TICK is braiding her hair, humming Rawr.
JOHN: Why are you humming that?
TICK: Hmm?
JOHN: Why are you humming that―that disgrace instead of California Gurls?
TICK: What’s a gurl?
JOHN: Well, it’s like a mashup of girl and hurl. It really is quite obvious. I’m almost surprised you couldn’t figure that out on your own.
TICK shrugs lazily.
JOHN: And no one knows what Cali―
TICK (angry): I didn’t ask you what California is. I know what it is, anyway.
JOHN: (jaw drops) You―you know what California is?
TICK: (Shrugs. Says nonchalantly while unbraiding her hair) Yes. That’s what I just said. It’s an area of land, called a state, in another country in an alternate universe where the writer of the song is from.
JOHN doesn’t believe her and walks away, shaking his head in an attempt to remove this insanity
TICK braids her hair again
TOCK enters and stands silently in the doorway for fourteen minutes and 32 seconds before leaving again.
TICK is unbraiding her hair when she hears a doorbell. She opens it and calls over her shoulder
TICK: Quinn! It’s for you!
QUINN walks in and yelps
QUINN: Yelp
An army of bread sandwich ghosts led by BREAD SNADWHICH III converge on QUINN and he is never seen from again
~~~~END
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