Hawaiian, Cruise

Are we tucking in our shirts now?

“There’s nothing I can do you won’t find fault with, is there?”

I can’t overlook this, Jonathan.

“Not my name.”

You look like a chemistry teacher on Casual Friday.

“This is a hand-painted vintage Hawaiian shirt. It cost three grand.”

Oh, we’re all aware of how much your clothes cost, Johnald–

“Also not my name.”

–but that’s not the issue.

“What is the issue?”

That you’re letting your mommy dress you.

“Please go away.”

You’re her handsome little fashion-baby.

“Fuck off.”

WHY WOULD YOU TUCK THAT SHIRT IN!?

“I’m amazed that you’re so bothered by this.”

It makes no sense. It’s a fucking Hawaiian shirt. No one on that island has ever tucked their shirt in. Mostly because the tails always pull out of the hula skirt, but you get my point.

“Racist.”

Hawaiian is not a race.

“Leave me alone. I’m at the Jimmy Kimmel show to introduce my new season of Instagram Stories, and I need to concentrate.”

Instagram Stories?

“Yeah, you see, Instagram has a feature where you can–

CELL PHONE NOISE

“–shoot little videos and…you don’t care.”

Not in the slightest. You have too much time on your hands, and you know what Styx teaches us about that. Answer the phone.

“Hate you.”

Yeah, yeah, Bro-ana.

…

“You’re on with John.”

“John Mayer, it’s Senator Ted Cruz.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“Hold on, I’m smelling an old man.”

“What?”

“SNIIIIIIIIIF. Ohhhh, I love that scent. Hard work and urea, that’s what that scent is. SNIIIIIIIIIF.”

“Can I hep you, Senator?”

“John, I’ll be honest with you. I need some help reaching today’s youths.”

“First off, you should stop calling them ‘youths.'”

“This dirty Commie Irish Mexican is connecting with the kids. SNIIIIIIIIF. He was in a band! A band! I can’t compete with that.”

“You can’t.”

“So here’s the proposition: you and maybe some negros you know come out and do some benefit shows for me.”

“Hard pass.”

“SNIIIIIIIIIIF!”

“You need to stop smelling that old man.”

“Don’t you tell Ted Cruz his old-man-smelling business, boy!”

“Okay, I’m gonna hang up the phone.”

“SLLLLLLURRRRRRRPPP!”

“What was THAT?”

“Now I’m eating oysters.”

“Okay, if I listen to you make any more noises, I’m gonna throw up.”

“C’mon and help me, John. You’ve already got your shirt tucked in; you’re halfway to Republican.”

DIAL TONE NOISE EVEN THOUGH PHONES NO LONGER DO THAT

“What did I ever do to you?”

You joined the Grateful Dead.

“That doesn’t mean I deserve this type of treatment.”

And you tucked in a Hawaiian shirt.

“LEAVE THE SHIRT OUT OF IT!”

You brought this on yourself, Hula Boy.