Shout-outs to alliterator, vengeful iago, and smrou, you Dickens scholars, you.
Joan and Adam are walking outside and Joan is boring Adam with some goofy dream she had about them in danger hanging off a cliff, and she turns into a bird and he turns into a dog. He's still wearing his hoodie. She wonders what he thinks it means, but Adam's on some other planet, and apologizes, saying he's wiped, having stayed up all night to finish an English paper. Joan: "Oh crap, is that due today?" Adam says he had to do his early since he has an interview at RISD (pronounced "riz-dee") on Saturday morning. Joan: "'Riz-dee'? That sounds like a pirate disease." Adam says it's Rhode Island School of Design: "It's one of the best art schools in the country." Joan demands to know why he didn't tell her about it. Adam figured it would be boring. Joan: "No way! We could walk a whole state in a couple of hours." Which is just the sort of thing Joan always gets excited about? Whatever. Adam stops, and asks Joan if he really thinks her mother's going to let her spend another night alone with him. Joan says nothing. He wants to drop his English paper off before physics class, so he kisses her and takes off. She immediately bumps right into Goth God, and demands to know why she turned Adam into a dog. Because you've been socialized into all kinds of maladaptive feminine behaviours by your screwed-up culture? Oh, you meant in the dream. She continues, "Is it because he's faithful and loyal, or because he just ran off?" Goth God sighs: "Sometimes a dog is just a dog." Someone runs by Joan and slaps her on the back, as if she's suddenly caught in the middle of a football game. Joan asks God to "exert a little control over [his] creations." Goth God: "Flocks of birds, packs of dogs, you know people. Once they gather, things happen. I don't interfere. It's part of the rules." Joan sees that a bunch of guys are egging Price's car. She chortles. They finish and run off, lobbing a carton at a garbage can and not quite making it. A couple of eggs splatter next to the bin. Goth God: "That's a mess. Someone could slip and get hurt." Joan smiles and pats his arm: "I get it." She happily goes over to start picking up the carton and two eggs at which point, of course, she hears the angry voice of Mr. Price barking her name behind her. Goth God walks off with a Godwave she doesn't see. She turns around, trying to tell him it's not what it looks like. God doesn't interfere, eh? I'd say, "God help me if God decided to meddle in my life" if that weren't so problematically convoluted.