"Hey Spum, your Björnix catalogue just got in."
"Cool, let's see what all the new geegaws they're offering. Scarab soap. Neh. Our scarabs are clean enough. Lefthanded ankhs? Oh, they've got the enamel on the other side. Wait, that still doesn't make any sense. Hey, Isis, listen to this. 'The Spacemummy Mach Four features self-regulating, dosage-controlled resins and flexible polymers.' Heh, that's some hot bitumen."
"Sounds perverse."
"Of course it is. 'An inner drip controls natron levels, releases thanotransmitters.' Says that they've improved some of the internal systems. 'The Mach Four's master controller now features a single point of failure: a rat, nestled in the ribcage, bathed in blue light, continually pressing a single button with its nose.' Well, stick that in your cartouche and glyph it. I wish I had that mummy."
"Spum, the one you got is fine."
"Yea, but this one has a palm wine dispenser."
"Piffle."
"Hmm, they've changed the spice mixture but they won't say how. It's supposed to be more pleasant. Do you think I smell like beef jerky?"
"Only after sex."