BerriesStop’n’Shop is a Boston fixture. My last few years in the area, one of the bus stops on my commute was just flat-out named after the store. Must’ve figured it was at least as permanent as the street names — and it’s not like you’d be getting off there for anything else.

In or outside of Boston, I don’t have any knack for finding berries that aren’t just-too-ripe. Any time I bring some home, they’ve gotta be eaten in the next meal. Surviving overnight is just not in the cards.


Bianca: So did you and she–?

(RATTLE)

Being: Timmy! We got a stock of just-too-ripe berries from Stop’n’Shop. They’re not going to survive normal distribution. Think we should make pie?

(FLASH)

Oh, hey, it’s you!

Patrick: It ‘s me. Why didn’t you tell me your last Master was one of the religious ones?

Being: You didn’t ask. I see you’ve switched. What are you called now?