Clotho: Here’s the next thread.
Atropos: Where did that come from?
Clotho: Piggly Wiggly. They had a sale.
Atropos: It’s pretty ugly.
Clotho: Thread is thread, sister.
Lachesis: Well, hand it over. Boy. (Pause.) Boy. What do you think, girls?
Clotho: Peanut sheller?
Lachesis: Too ambitious.
Atropos: Crib death.
Clotho: You always say that.
Atropos: We could always make another Baldwin.
Lachesis: No more Baldwins! What is it with you and Baldwins?
Atropos: I just think they look funny.
Clotho: Oh, just throw him in a cubicle somewhere.
Atropos: I thought even “peanut sheller” was too ambitious.
Lachesis: It is.
Clotho: Okay, here you are.
Lachesis: Thanks. I’ll just feed him in right . . . here, I guess. That’s not too bad.
Atropos: Ugh. It sure is funny-looking that way . . .
Clotho: Well . . .
Atropos: I’m cutting him off.
Lachesis: Get out of here! Stop waving those fucking scissors around!
Atropos: Well, he’s not helping things!
Clotho: Come on, Atropos, look at the thread right over there. It’s that Caftan Person. Don’t start pretending to have standards now.
Lachesis: Really. What is that?
Atropos: An experiment. I don’t have to tell you.
Clotho: Well, this is all just very Perry Ellis, and I thought we were shooting for Armani here.
Lachesis: You’re the one who picked the thread. What is that other one, again?
Clotho (reading label): “Skot.”
Lachesis: What a dumb name.
Atropos: I have big plans for this one.