“So…while we’re sitting here on this luxury yacht enjoying our bread and water, why doesn’t someone tell me the plan?”

“The car doesn’t so much drive as float above the road, like we’re making our way to Sydney in a hovercraft.”

“Didn’t you read the invitation? There’s going to be a game in a little while--the big Twister game in an hour. Make sure you eat plenty of bread.”

“You can donate marrow for her, Alice Faye, you can’t cure her. You can win a poker tournament, but that won’t make her want to live. So I’ll ask you again: Who are you, and what are you doing here? Because Munny sure doesn’t want you to be her, and she wants someone to be out in the world living since she’s got the market cornered on dying right now.”

“As you know, the International Poker Tour, by its own admission, knows very little about poker games, one of which ended tragically last week when an IPT-sanctioned tournament aboard a yacht in Australia accidentally used tarot cards instead of playing cards. That’s right, it’s true! Apparently no one noticed until someone laid down a full house and the dealer died.”

“Well, I think I speak for everyone when I say that 'Alice Faye picked a peck of pepper for the poor, piping pig in the purple poke.' Wait—is that not what we’re talking about here?”

“Just keep it simple, Alice Faye. Remember how you taught yourself. Nothing’s different just because you’re on a yacht, or wearing a fancy dress. Or because you appear to have dropped acid and are now in the mirror room at the fun house.”