The Average Household
“Liebchen!” cried Herman Goebbels as he thumbed endlessly at the channel up button on the tv remote. “Get me another beer!”
“Alright already!” shouted Joan of Arc from the kitchen, where she was cooking a giant mutated terrapin. “Keep your balls on, I’m comin'”
“And put it in a regular glass this time. I’m sick of drinking out of Der Holy Grail all the time!”
Suddenly the doorbell rang. Goebbels walked over, trying not to put too much weight on his bad leg, and opened the door. Norman Mailer was stood outside, holding a parcel.
“Special delivery,” he said with a contemptuous sneer. “Gonna need a signature.”
Goebbels signed for the parcel, then as soon as it was in his hands he shut the door and hobbled back to the armchair.
“Wazzat?” said Joan of Arc as she came into the room with a beer, squinting at the parcel through the smoke from the cigarette that was perched at the corner of her mouth.
“Ach! It is der last season of Breaking Bad!” he exclaimed after he had ripped of the packaging. “I love that show!”