Ella: Are we moving?

Van: Hard to tell. Did you press the button?

Ella: I think so.

Van: You don’t remember?

Ella: You might have distracted me.

Van: How so? My suave aftershave? My magnificent manliness?

Ella: Ha, ha. No, your triple, or is it quadruple scoop cone.

Van: I happen to like ice cream.

Ella: So it seems. Do you always get vanilla?

Van: I prefer it.

Ella: Kind of a cliché, though, isn’t it?

Van: How so?

Ella: You know.

Van: No, I don’t. Please enlighten me.

Ella: Black man, white pussy.

Van: Ah.

Ella: Does that mean it’s true?

Van: As a matter of fact.

Ella: Ah.

Van: So does your choice of chocolate indicate...

Ella: White girl, black cock?

Van: And the answer is...

Ella: As a matter of fact, as they say.

Van: Mine, you might be interested, is considerably bigger than that kiddie scoop.

Ella: How do you know I haven’t pigged it all down?

Van: Good point.

Ella: So are you going to push the button? To make up for my possible lapse.

Van: I suppose I should.

Ella: Otherwise we might be here all day. Or forever. Whichever comes first.

Van: Would that be so bad?

Ella: We might get bored. Once the ice cream runs out.

Van: We’d have to talk about something else, I suppose. Like how come you’re barefoot.

Ella: Or what’s with those slippers?

Van: You don’t like them?

Ella: They’re probably very quiet.

Van: For skulking purposes.

Ella: So you skulk?

Van: Only when the need arises.

Ella: Speaking of arising.

Van: Yeah, I suppose I should push the button. To make up for your neglect. Do you want to go up or down?

Ella: I kind of like going down.

Van: Me too.

Ella: I figured you for the getting high kinda guy.

Van: Decisions, decisions. But I do have a concern.

Ella: Oh?

Van: Did you notice the poster? The happy hour thing on the wall behind you. That it seems to be upside down.

Ella: Probably a glitch. Either that or we’re standing on the elevator ceiling.

Van: Hey, I like that idea.

Ella: It means we could go up and down at once.

Van: Yeah. Let’s.