Clarissa: (Playing with teddy bear.) I love you, Buttercup! I wish you were real so we could go on adventures together.
Buttercup: I am real, Clarissa! Carry me to the backyard; an excursion awaits!
Buttercup waves a big stick in the air, speaking softly to himself.
Clarissa: Wow, a safari! I love animals!
Buttercup: Elephant is three hundred paces and closing. Fire, Clarissa, fire!
Buttercup and Clarissa board a ship and set sail for the west.
Buttercup: Stop crying, Clarissa. That’s enough ivory for a new comb!
Clarissa: Where are we now?
Buttercup: Panama. Now take this spade and get to digging. I would help, but my hands are but the thumbless paws of a stuffed animal.
Clarissa: I just saw a mosquito bigger than my face.
Buttercup: Please endeavor not to die of malaria.
Clarissa: Wait, who are those men riding horses towards us?
Buttercup: Ah, it must be those damnable Spaniards again. Here’s a rifle and a change of clothes; a nine-year-old girl’s pyjamas do not befit a Rough Rider.
Clarissa: All I can hear now are explosions and angry Spanish words. And the horrible sounds that man made after I shot him. And—Oh my god, Buttercup, you’re losing a lot of stuffing.
Buttercup: Those Spanish swine must have grazed me. Help me mend this seam and we’ll be off to kick the shit out of Woodrow Wilson in no time.