Janet: [In the living room] I made some apple crisp if you want to eat some!
Robyn: [Me, in my room] Oh yay! Thanks!
J: It's not great. I forgot to add flour, so it's watery.
[Both go into kitchen, inspect crisp]
J: Yeah, it's...loose.
R: [Picks apple chunks out of baking dish] Loose apples. [Eats chunks.] Hot loose apples. Hehe. "New and Improved Hot Loose Apples." Mmm.
J: That sounds terrible.
R: It's like something from Arrested D—
J: It's like hot ham water.
[Enter bout of laughter/expressions of mirth]
R: I like the crunchy bits. Oat bits. Oat chunks. It's like an add-on.
J: "Oat Chunks—for an extra 50 cents."
R: Hot loose apples. And apple stew. With optional oat chunks.
J: It's like the saddest dessert menu.
R: Hot loose apples...in their own juices.
J: "Loose" just sounds so wrong.
R: Yeah, you don't really describe food as "loose." ...Like beef stew. That's like...
[In unison] Loose beef.
R: How about, "Thick loose beef in its own juices"?
[In unison] Euuuh.
R: Well, I'll keep eating this—it's fruit. Apples have vitamins, right?
J: Ehh, I don't know about these, they've been sitting in the fridge for a long time. Aged apples might not have any nutrients left in 'em.
R: ...Aged...hot...loose apples.
[In unison] Eeeeeuh.
The following night in the kitchen...
J: I ate the loose apples for breakfast today. Cold, with yogurt.
R: That's such a good idea! That totally works. Cold loose apples. "Loose Apples: Good Night or Day."
J: "Dress It Up, or Dress It Down."
R: I don't know when I'll have another idea as good as "loose apples" again.