“Rando War!”

I cannot explain this to you for the second fucking year running. A rando is a non-famous person who is not your wife.

“Are these people famous? Or my wife?

Yes to both. I don’t know the guy in the middle, but he looks famous. He’s got the skin of a famous person.

“You should see it up close. It’s creamy.”

Whoa, just noticed the boob window. Christie’s aging well.

“I was gonna make a run at her.”

Looks are not important to her.

“But she lives in such an uptown world.”

Don’t you fucking dare.

“You think she’s ever had a backstreet guy?”

You stop that now, Mickey.

“Ooh, there’s the guy with the little hot dogs.”

“Hey! I figured out the rando thing!”

Shit.

“Randos! I’m in the Rando War now.”

Those are the Brolins, Amir Bar-Lev.

“Is that a sub-species of rando?”

Those two men are the opposite of randos.

“Sodnar?”

Stop that.

“Not randos?’

No.

“The old one keeps bothering me about stuff I left out of the movie.”

Yeah, you’re gonna get that for the rest of your life.

“I’m coming to terms with it. Do I win Rando War?”

You were DQ’ed out of the gate.

“Dairy Queen?”

Disqualified.

“I mean I wanted you to buy me Dairy Queen.”

“Are we getting ice cream? I found a rando.”

Not a rando, Mickey. Your daughter.

“She’s a mermaid.”

She is. Still your child, though, and therefore not a rando.

“Let’s get back to the ice cream.”

“Mickey, you up for ice cream?”

“Amir?”

“Hey, Mick. Soft serve?”

“Fuck, yeah. Swirl that shit up.”

“Nice. Let’s go.”

…

Guys?

…

…

…

Guys?

…

Um. Hi, Reya.

“Don’t talk to me.”

Okay.