#maxkyle

Maxine: Hey, Kyle. Oh, Kyle. Your wife was here, man. But don’t worry. I covered for you. Don’t even thank me. Kyle: Come on, baby. Rebecca: What was that all about? Kyle: Look, she’s lyin’ because she's evil. She doesn’t even live here. Rebecca: Then why did she just walk into that apartment? Kyle: Oh, o-okay, okay, okay. Look, this is what it is— Rebecca: Uh, shh. Explain it to your wife. Maxine: She bought that? She is so easy. Kyle: I know.

Maxine: I've got a meeting to go over some documents tonight, so Kyla should just stay at your place. Kyle: Ohh. I'm always delighted to spend time with my seed, my little cherub, my progeny. Maxine: You never could just keep it simple. Kyla: Dad, I'm gonna need two hours of play time before homework, some chocolate chip cookies, and a 15% increase in my living expenses. And that's not negotiable. There better be some fresh donuts on that snack table.

Kyle: Max, why do we keep going at each other like this? Maxine: It's some sort of twisted compulsion. You know, you're like a carton of month old milk. You know it's bad, but you just have to smell it.