Why did you agree to do this?

“Alicia Keys is a friend and–”

Stop talking right there. Just stop it.

“What’s your problem with Alicia Keys?”

There’s something off about that woman. She may be an Information Droid controlled from within the chest cavity by a super-intelligent possum.

“I’ve seen her in really low-cut stuff, so I don’t think so.”

The chest cavity is obviously well-concealed, man.

“Alicia Keys is a human woman. And a very talented one, too.”

She is the female John Legend.

“Exactly!”

Oh, you thought that was a compliment.

“I don’t know why I would care about your musical taste. She’s a brilliant musician and you’re just a dick for the sake of being a dick.”

She’s a pirate.

“Stop it.”

Make a joke about it. Call her a pirate. Poke her in the eye and lay your dick on her shoulder and call it a parrot.

“What the fuck, dude?”

Okay, yeah, that was sexual assault I just described.

“And just regular assault.”

The eye thing? No, that was sexual assault, too: I wanted you to use your dick to poke her.

“Wow.”

What the fuck are you doing, anyway?

“We’re doing a bit. See, Alicia had been nominated for a Grammy in 2009 for–”

Holy shit, I already don’t care. Don’t tell stories about how you know other famous people, John. I speak for the rabble: we hate that.

“May I continue?”

And you split one of your Grammys in half and gave it to her, some shit like that? And now you’re doing a bit?

“Essentially.”

Dude, you’re doing bits?

“I’m a triple-threat.”

Why didn’t you perform? You could have joined the Red Hot Chili Peppers and Post Malone.

“Me and Post fell out.”

Oh, no. How about a tribute to XXXtentacion?

” I pitched it, but the producers kept bitching about time.”

CELL PHONE NOISE

“You’re just jealous.”

I am objectively judgmental and jealous.

“You’re on with John.”

“Rando War keeps rolling…who did you say this was?”

“America’s sweathog, John Mayer.”

“Ah, shit, now I’m crank-calling myself.”

“Where are you?”

“The NAMM show. Where are you?”

“Grammmys.”

“I was trying to call Bobby.”

“Lines got crossed, I guess.”

“We shouldn’t be talking.”

“Not according to all the books and movies.”

“Hanging up now.”

“Take care of our dick, bro.”

“You, too.”

“Hey!”

Yessir?

“Don’t do that again.”

Didn’t really go anywhere, did it?

“Creeped me out, dude.”