Scotsman: I can't believe you killed that cat.
Me: WHAT? I didn't kill any cats!
Scotsman: Killed that cat dead. With your evil.
Me: I will not tolerate such BLASPHEMY.
Scotsman: The cat knew you hated it and it up and died rather than have you take care of it again.
Me: See how you are…
Scotsman: Cat killer.
Me: …SO FULL OF HATE.
Scotsman: Poor little kitty cat. You're a murderer, you know.
Me: I cannot believe you are accusing me of killing Alexander. The cat had a STROKE. I had NOTHING TO DO WITH IT.
Scotsman: And now you're gonna kill that goldfish.
Me: It's a BETTA FISH.
Scotsman: It could be any sort of fish in the sea, you're still going to kill it.
Me: *high pitched whine*
Scotsman: Poor little fishy.
Me: I'm so pleased you have such a high opinion of me.
Scotsman: PET KILLER.
Me: This conversation is over. The fish is alive. It hasn't gotten eaten by a cat, not even a little. The fish WILL LIVE.
Scotsman: Yeah, right. You're the Typhoid Mary of petsitting.
Scotsman: Truth hurts, baby.
Live, you aquatic bastard! LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE!!!!!!!