Sep: What was up with the creepy plastic demons?
Ace: Creepy.
Sep: Snerk. Thanks. I was worried I was missing the metaphor for ennui in the twenty-first century or something.
Ace: Alienation of the common man in the workplace, perhaps? Nope. Just creepy.

Dawn wakes up on a pool table, dressed in a blue sleeveless turtleneck with black capri pants and ballet slippers. Someone told me that the outfit hearkens back to another musical but since in the history of the universe the only musical I care about is this one, I kind of forgot what they were talking about. ["West Side Story? It would seem to match, outfit-wise. But that's the only musical I know besides Grease, so I'll shut up now." -- Sars] Dawn points her toes in fear or something and starts doing this, uh, dance. She tries to get away, but the Super Minonettes grab her and spin her around and stuff until she finally slides all the way across the floor to the edge of the stage, where some two-tone wingtips and bright red pants are waiting for her.