“Where’s my hat?”
“What hat?”
“You got Weir a cowboy hat.”
“He thinks he’s a cowboy.”
“I could be a cowboy. What are you saying, Shapiro? I couldn’t be a cowboy?”
“You could be a cowboy.”
“There drugs in this cake?”
“It’s just cake.”
“Jesus, man. No hat, no drugs. Hell of a birthday.”
“I’ve never seen you wear a hat before.”
“You’ve never seen my asshole, either, but you know I have one.”
“That’s not a great analogy.”
“Go get me a cowboy hat and a cake made out of drugs.”
“It’s midnight in Port Chester. I can’t get either of those things.”
…
“What’s with the turtle?”
“On the cake?”
“Yeah.”
“Terrapin. You know: the Dead, turtles.”
“I know what it is. I want to know why you’re using my IP without paying me.”
“The dancing turtles do not belong to you.”
“Jim Irsay bought them for me.”
“Phil, I don’t think so.”
“You owe me money.”
“I’m paying you for the shows.”
“No, I’m giving you a portion of the money I make from the shows to set things up.”
“Hurtful.”
“Not hurtful. Hurtful would be telling you that you did a great job in Superbad.”
“Enjoy your cake, Phil.”
“How can I without a cowboy hat or drugs?”
Man, Phil’s got some good Terrapin going on. That neck. And Shappy? Frogs & Skeeters puffing out their necks.
Let me just say, if you can’t find enough drugs to fill a cake at midnight in Port Chester when Phil is in town, you are not trying.