"OK, we could go for

the heavy metaphor here,
and then zing 'em with the
ironic ending."
His partner tore up the sheet
in disgust.
"Well, how about a neo-romantic
sort of thing, you know,
tra-la tra-la isn't it
a nice freaking day,
something like that?"
The partner spat and looked at him
contemptuously.
"Well, we could always do stream of
consciousness, just start stringing
together watermelon fish head basketball
sneakers, you know, that very
chichi kind of crap."
The partner laughed and then
reached out
and smacked him in the forehead.
"Uh, how about limericks? They're
always fun."
The partner then took out a gun
and shot him.
Bleeding but undaunted, he said
(while on the floor)
"Yeah, you're right. We shouldn't
do blue stuff."
And the night continued.