“What if … You dance your lobster quadrille, and I’ll juggle some clams, and we’ll both pretend to be hidden away in a secret sea cave, where we don’t have to think about courtships or royal missions or anything but ourselves.”
We dance alone. That’s why we only play electronic music.
In a dystopian near future, single people, according to the laws of The City, are taken to The Hotel, where they are obliged to find a romantic partner in forty-five days or are transformed into beasts and sent off into The Woods.
hey babies, i’m madison. i’ve spent the past three days trying to figure out every tv show and movie that c’est la vie by b*witched was featured in. all i do is eat things i’m allergic to and cry about cute dogs. that’s about all i have to say. bring in the dancing lobsters.
Hannah: The cake was nice. Not bad for store bought, I guess. Are you OK, Sharon? You look exhausted.
Ajay: Heh, she and the girls went out last night and it got out of hand. This one didn’t get home until morning!
H: Oh, really? Which girls, Sharon? Why didn’t I know about this?
S: Actually, I didn’t go out with the girls. I went out by myself, because I felt like I was going to go crazy if I didn’t have time to myself. I drank too much and I had anonymous consensual sex with another man.
H: Pffft, oh Sharon, really! This elaborate story because of our conversation the other day? Stop being so petty.
S: I’m not lying. He bought me six cocktails, a lobster, and then we danced and then I fucked him.
A: Who was it?
S: I don’t even remember his name.
H: Of all the stupid- Isaac, get our children and take them home.
A: I’m - I’m going to clear up and then put Henry to bed.
S: I’ll go to him.
H: Ajay, don’t you want to talk about this-
A: No, not right now on my son’s birthday, I don’t.