Naw. I like to work for it myself. I ain't a house wife to no one.

[He considers saying no. But hey. The other wasn't asking to make out with him. Which reminds him. He wonders where John even is at the moment.

He puffs his chest out a little and lets out a familiar, yet foreign tune in a surprisingly gentle voice.]

My mother, she killed me,
My father, he ate me,
My sister Marlene,
Gathered all my bones,
Tied them in a silken scarf,
Laid them beneath the juniper tree,
Tweet, tweet, what a beautiful bird am I.