"It'll never work," Jane declared, holding a can of silver spray-paint in one hand and a banjo in the other.
"Sure it will! Where's your sense of adventure?" her boyfriend, Tony, said with a shit-eating grin.
"My sense of adventure died when we tried to make sriracha horseradish in the shed."
"A small mistake - I'm an inventor, a risk-taker, an entrepreneur!"
"A small mistake! The city brought in a hazmat team!"
"What about the time you melted the driveway? Jane countered.
"So we're not blessed with luck," Tony admitted in partial defeat. "But that doesn't mean we get to give up! I don't want to be flipping burgers forever. I know how you feel about being a cashier. This'll work - I promise."
The two eyed each other for a fair bit as a small battle of wills ensued. At no point did a modification of position or compromise of vision enter either of their heads; it was all or nothing.
Tony broke the stalemate by reaching for the banjo.
"If we don't do it together, I'll find someone else to help."
"Who else do you think is going to put up with you?"
"Victor will!"
"Victor? Victor who you turned into a smurf for two weeks while the blue dye worked its way out of his system?"
"Marty?"
"Is still on crutches."
"Mark?"
"The man who once had a living hamster?"
"Fine! Fine." Tony bellowed, defeated. "But I still think 'Silver Surfer Don Ho Human Statue' could really be a million dollar idea!"
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