Nomenclature

[titusnowl]

Roger, setting breakfast on the table:  We ought to have a name for ourselves.  We can't all be saints, you know.
Norman, thoughtfully: Angels?
Dicky, seriously: No, that's been done, and better.  We'd none of us look that good in hot pants.
Norman, suggestively: Roger might.
Roger, protestingly: Look, I only wore that dress because Simon said it was strategically important!
Dicky, impertinently: But did he say 'Simon Says' first?
Roger, truculently: I'm never cooking breakfast for you lot again, just see if I do.
Simon, calmly: That's fine.  You never leave any for us anyway.
Norman, conversationally: Also you talk with your mouth full.
Roger, hastily swallowing: I do not!
Simon, crushingly: You do.
Dicky, decisively: At any rate, Angels is out.  Pass the marmalade.
Roger, teasingly: What's the magic word?
Dicky, childishly: 'Simon Says.'
Roger, contrarily: He does not.  Dicky says, and that's not the same at all.
Simon, sweetly: Pass Dicky the marmalade, please.  That's a good boy.
Dicky, around a mouthful of toast: How about the Irregulars?
Roger, accusingly: Now who's talking with his mouth full?
Simon, amused: Three items.  One, Roger is right this time. 
Roger, interrupting: Hooray!
Simon, continuing: Two, I am not Sherlock Holmes, and three, this is not Baker Street.
Dicky, cheerfully: We're certainly irregular, though.
Norman, offensively: Roger more than most.
Roger, after a moment's silent glowering: Halos.
Simon, beaming warmly: That's it, my dear old cantaloupe!  The Saint and his Halos.
In unison, happily: That'll do!
Simon, after a pause:  Roger can still wear hot pants if he likes.