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Storm: Do
you ever wish you were really good-looking?
Tricia:
You mean, instead of just being ungodly hot?
Storm: Uh...
whatever.
Tricia:
You do wonders for a person's ego, you know?
Storm: I
do?
Tricia:
Absolutely. As long as that person is yourself. Anyway, what's your point?
Storm:
It's really hard sometimes.
Tricia: Being perfect, you mean?
Storm:
Right.
Tricia:
God's gift?
Storm:
Exactly.
Tricia:
How ever do you bear the weight?
Storm: Oh,
I work out.
Tricia:
Funny, I would never have guessed.
Storm:
Hey!
Tricia:
You really do think you're perfect, don't you?
Storm: I
know it sounds arrogant.
Tricia: Oh
no, not a bit.
Storm: You
don't think so?
Tricia:
Not at all. In fact, it's endearing.
Storm: It
is?
Tricia:
Sure. For someone to think they're perfect when they have this great big zit...
Storm:
Zit? Where?
Tricia:
Where? Did you look in a mirror this morning?
Storm:
You're kidding, right?
Tricia:
Silly me. - And you didn't see that?
Storm: No!
Tricia:
It's not like you'd notice it on a normal person.
Storm:
Normal? Who cares about normal people?
Tricia:
But we're talking perfection here.
Storm:
Exactly.
Tricia:
It's like finding a scratch on the Mona Lisa.
Storm:
Unthinkable.
Tricia: A
desecration. I mean, you're held to a higher standard.
Storm: Oh
my God! I've got to get to a mirror!
Tricia:
There's one in the back.
(Storm exits
to the back. Tricia dials the phone.)
Tricia: Hi
Mom. You know that book you gave me on the power of suggestion? I think it's
working. (Storm screams.) I just got someone to see something that isn't
there.
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