We’re in this together, I feel like, you and I. Maybe the whole village, sure, it matters to everyone, but I feel like you and I see eye to eye. We could be the rhyming couplets of a poem, we complete each other’s sentences, we’re the yin and the yang — aren’t we all that?
Are we in balance or are we in opposition, though, you know? I mean, do we complete each other in a good warm-fuzzy way — “you make me wanna be a better woman,” right? — or is it opposites attracting here, good cop bad cop? Are we two peas in a pod, or are we peas and carrots? We know we’re on the same plate. We know that. But what’s it gonna be? You need to decide who you’re going to trust.
Listen, I’ll tell you how I see it. Lilly-Anne is pregnant, and Jerry Randy’s not the sperm-donor, and Mr. Bellis — well, listen, it’s clear to say we don’t know who the father is, he’s not from our village, I’ll promise you that, it could be some punk from the high school, but I think something different, and I’m gonna tell you why: immaculate conception. That’s right. Hear me out, cuz I ain’t crazy. Lilly-Anne is the daughter everyone wanted. She’s the sister everyone would want. That girl is pure, I’m telling you. And nothing but holy matrimony could get her pregnant. Child of God. From the womb of the pure. And I’ll tell you something else: she’s gonna be the mother everyone wants. Holy Mother, Lilly-Anne — look out, there’s a new trinity in town. Our village is gonna have a savior!