(gentle music) - Some cheese, miss?
- Yes, please, thank you. - Great.
Just tell me when to stop. - Yeah.
(playful music increases in intensity)
- I'll tell you when I want you to stop.
- Okay. (fun music)
- It's you.
- Ooh, you guys want pizza for lunch?
- Yes. - Okay.
- Oh, I can't have pizza; I'm lactose intolerant.
(cries out in alarm)
- (groans) That smells awful.
- Yeah, that's how you know it's good.
- You really put cheese on everything, don't you?
- Yeah. (dramatic classical music)
- Is that cheese on cheese? (fun music)
- Can I add cheese to that?
Can I add cheese to that?
- [Man] And would you like cheese with that?
- (laughs) Jake, you crazy boy.
Do I want cheese with that, you crazy.
See you at pick up!
- I think I'm gonna name my first daughter Brie.
- You think I can name my kid Manchego?
- Yes. - Yeah.
- Yeah. - That's a cool name.
- Can I get you anything?
- What kind of cheese do you have?
- So, Miss Brunson, you are in excellent health.
- Oh, thank goodness. - Oh, and we also found
the source of your stomach issues.
- Okay, what is it?
- Did you know you were lactose intolerant?
(dramatic music)
Your blood has a deficiency in lactase--
- No. - Which is the enzyme--
- No, no, no, no, no. - That allows you
to digest dairy. - No!
No, no, no!
Cheese, cheese, cheese, cheese, where's the cheese?
(screams)
(gasping)
- What is it, Quinta? - I just had the worst dream.
It started off so relatable. (fun music)
- What is this? - Cheese.
- What? - You said you wanted cheese.
- The fuck is this? - You said you wanted cheese!
- Kraft singles?
What do you think I am, 12 years old?
Are you kidding me? - It's cheese!
- How dare you disgrace me with the cheese of a peasant?
Get out, get out!
This is not my apartment.