Purvis: Buh, 'ey there, (name). Think ya could help me wit' somethin' else?

That depends. What do you need help with, Purvis?

P: Well... duh... garsh. Have ya... have ya met Rubella? She's so purty. Every time I try to talk to 'er I get so ner... nerv... I can't talk good. I wrote 'er a poem... but I'm too skeered to read it to 'er. Would ya read it to 'er fer me?

>> Uhm... sure. Tell me the poem and I'll go tell it to her.

P: Dur... okay. Roses is red, mooers go MOO! Purvis is a fella and he likes Rubella.

That's... a nice peom. I'll go tell it to Rubella immediately.

P: Garsh, thanks a lot, (name)! I hopen she likes it.

(go to Rubella)

R: Hey again, sugar. What can I do for ya?

>>What do you think of Purvis?

R: Honestly, I try not to. I think the poor boy has a little thing for me but I need someone a bit more... intellectual.

Intellectual? Like a poet?

R: Yes! Oooh! A poet would be great!

It just so happens that Purvis wrote a poem for you. Would you like to hear it?

R: Purvis? A poem? Uhg! That boy is a little slow on the uptake. I've tried subtly letting him know that I'm not interested but he just doesn't seem to get the message.

Oh, come on, he's a nice guy. Can't you give him a chance?

R: Well... he is nice. Okay, read me his poem.

>>You are my shining star, you are my heart and soul. Without you I am nothing, but with you I am whole.

R: Purvis wrote that? About me? Maybe I was wrong about him. Tell him I think his poem is great. He should write another.

(return to Purvis)

P: Dur... did ya talk to Rubella? Did she like my poems?

Er... yeah. I read her a poem. She loved it! She wants you to write her another.

P: Garsh! Poems is hard to write. Pa's good at thing'... mebbe he knows a power fer Rubella?

I can go ask him if you like.

P: Buh duh... yeah! Pa'll help!

(talk to bill)

B: 'owdy! I weren't 'spectin' ya back so soon.

Bill... Purvis needs your advice with Rubella.

B: What? That dang boy. I tol' 'im to stop chasin' that girl like a lost puppy. My garlic done 'opped outta the groun' and took off. I got a vampire overlookin' my ranch and no garlic to fight 'im off! I don't got n'time fer girls and poems.

Did you say a vampire?

B: Why d'ya think I grow garlic? Because I like the smell? I'm a rancher, not a farmer. The garlic is fer protection!

So now you have no protection.

B: Well, I did lock the gate to the graveyard... but that won't keep 'em out forever. Dangit! I wish I could git ma garlic back in the groun'.

>>Maybe I could help?

B: Yee-aw! Ya could at that! Jus' grab a bunch, makem stop squirmin', and stick 'em back int he groun'. They's all aroun' the ranch, especially in the woods to the north.

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