St. Fugmo's Fire

DEMI: All right, everyone, this is it.

RUMER: Whatever.

ASHTON: Hey, chill, pretty baby. Be fly like a hep cat.

RUMER: I just can't believe YOU got to wear the hat. The hat is MY THING.

DEMI: God, stand UP straight, Rumer! Miss Golden Globe does not slouch.

RUMER: Well, fine, THANKS FOR THAT, 'cause I never got to BE Miss Golden Globe, remember?

DEMI: Then you will damn well use the dress I bought you tonight and smile and look interested for a change. Will it kill you?

RUMER: I AM NOT YOUR ACCESSORY.

ASHTON: Chill, honey-mama, all this arguing is making my face-lace twitch. Let the spawn do her thing and we'll catch her on the flip-side, dig?

DEMI: And what the hell is up with you in that zoot suit? What is that stupid scarf?

ASHTON: I think the word you're looking for is "snazzy," baby.

DEMI: God, all I wanted was an old-school glamorous night on the town. NOTHING WORKS OUT FOR ME.

RUMER: WELCOME TO MY LIFE!

ASHTON: You broads are churning my bread basket. I need some giggle water.