What blowtorch?

"What on earth are you doing?"
"Um... Nothing." She tired to hide whatever it was behind her back. "Absolutely nothing. Bored out of my mind here."
"For some strange reason, I don't believe you. Why are you wearing a welding mask?"
"It's a fashon statement. It says 'I could be a serial killer and you'd never even know it.' I think that's an area seriously ignored in the world of high fashon."
"Again, I don't believe you."
"And again, I don't see why."
"Really. Because I could have sworn you were building something."
"Nope. You really think I'd try that after what happened last time?"
"Yes."
A moments pause ensued. "True. But still, those firefighters would be mad if that happened again."
"So why are you doing it again?"
"I'm not!"
"Then why are you holding a blowtorch?"
"What blowtorch?"
"The one in your hand."
"Um... Oh, this blowtorch. No reason."
"For the third time today, I don't believe you."
"Saw that coming," she mumbled.
"So what are you doing with the blowtorch?"
"Um... Most certainly not building a flying racecar."
"You're building a flying racecar?!"
"No.... maybe."
"May I ask why?"
"May I ask why not?"
"Do I really have to answer that?"
"If I have to answer you, you have to answer me."
"Why am I even having this conversation..."
"You know, you really shouldn't hit your head on the wall like that. It can't be good for you."

Again, I just randomly started typing a story, and this is what I got. Enjoy, and then give suggestions. Or else.