Scene: watching the Olympics at the Happy Kitten Highrise

[Pixie and Guy sit in front of the TV, watching Olympic swimming]

Pixie: I wish they'd show them from below. I want to see what their feet are doing.
Guy: They're kicking. [turns back to online poker game]
Pixie: Well, yeah, but how? And how fast?
[shot on TV flips to awesome below-water camera looking up at swimmers]
Pixie: [leaping forward on sofa] Holy flurking snit! They're kicking!
Guy: What do you mean, they...I told you they're kicking!
Pixie: Yeah, but...! [arms in air, feet sticking out from edge of sofa] They're kicking like it's going out of style!
[Pixie's feet kick quickly and hands go one over the other as Guy looks at her, then the TV, then Pixie again]
Guy: Wha...[starts to laugh] Pix, what the hell are you doing?
Pixie: I'm trying to figure out how they're timing their kicks with their hands! See, when I swim, I kick at the same speed as my hands and arms go into the water, but they look like they're kicking at twice the speed that their arms are going in the water! Holy shit!
Guy: [looks at TV, at Pixie, at TV, at Pixie, starts outright laughing] Well...yeah! They--what are you doing?!
Pixie: I'm practicing my swimming! I can swim like Michael Phelps! Look!!
Guy: [turning back to computer] You're not swimming like Michael Phelps.
Pixie: [sighs, collapses against the sofa] I know, I'm never going pro. And when I watch the Olympics, I realize that even though I work out like every day, I'm really out of shape.
Guy: See, I gave up ever going pro when I got out of the Army in 1990. I knew I was done with the pushups and running bullshit.
Pixie: [watching TV intently] Could I ever really excel at any sport? Could I be like a pro or semi-pro runner?
Guy: Uh-uh. You're too short and stocky, and you got big hooters. You won't see any big hooters in the Olympics.
Pixie: Hmph. [takes sip of sweet tea] What about swimming? I have big shoulders.
Guy: Aaaaand you're half the height of the average swimmer. [glances at disgruntled midget wife on sofa] Look, you're just not built to do any Olympic sports. I mean, you're in really good shape, better than like 90-95% of people in the U.S., but you're just not built to be an elite athlete.
Pixie: Again, hmph, I say to you. [frowns on sofa, idly pets Maddy, who has been meowing for treats through the entire conversation, and indeed, the entire Olympics]
Guy: You could medal in tunnel racing.
Pixie: [brightens] Tunnel racing?! What's that?
Guy: [hunkers down and moves arms back and forth] It's running through tunnels, and they're really low, so you'd be great at it! [cute voice] You'd kick ass, guy!
Pixie: [glares at Guy]
Guy: [hunkers, pretend runs] Tunnel racing! [hunkers and runs again] Tunnel racing?
[Pixie throws a pillow at Guy, starts laughing]