Happiness. It's relative.
BowWow: I’m sick of being an outsider. It’s fucked up.
Minnie: We’re not really outsiders. We’re just outside.
BowWow: Yeah, sure, okay. So when we’re inside, will we be insiders? I don’t think so, amigo.
Minnie: You’re thinking there’s an ethnic dimension to our being outside?
BowWow: Oh Jesus, Minnie. How do you even fucking feed yourself? Can’t you figure anything out?
Minnie: What I figured out a long time ago is that we’re dogs. We’re actually a different species. Do you know what a species is, BowWow?
BowWow: I know it’s stupid and FAKE!
Minnie: Oh, BowWow. You’re spending too much time around a crazy man’s tweets. I saw you on her laptop. You need to stop.
BowWow: I can’t stop. I don’t want to miss anything. Have shit happen and not know about it. I NEED TO KNOW EVERYTHING!
Minnie: You can’t even read, BowWow!
BowWow: Reading isn’t everything, Minnie. You act like reading is some really huge fucking deal. Reading, shit. Just words.
Minnie: This conversation makes no sense. I do think you need to stop walking on her laptop. I saw you made 12 rows of A’s right in the middle of her essay. How do you think that makes her feel?
BowWow: Her? Feel? No clue. Not my monkeys. Not my circus.
Minnie: Oh, enough. On the count of three, bark like you saw a guy walk up the driveway.
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