Stay inside.

“Dude, my backyard is the size of a county. And not one of those dinky suckers Back East. Like, a Texas county.”

Is that your dog?

“That is my dog.”

Is he a rescue?

“In a sense.”

What sense?

“In the sense that I rescued him from the breeder for three grand.”

Dude.

“I just couldn’t love a common dog.”

Wow.

CELL PHONE NOISE

You deserve this.

“I can’t help it if I live a moneyed life.”

You absolutely can.

“But I don’t wanna.”

CELL PHONE NOISE

Answer the phone, douche.

…

“You’re on with John.”

“Hot Dog Dick!”

“Ah, shit.”

“That your lunch?”

“No, that’s my dog.”

“Look delicious.”

“Jesus, that’s offensive. Are you dead yet?”

“Not having good week, Little Potato! Look at hair!”

“Kinda sad.”

“So sad! Surgery go bad. Turns out forbidding education was poor long-term strategy.”

“Yes.”

“Same thing with being a 400 pound chainsmoker. Tough to maintain.”

“Don’t see a lot of 80-year old 400-pound chainsmokers”

“No. Also, sister probably bribe doctors to botch operation.”

“Almost definitely.”

“No look good for Kim Jong-Un. At least I go to Heaven.”

“You think you’re going to Heaven?”

“Father invent Heaven.”

DIAL TONE NOISE EVEN THOUGH PHONES NO LONGER DO THAT

…

“Dude.”

Yup?

“When he dies, will I have to take phone calls from his ghost?”

Almost definitely.

“Fuck.”