Hey, hey, hey.

“It’s not a Rudy hat.”

It is absolutely a Rudy hat.

“Nope.”

Dude, don’t fucking argue with me about the Junkyard Gang. It’s a Rudy hat, and that’s final. Here, look:

See? He’s even got a guitar like you. You’re Rudy now.

“I am not–”

Shut up, Rudy.

“Dude, I will literally–”

CELL PHONE NOISE

“I’m not picking it up.”

No?

ROAD CASE FULL OF COLLECTIBLE SNEAKERS SPONTANEOUSLY COMBUSTING NOISE

“Fine, I’ll pick it up.”

I thought so.

…

“Which hateful fat fuck is this?”

“I no fat. I husky.”

“Hey, Kim Jong-Un.”

“Hot Dog Dick, you need come get your boy.”

“Who?”

“WHAT FUCK HE DOING?”

“Dude, I got no idea.”

“Look my face.”

“You look surprised.”

“Did no see this one coming.”

“None of us did. Not a single one of us saw this one coming.”

“He something else, bro. But you need come get now.”

“No one here wants him back. Why don’t you take him home with you?”

“Dummy no be happy in Only Korea. We no have Burger King.”

“Oh, right.”

“But we no have Mexicans, either. So maybe he like.”

“If you throw him a parade every week, he’ll be thrilled. And talk about him on teevee. He loves that.”

“No want him. Kim Jong-Un ditch. Come pick up Little Potato.”

“Do not come and pick me up. I’m busy.”

“Got idea. Kidnap Phish. Kill Trey. You guitar player now. We make out with Katy Tur.”

“No.”

“Each take a boobie.”

“No.”

“We do double-team. Kim Jong-Un go around back. You stay in front yard.”

“Hanging up now.”

“Okay if you look in my eyes while we bang. No homo.”

DIAL TONE NOISE EVEN THOUGH PHONES NO LONGER DO THAT

“That was unpleasant.”

Everything about this year is unpleasant, Rudy.

“Fuck you.”