Major Burns, You Owe Me a Helicopter

Excerpts from conversations after arriving home last night at 8:10 (or, in the words of half the bus, "eight-freaking-ten"):

"Yes, Mom, I'm back. Just got in . . . no, it's fine, just turned my phone back on--thanks for checking in . . . no, only a little beat up . . . yes, I'm going dancing tonight--it's Friday. I was just getting in the shower now . . . no, not that stinky anymore--I did shower last night . . . just want to spackle my face and look like a woman again . . . holy cow, where did that bruise come from?. . . ."

"Hey, baby, I've missed you."
"I've missed you, too."
"What happened to your wrist?"
"Oh, um, well, they zip-tied me. And it was already kinda scraped from hiding in the woods in the dark from the guys chasing us with M-16s. It's okay, really. It only hurts when something touches it. Baby, is everything alright?"
"That was not the answer I was expecting."

"Are you coming to IHOP after?"
"Yeah, I've been eating MREs for two weeks. I could use something that hasn't been in a package for ten years."
"They don't make Hawaiian pancake MREs?"
"Please don't give them any ideas."

"You were doing what again?"
"Wait--I have pictures. My camera's in my purse . . . hold on . . . here."
"What did they do to you?"
"Fragmentation wound to the right cheek with facial bone fractures. Here, I'll zoom in."
"It healed so well."
"Yeah, mostly. There's still a bruise. Here, let me show you one of Jaime."
"Her eyeball's hanging out."
"But look how happy she is playing cards."