The L's are silent, Mr. E.

For dinner tonight, my dad and I decided to make quesadillas. Well, he decided. By the time I made my grand entrance into the kitchen, he was already stirring a thin white liquid around in a bowl, looking puzzled.
The following conversation followed:
"Hi Dad. Need some help? I can chop the olives."
"Olives! Shoot! I forgot!"
"Hey Hol?"
"What?"
"Isn't this supposed to be thicker?"
"Um, yes."
"Okay, well, I'll add some more chicken. That should help."
"Maybe you could add flour. That's a thickener!"
"Yeah! Flour! Go get it!"
"Okay. Does that look like enough?"
"More. This stuff is really runny."
"There you go."
"I'll just start on the cheese."
"Dad?"
"What?"
"Is it supposed to look that disgusting?"
"I don't think so."
"Mom's home!"
"Quick! Hide the flour!"

Believer it or not, the quesadillas actually turned out fairly well. A little watery, though.