(A little girl around seven or eight years old comes into our store. She has a pastel pink unicorn plushie, identical to one we carry. She’s holding it and stroking it like a Bond villain with a cat. The display with these plushies is near the front door, and she walks straight to it.)

Girl: *normal little-girl voice* “Look, Rufus, it’s your cousins. Say hi!” *deep, gravelly voice* “Rufus cares not for these peasants. They shall burn with the other heretics. Away, vassal, to the candy aisle, where we shall feast upon the blood of the sugar cane plant!” *normal little-girl voice* “As you wish, Rufus.”

(She skips away cheerfully.)

Me: “…?”