"Scrunchie? Do I look like Olivia Newton-John to you? First of all, we're not living in a material world anymore, Madonna. Secondly, I don't do jazzercise. So you can keep your scrunchies and your butterfly clips and your lycra shorts to yourself. Thank you very much."
Rasmus tilted his head to the side and then gave a long dramatic sigh that might have been an expression of some unspoken longing or it might have just been a desire to expel extra carbon dioxide into the space around him and aid in the destruction of the ozone. Regardless, his breath smelled like peppermint. He ate a tin of Altoids for breakfast.
"I like to be petted. I like to pet. I like petting. But I don't like all pets."
His face took on a far away look just then as though he'd forgotten something. Possibly the stove or his debit card. Or maybe his gummy vitamins. It was never good to ignore your vitamins. Especially C. Scurvy was no fun. Maybe he'd buy an orange.
"Demons can kiss my lily white arse. These candles aren't for impressing them. And they're not for impressing you either."
Rasmus pursed his lips and stared down at his basket.
"They will be half off after Halloween," he said. "Ah, fuck."
He dropped the basket on the floor and then reached back onto the shelf for that bag of candy and snatched another mini chocolate bar. This time it was an Almond Joy.