hear that?”
“Hear what? I’m too busy smelling it.”
“Yes, I do detect a funkiness mixed in among the sounds.”
“Are you kidding? That stinks so bad my ancestor’s ancestors are retching into their pebble soup.”
“No need to get excited.”
“I’m not excited I’m nauseous.”
“But what about the tones, man, the tones in the aether?”
“Yeah, sure they’ve got a nice little sound going on but the aromus stinkus maximus is mucking up the melody something fierce.”
“It’s as if this planet has created a new form of olfactory music.”
“Reek n’ roll, that’s what I call it.”
“Why did you even come on this mission anyway?”
“It’s your weekend. You want I should’ve stayed with mom?”
“Well, no, of course not but still—“
“But still nothing. Other than it still stinks like a some maniac going off on a clavichord made out of hyper-dung.”
“Mind you that maniac is playing with immensely melodious vigour and verve.”
“Yeah, I can smell the melody so hard my toes are bluer than the pope’s balls.”
“Maybe we should get back to the ship—“
“Now you’re talking. And then I want to go to Pizza Godzilla!”
“Why do you insist on dragging me to that harem of pepperoni and mayhem?”
“Because mom refuses to take me.”
“She does?”
“Yes.”
“Well, in that case I don’t see why we couldn’t enjoy a slice or two of double Mothrazella and sausage.”
“Yay!”
“Now let’s get back to the ship.”