I've never really gotten behind the whole my Jesse or your Rachel thing. I mean, you're Jesse. Different than the one I was used to, yes, but there is only one person who would teach their pseudo-child an elaborate dance routine based on roller skates.
You know those science projects some people have, to teach them how to raise a child or to gauge how long it would take before someone unceremoniously broke whatever was being used as a stand-in for said child? When you were here before — or whatever — I had one with you. It was some kind of cosmic camp joke in general. And she hatched out at the end of it.
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[immediately stands, distracting himself by straightening some things out in the room.]
And anyway, it's not like I'm exactly your Jesse.
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Then in that case, she happens to be your pseudo-child as well, you know.
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She's what?
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I've been a terrible mother.
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Of course.
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I feel her pain.
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