Someday Justin Bieber 2011 Eau de Parfum

Alice: Hey, thanks, darling, for coming over! I don’t even know where to start.
Tshajbukoshka: No problem at all. (hums, slightly smug in light of the huge piles of laundry and clutter towering in front of her) What are friends for, after all?
Narrator: And so they stand there, picking up one thing after another, sitting it down, putting it away, packing it up, trying it on, and this goes on for quite a while. A few glasses of wine help as well.
T: Ohaaaaaa. How cool is that? A mini vase made from vulvas? Is that one of your art projects?
A, confused: Excuse me, what?
E: Tshajbukoshka points with her pinky finger, extended from her wine glass, at a small bottle. At this point, one realizes she doesn’t have stereoscopic vision. Or does she really think there are such small vases?
A (is she embarrassed? outraged?): That’s perfume. That YOU don’t know it?
T: No, why? It doesn’t look like it’s from Guerlain (hastily moves with the wine glass in hand over a pile of clothes that nearly reaches her impressive height of almost one meter seventy).
E: What comes next is something at least one of the two present did not expect.
T: Urghs! Phew. Is it still guuuud? (coughs briefly)
A: Let me see. (Dramatically fans the air around her, her performance is almost Tshajbukoshka-worthy.) Can’t you smell that delicious compote and the pear that hovers over everything?
T: I probably should have asked differently. Was it EVER good? Let’s air it out. Otherwise, everything we pack will smell like this.
A: …
E: They don’t air it out. After a few minutes, Tshajbukoshka’s commotion settles down. In the meantime, her friend Alice has refilled her wine, the subtle way for ladies to say, “oh, just shut up.”
A: Smell it again. Floral-soft. Like when I meet up with friends? For university? I don’t want to use it for dates.
T: If you love your friends, you’ll keep that stuff away from them, including me. Your flowers are just as real as a bouquet made of Lego Technic - just unfortunately not pretty. Make a vase for daisies out of it or an art project.
A: No. Not from my Biebs. This is THE perfume of my youth!
T: Joaaaaah, then leave it there, in your youth. Why am I here again? CLEANING OUT, Signorina, we wanted to clean out. Off it goes to the “to give away” box. (Shaking her head, quietly, more to herself) Biebs. Oh dear, where have I ended up?
E: In a whimsical synthesizer performance of pop music.