"I'll tell you what you are: you are the mold on the cheese which is my day."
"Just what is that supposed to mean?"
"It means that I was on my way to having a great day. A perfect day. A delicious, Dagwood of a day and you ruined it with your moldy cheese."
"I'm not sure I understand--"
"--Of course you don't. Because you're thick. Like butter."
"I thought I was like cheese?"
"Idiot. You're not food to me, I said it twice already -- you're a blot of mold in my eyes. And how dare you accuse me of figurative cannibalism?"
"I don't like it when you speak in metaphors."
"Of course you don't. I don't think you understand that I loathe your presence. You are my bane."
"I don't know what that means."