“Let’s go to Ireland and get gay married.”
“Do…do…do you mean it, Billy?”
…
“You a fruit?”
“For you or for everybody else?”
“What?”
“Nothing?”
…
“It’s bad enough you’re a Jew: you can’t be a fruit, too.”
“Gotcha, boss.”
“Don’t call me that.”
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OK, I figured it out. Benjy was getting tips from Ron’s fluffers. just trying to make sense of it all.