Previously, Bob was on a luxury cruise liner with Emily, his wife. On that cruise, they met two ponies named Burt, and Mildred.
Burt: You know what I like to get all the time?
Bob: Potatoes?
Burt: No, that's the Irish. I like to get the salad.
Mildred: And I get steak.
Burt: Maybe, this time you should have the salada with me mum.
Emily: salada sounds nice.
Bob: I have to agree with Mildred, the bife sounds good.
Waiter: May I take your orders.
Burt: Me, and mum will have a salad.
Mildred: Don't be daft Burt, I can order for myself. Let me have a steak.
Waiter: Okay. *Writing down orders* And for the rest of you?
Bob: Steak.
Emily: Salad.
Waiter: Okay. What kind of dressing would you like for the salads.
Burt: Ranch.
Emily: French.
Waiter: Coming right up. *Goes to kitchen*
Burt: Why didn't you get the salad?
Mildred: I told you, I could order my own food!
Bob: Hey, there's no need to shout.
Mildred: Sorry Bobby.
Bob: Please, just call me Bob.
Burt: So, what you do you two do?
Bob: I'm a therapist.
Burt: A rapist?
Bob: No, I said therapist.
Emily: I work on advertising.
Bob: So, what about-
Burt: You know something? I'm sorry to say this, but I hate therapists. They're always telling ponies that they have this problem, and how to solve them.
Bob: Actually Burt, the ponies that come to visit a therapist tell them their problem. Not the other way around.
Burt: But you always tell them how to solve it.
Bob: Because they want help.
Burt: I just hate therapy in general.
Emily: oi look, the band is here.
The band shows up on stage, and is playing a song: link
Mildred: Oh, I amor this song.
Bob: Me too. Emily, do you want to dance while we wait for our food?
Emily: Sure.
Mildred: I want to dance too.
Burt: I don't. You go ahead, and dance. We'll let the waiter know where you are.
Bob: Well, thanks. *Goes to dancing floor*
Emily: *Follows Bob*
While Bob, and Emily were dancing, Mildred seemed sad. She left the table.
Burt: Where do you think you're going?
Mildred: For a walk. I need some fresh air.
Burt: Oh, fine.
Mildred: *Goes for walk*
2 B continued
Burt: You know what I like to get all the time?
Bob: Potatoes?
Burt: No, that's the Irish. I like to get the salad.
Mildred: And I get steak.
Burt: Maybe, this time you should have the salada with me mum.
Emily: salada sounds nice.
Bob: I have to agree with Mildred, the bife sounds good.
Waiter: May I take your orders.
Burt: Me, and mum will have a salad.
Mildred: Don't be daft Burt, I can order for myself. Let me have a steak.
Waiter: Okay. *Writing down orders* And for the rest of you?
Bob: Steak.
Emily: Salad.
Waiter: Okay. What kind of dressing would you like for the salads.
Burt: Ranch.
Emily: French.
Waiter: Coming right up. *Goes to kitchen*
Burt: Why didn't you get the salad?
Mildred: I told you, I could order my own food!
Bob: Hey, there's no need to shout.
Mildred: Sorry Bobby.
Bob: Please, just call me Bob.
Burt: So, what you do you two do?
Bob: I'm a therapist.
Burt: A rapist?
Bob: No, I said therapist.
Emily: I work on advertising.
Bob: So, what about-
Burt: You know something? I'm sorry to say this, but I hate therapists. They're always telling ponies that they have this problem, and how to solve them.
Bob: Actually Burt, the ponies that come to visit a therapist tell them their problem. Not the other way around.
Burt: But you always tell them how to solve it.
Bob: Because they want help.
Burt: I just hate therapy in general.
Emily: oi look, the band is here.
The band shows up on stage, and is playing a song: link
Mildred: Oh, I amor this song.
Bob: Me too. Emily, do you want to dance while we wait for our food?
Emily: Sure.
Mildred: I want to dance too.
Burt: I don't. You go ahead, and dance. We'll let the waiter know where you are.
Bob: Well, thanks. *Goes to dancing floor*
Emily: *Follows Bob*
While Bob, and Emily were dancing, Mildred seemed sad. She left the table.
Burt: Where do you think you're going?
Mildred: For a walk. I need some fresh air.
Burt: Oh, fine.
Mildred: *Goes for walk*
2 B continued