ET: Here's another fine mess you've gotten us into.
Me: What the hell are you hallucinating about now?
ET: You know exactly what I mean, jackass. You spent all day staring at a computer screen, half the night working on the kitchen table, and now you're staring at a computer screen again. What's wrong with you?
Me: Hey, I'm not the one who made the day only 24 hours long. Complain to the management. I just work here.
ET: Of course, if you quit farting around all the time, you'd get more done.
Me: And just when, pray tell, am I supposed to sleep?
ET: Sleep? I'm your subconscious, I never sleep! I am always awake, always aware, always on top of things, always...
ET: Don't piss me off, buddy, I'll go stay with Zod for a few days and pick up some pointers.
Me: God would not be so cruel to me.
ET: Don't make me start getting existentialist on your ass!
Me: Okay, that's it. Time for more caffeine. Or time to go to bed, take your pick. I pick . . . bed! Shut up, ET!
ET: Frag off.
Me: Great, now my subconscious is developing a British accent. Beats a French accent, I guess.