You have such attractive parents, John.

“This is Fleetwood Mac.”

Ah. You have a straw, a flashlight, and some coke?

“That’s a terrible rumor about a wonderful and talented woman.”

See, that’s where we differ. I think it makes her more awesome.

“It’s scurrilous.”

What now?

“I got a Word-A-Day calendar.”

Gotcha.

“Today was ‘cenobite.'”

That should come in useful. You look spectacular. Good night’s sleep?

“No, it’s 2005.”

Oh, even better. You should stay there. You aged drastically.

“I did not!”

Do you know ‘Stevie’ is short for ‘Stevedore?’

“I didn’t, because it isn’t.”

Well, then, Creem magazine lied to me.

“Could be.”

“PHONE CALL FOR JOSH MEYERS!”

“What the fuck is that?”

You have a phone call.

“Doesn’t it usually come to my cell?”

It’s 2005.

“There were cell phones in 2005.”

Were there? It all rolls into one and all that.

“PHONE CALL FOR MISTER JOSH MEYERS!”

“Goddammit. Here!”

…

“You’re on with John.”

“Johnny?”

“I know this voice.”

“Of course you do! It’s me, Benjy, your manager and psychopomp.”

“Psychopomp?”

“Check your calendar. It’s the word for June 9th.”

“Cool. What do you want, Benjy?”

“Put me on the phone with Fleetwood. Or Mac. Whichever the bald guy is.”

“Absolutely not.”

“He needs to write a book, and I need to get paid for it.”

“I’m not putting you on the phone with Mick Fleetwood.”

“Fine. Lemme talk to Stevie’s asshole.”

DIAL TONE NOISE BECAUSE IT’S A REAL PHONE AND THEY DID THAT

“Is he in Hawaii?”

I think so.

“Sweet.”