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"I'm not a slob!" he said in a whine-y voice.

I never said you were a slob, I said you're a doofus.

... Okay, maybe you're a bit of a slob as well. Good thinking, Bibi.

"HWAH-??!" he squinted slightly "....what if I am both things anyway...wh-..why are you telling me this?" Bursting up from the chair he was sitting on, he slammed his head right into the ceiling lamp.

Remember when I said I had sources and I only named two points? You just gave me a third.

...

(Are you okay, though? Knocking your head into lamps four times a week can't be good.)

He just silently stood there with the lampshade on his head. "...I'm perfectly fine...since... I'm a doofus."

Finally, we come to an agreement in this house.

By the way, I'll be using those words as a means of blackmailing in some future. Thanks.

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