I'm inside your house

[Bazooka]

Don't want to give you the willies but I'm in your house, I've been inside the walls for weeks, don't believe me?  Then how would I know:

- That money you leave on the side for the window cleaner keeps getting exchanged for Greek Drachmas, at the live rate.
-Your wife gives the Nazi salute before getting in the shower and strumming her bean.
-You scuttle around the house naked when it's empty, pretending to be a gargoyle.
-You asphyxiate yourself with a pasta necklace, spluttering 'Mamma mia' before blowing your load.

I'm leaving for the weekend, but I will reenter, please buy some more luncheon meat and a a bottle of cherryade for my return.

[spaghetamine]

If you've really been living inside the walls of my house for weeks, as you claim, then you will surely be aware of the area of the house that we refer to only as "the forbidden room?" Have you been in the forbidden room recently?

[Bazooka]

I was aware of a medium sized chamber, I couldn't quite get through the insulation which appeared to be made of a strange rubber material that smelled like aubergines. Once I've rejuvenated my burrowing apendhage, I'll be in that 'Forbidden room'.

[spaghetamine]

You'll do well to keep out of there, for your own sake.

[popcorn]

That's not forbidden, that's my room.