high Tea

So I was lurking a Food Court the other day, and I overheard the following conversation.

[Tori walks in with no legs]
Tori: There’s colonel Dirtyfishydishcloth!
[Trent is sitting alone bleeding at a table by the window]
Trent: [Looks up] Hey! Lets go dancing on the backs of the brusied!
Tori: Yeah, when chickens get a taste of your meat. [browses the menu]Trent: My god is a shallow little bitch trying to make a scene.
Tori: You’re just trying to arouse my turquoise serpents! [orders some BBQ eel]
Trent: You’re going to get what you deserve.
Tori: I can look your god right in the eye.
Trent: My god is wrapped in cellophane.
Tori: Yeah, I have heard you pray before you devour her.
Trent: [chokes on his chorizo] ...try to speak as clearly as you can.
Tori: Tell me your crazy, maybe then I’ll understand.
Trent: [leans in] Nod your head, just incase. They could be watching.
Tori: You're a Starfucker, just like my daddy.
Trent: We're Starfuckers incorporated!
Tori: Like a flag on a popstar on a benzodiazepine.
Trent: [rhyming] My god pouts on the back of a magazine.
Tori: Honey, we’re recovering Christians! [orders two dirty martinis]
Trent: My god drives a limosine.
Tori: To Ghetto pimps and presidents!
Trent: You're the queen and I'm the king, nothing else means anything.
Tori: [they drink] Brown may be sweeter.
Trent: Perfect little dream, the kind that hurts the most.
Tori: [looks at watch] Maybe it's time to say goodbye?
Trent: Bad luck fist fuck. [he winks at Tori]


wtf?