Edna: Margie, Halloween is on Friday, we'd better get cracking if we're going to put together our costumes! Have you thought about what you're going to be?
Margie: Not that it's any of your business, Edna, but I may be a French maid or a Playboy bunny. I'm trying to decide which one the gentlemen would like.
Margie: What will you be, Edna? A witch?
Edna: Kiss my tushie, Margie. You know, something tells me that what the gentlemen won't like is if you dress up as either of those things. On Halloween, you're supposed to dress up like something you're normally not! I know, maybe you should go as a decent, modest, respectable woman.
I actually haven't decided on my costume yet. I was looking through some of Mama's old trunks up in the attic, I thought I might go as a flapper if I can find one of Mama's old dresses that the moths haven't destroyed.
Margie: You're already a flapper, Edna. You flap your gums from sunup to sundown. Why don't you be something you're normally not? Like a nun?
I could sew your lips together and wrap you up like a mummy. I like that idea.
Edna: You come near me with a sewing needle, and it will be the last thing you ever do. You hear me?
Margie: That's an idea! I'm dressing up like you. Wait until the gentlemen whisper some of your secrets in my ear.
Edna: Margie, that would be a trick that surely wouldn't get you any treats. Nobody knows my secrets, and you can take that to the bank, you jealous hussy.
Margie: But, Edna, I don't want to dress up as a bank teller. What are you talking about anyway?
Edna: Oh good grief. I'll be up in the attic, you come get me when you figure it out.
Margie: Get your bloomers out of a wad while you're there.
