In Tiffany's dressing room,
Adam has set up an ornate yet
tasteful portable folding screen confessional. Adam stands
mesmerized, stock still. Vampirella snaps her fingers. Adam awakens from
a trance, to somberly
take Tiffany's confession: "Well, pussy's gotta
breath!" declares Tiffany, airily..
"Do not be lewd and facetious here
before the Lord." rebukes Adam. "Father, I am a germophobe."
"My child, I am not here as a doctor of
medicine." "I never wear panties. That's just
how I've always been." "Naturally." Adam
pauses in reverie:
"How naive and innocent were those days when bra burning was so
marvelously scandalous!" "You miss my point,
Father: I simply cannot abide to cover my twat.
Not since my first yeast infection as a high
school cheerleader." "Go ahead. Do your
worst to try to shock me. I'm used to it." "This is no laughing
matter, Father!" "Oh, it's lewd and hilarious: You suffer
overwhelming and even painfully intense arousal at the slightest tactile
provocation. But it helps blot out all the heartache. And exhibitionism
feeds your need to be the center of attention. Anything you tell me, however humiliating
or preposterous, is
protected under the seal of the confessional. Share your emotional
truth: What weighs upon your
soul, my child?"
- Neither Adam nor Tiffany perceive Vampirella,
in the room looming over them.