(quietly muttering to himself as he falls to sleep during a rainstorm)
RJ: All those oats… Falling, falling down… burning oats falling down.
RJ: The gods are angry and they’ve opened the oats and now they throw them down…
RJ: Tomorrow, its going to be a big mess… Oatmeal everywhere.
(during breakfast)
RJ: Braaaaains…. Braaaains… I … need … brains…
Dad: Have you checked your sister? She might have some to spare.
RJ: (turning to LR) Braaaains?
LR: Sorry RJ. I need all my brains.
RJ: Braaaains…
Dad: How about the dog? Actually, forget that. She doesn’t have any brains.
LR: (protesting) Yes she does!!!
RJ: Braaaains…
Mum: Here you go RJ. Porridge for us, and a big fresh bowl of brains for you.
RJ: Thank you mummie zombie.
Mum: You’re welcome little zombie.
