We Need To Talk About Chaplin (But We Aren’t Going To)

Charlee: “Hey, so this real estate talk has been fascinating and all but where is Papa Smurf? I need to talk to him about my brother.”
Realtor Smurf: “You smurfed Azrael into the village?! Have you smurfed your mind? Azrael is our secondary mortal enemy!”
Producer Smurf: “This isn’t Azrael. This is Charlee. I smurf around her house.”
Realtor Smurf: “You smurf around with Azrael?! That’s a new low even for you, Producer Smurf!”

Producer Smurf: “She isn’t Azrael! Look, here’s a picture of Azrael. Smurf the difference?”
Realtor Smurf: “No, they smurf exactly the same!”
Producer Smurf: “You smurf a fluffy black and white cat smurfs exactly the same as a short-haired orange cat with a notched ear?”
Realtor Smurf: “Cats is cats!”
Charlee: “Why are you carrying around a picture of some other cat crumpled up in a ball under your smurf hat?”
Producer Smurf: “Smurf your own beeswax.”

Charlee: “Look, I’m not here to chase or pounce on any smurfs unless they run away so can you please direct us to Papa Smurf? I have a wizardry question for him.”
Realtor Smurf: “I’m sorry, Papa Smurf is on smurfcation in the Smurfhamas and is unavailable for wizardry consultations at the moment.”
Producer Smurf: “The Smurfhamas?! And how did he smurf the money to buy a ticket? By smurfing my house to a psyllium husk researcher, that’s how!”
Vermin: “HISSS! Hey, the back of that Azrael picture is autographed ‘To Producer Smurf, My Favorite Stan, Love Azrael’. I didn’t know your name was Stan!”