It's Complicated

I talk to the Narrator. You can call that God, or Allah or Fred MacMurray for all I care. Guessing is guessing. My bet is the Narrator's busy. This does not mean I shut up. I'm walking through KMart.

Tata: Kurt Vonnegut is either about a million or in his eighties. Most of the people who survived the firebombing of Dresden are dead now of old, old age. The least you could do is wave some magic stick and make your characters remember the important stuff. Where are the large kitchen garbage cans?
Narrator: What? Try Housewares.
Tata: It's raining a lot since yesterday. I'm broke, I've had a headache for three weeks, and I'm trying to read Dad's coming-of-age novel, which can be a little weird. Still, I hesitate to complain about anything since I'm fortunate enough to have a job, a roof over my head and doggedly devoted friends.
Narrator: Yeah...consider getting your oil changed.
Tata: I'll..do that. Thanks.
Narrator: Where is the stage manager? I could swear Martha Stewart's new line had colors with a pulse.
Tata: Shoot, you're barking up the wrong tree there. Last week, I bought red Martha sheets and when I washed them they turned a weird I File my Nails While You Lick Me Orange. Did you know orange could lack passion?
Narrator: Who told you you were smart? I'm going to smite them.
Tata: Let's change the subject, shall we? Does anyone know the lyrics to "Louie Louie"?
Narrator: Maybe...nope, that guy's dead. That other guy doesn't remember last Thursday.
Tata: Hey! If you're going to answer questions, why are the cruel, selfish bastards in charge?
Narrator: Who said I was answering your questions? CLEAN UP IN AISLE 9.
Tata: Oh, come on. What could you possibly be narrating? Who are you talking to?
Narrator: I love that John Cusack. Ever seen Better Off Dead?
Tata: Sure. It's one of my favorites. I absolutely hate these garbage cans.
Narrator: Everybody wants some! I want some too! Everybody wants some! Baby, how 'bout you?
Tata: Talking to you is like chatting up a stoned bowling team. What a nightmare!
Narrator: You'd know, Mata Hari!
Tata: I'm making cosmic similes and you're making like Don Rickles.
Narrator: I want my two dollars!
Tata: Okay, I need a shade for my kitchen window so I don't get arrested for making breakfast naked.
Narrator: Puddin', I could use some Snakpaks. Turn right.
Tata: Forget it. Turn left. One aisle up are the blinds and window shades. Bamboo would look all wrong. I hate the blinds. What do you think of the Roman shades?
Narrator: Whoops. Earthquake in Pakistan.
Tata: What? Are you kidding me?
Narrator: During the course of this shopping trip two whole galaxies self-destructed. What on earth - pardon the pun - made you think Pakistan was safe?
Tata: It's my planet and I'll cry if I want to! Hey! You are listening to me! Why can't you fix that starvation on earth thing?
Narrator: Aluminum blinds are for the birds, baby!
Tata: We agree! Look, I'm going to need an electric screwdriver to put this up. Are you coming with me to Sears tomorrow or what?
Narrator: Maybe. I've got a 10:30 with Chuck Schumer.
Tata: Face the Nation?
Narrator: Rock, paper, scissors.
Tata: Well, at least you didn't say Wesson Oil Twister. By the way, I love my new apartment but the wiring is totally inadequate for the modern go-getter's needs.
Narrator: White Cheddar Cheez-Its!
Tata: I'm thinking this explains the platypus.
Narrator: Doritos? Keen!