Betsey is trying to sleep when Andrew appears at the foot of her bed.
Betsey: What is it this time?
Andrew: I want a story about being fed to a tiger.
Betsey: [rolls eyes, sighs heavily, and pulls covers back over head]
Andrew: [immediately ripping covers off] Hey! Listen to me!
Betsey: What do you want?!
Andrew: [stomps foot insistently] I said I wanna be fed to a tiger! Now!
Betsey: I don’t want to write a story about feeding you to a tiger, Andrew. You’re too useful to me.
Andrew: Exactly. I’ll just transform into something specific for the story and regenerate myself again at the end.
Betsey: And what, pray tell, are you wanting to turn into this time?
Andrew: I’m gonna be… a piece of meat.
Andrew immediately transforms himself into a steak and starts talking. Betsey stares at the bizarre cartoon-steak-with-eyes hallucination at the end of her bed in a mix of curiosity and confusion.
Andrew: Look at me.
Andrew: Aren’t I so juicy and rare?
Andrew: Don’t you just wanna pulverize me?
Andrew: Pound me till I’m tender and sore?
Andrew: Slather me in au jus an lick it all off?
Betsey: Why are you like this?
Andrew: Eat me! Eat me raw!
Betsey: [facepalm] Conversations like this are why I tried so hard to kill you with booze.
Andrew laughs and turns back into his main human form. He pulls out a sexy tiger costume from behind his back.
Andrew: Look, I even brought you a little tiger outfit so you can play along. It’s got the tail and everything.
Betsey: I… truly don’t know what to say right now, Andrew. I’m at a loss for words.
Andrew: Go on, do it. Just rip right into me and tear me apart!
Betsey: What the…?
Andrew: [makes claws with his hands] RAWR!!!!
Betsey: No, seriously, why are you like this?
Andrew: You said you needed your inspiration back. I am here to provide!
Betsey: Great. Thanks. Just what I always wanted in a Muse.
Andrew: Yeah I know, I’m pretty great, aren’t I, huh?
Betsey: I’m going back to bed. I really need to get some sleep.
Andrew: But what about my story?
Betsey: I don’t want to write you a story!
Andrew: If you don’t write me a story, I’ll keep talking to you all night long. You wouldn’t want that now, would you?
Betsey: I really don’t. Here’s your stupid, ridiculous, utterly pointless story. Goodnight.