Hotel Transylvania, Tuesday Evening
"Hey, Dad! So, not that I'm worried or anything because what could ever happen to you, right? But it's been more than a week since you made your last 'Not that I'm worried or anything, but the hotel's not on fire, right?' call, so -- PUT THAT OUT. RIGHT. THIS. INSTANT. Um, the hotel's not on fire, by the way. Anymore. So, um, I was just checking in, you know? Nothing's wrong here-- I SAID NO. NEXT TO THE SLIME-PIT? WHAT WERE YOU EVEN THINKING? --at all, just making sure everything's okay there.
Unless this is supposed to be a test? Were you testing how long I can go on my own without having to yell for help? 'Cause I don't need h-- Ma'am, I'm on the phone, but if you'll step over to that boogeyman in the red jacket, he'll be happy to show your children to the night-care center. No, ma'am, he's vegan; he doesn't eat kids unless they're not made of meat -- sorry, Dad. So anyway, give me a call back when you can. Unless this is a test. In which case -- seriously, Uncle Frank? That's not even a humanoid foot -- everything's perfect. Really! Love you! Bye!"
[Establishy, but open for calls if anyone involved wants to apprise her of Drac's BDE experience. Warning ahead of time that I'm unfortunately sick as the proverbial dog, though, so pings are likely to be few and far between.]