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.