Hey, Josh. You cheating on Shawn Mendes with Harry Styles?

“Dude, fuck off. It’s my birthday.”

Is he your present? Are you unwrapping him and blowing out his candle?

“Stop.”

By “candle,” I meant “penis.” And by “blowing out,” I meant–

“I got it.”

Bro, I get it. He’s very pretty.

“Our relationship is not sexual.”

You should make it sexual. Honestly, it would be the best career move you’ve made since Katy Perry dumped you.

“She didn’t dump me. It was a mutual thing.”

Sure, buddy. I’m not judging you for porking Harry Styles.

“Not porking him.”

Giving him the beef.

“Nope.”

Roasting his rump.

“No more meat-related sex euphemisms, please.”

That chicken is tender.

“I said not to do–”

CELL PHONE NOISE

“–that anymore. Is that Nixon?”

Nope.

“Worse?”

Much.

“Asshole.”

“You’re on with John.”

“Hot Dog Dick!”

“Ah, fuck.”

“Where you at? I come get. Room for two on horse.”

“Well, I was not expecting this.”

“I your knight in shining armor. Come to get on fine Arab charger.”

“Stop quoting Emotional Rescue to me.”

“Underrated.”

“Emotional Rescue is not underrated at all.”

“Disco Stone is best Stone.”

“I’m not having this discussion with you.”

“I come get you. We ride. You my Little Potato.”

“Do not come and get me.”

“You wrap arms around Kim Jong-Un. All sort of bouncing and rubbing.”

“Hanging up now.”

“Father invent horse.”

DIAL TONE NOISE EVEN THOUGH PHONES NO LONGER DO THAT

“He’s gonna call back, isn’t he?”

Dude, I got around a half-dozen pictures of him on that poor animal.

“Shit.”