CELL PHONE NOISE
“Wha? Why? What time is it? Hello?”
“Baberman!”
“Ah, fuck.”
SHA NA NA INTRO MUSIC NOISE
“It’s your boy, Mooch!”
“I heard the theme music.”
“You see me on Colbert tonight? Fuckin’ killed that shit. Got it up on the big screen now. Mamalucha! I look good.”
“Why are you calling?”
“I’d fuck me.”
“I take it you’re getting over your divorce.”
“Pssh. Not even in my rearview anymore. Mooch is moving on. And moving out. You like Billy Joel?”
“I work for the New York Times. Of course I like Billy Joel.”
“Next time he comes around, we’ll go together.”
“No.”
“I get tickets in the luxury boxes, so I can go in the back and get a bit of skull You know: in case he starts playing any new stuff.”
“Skull?”
“My dick goes insane in the mountains of mouthness.”
“I have absolutely no idea–”
“Some slurp for my wontons.”
“What does any of this have to do with Billy Joel?”
“I know him, y’know.”
“Of course you do.”
“One time out in the Hamptons, me and Billy are driving around late at night. Mercedes, the Brabus, very classy. We’re gettin’ high, I’m helpin’ him with lyrics, it’s a great night.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And Billy looks at me and says, ‘Watch this, Mooch.’ And he drives the car right the fuck into a tree.”
“Really.”
“And then, with a superhuman strength he had heretofore not displayed in my presence, he pulled my body over to the driver’s side as he got out. ‘When the cops come? If you mention my name, I’ll fuckin’ kill you.’ This is what he said! ‘I’m Billy fuckin’ Joel, motherfucker.’ And then he kissed me on the mouth and ran into the woods.”
“None of this happened.”
“Greatest night of my life.”
“Why are you calling me?”
“Swaggie–”
“Don’t call me that.”
“–I genuinely wanted to hear your opinion on my Colbert spot. I value your insight as a reporter and as a writer.”
“Really?”
“Sure, why not.”
“You’re coked up and bored with talking to the hookers?”
“Bingo bongo bango. You’re sharp.”
“I’ve been told.”
“You did watch, right?”
“Yes, I watched.”
“I knew it. You’re sweet on me. You’re drunk off Mooch Hooch.”
“I am a fan of Stephen Colbert.”
“Between you and me? Pretty sure he’s a fag.”
“Stop that.”
“I got a vibe off him.”
“Maybe he was just reflecting your energy, ever think about that?”
“Ayyoh! Watch your mouth, little girl.”
“Little girl?”
“The Mooch ain’t no finocchio. I eat more pussy than the Koreans.”
“Wow. Sexist and racist at once.”
“Mooch killed that shit so hard. Already blowing up. Got an offer from a teevee station to do a talk show.”
“Russia Today?”
“Who leaked that!? Was it Bannon?”
“I guessed.”
“That fat fuck Bannon. I give him this!”
HAND BITING NOISE
“And this!”
FINGERS FLICKED FROM UNDER THE CHIN NOISE
“That’s what I give Steve Bannon.”
“You do know we’re on the phone, right?”
“You know what he always reminded me of? Fight Club.”
“Fight Club? Everybody was in shape in that movie. Wait. Meatloaf?”
“Nah. You remember when Brad Pitt and the other guy steal the fat to make soap? And they’re going over the fence with the barbed wire and one of the bags gets caught and starts leaking? That’s what Bannon reminds me of. That bag of human fat draped over barbed wire and pouring grease and shit onto the world.”
“Not a bad analogy.”
“You think I should be on Dancing with the Stars?”
“Have they called?”
“They’re gonna.”
“You should.”
“Gotta keep the face out there. Besides, the Mooch got moves. Me and my friends used to go down to this disco in Queens every Saturday night.”
“I already know where this is going.”
“And then we raped a chick and my buddy jumped off a bridge. It’s honestly fucked-up story if you think about it.”
“I’m hanging up the phone.”
“Why do we still say ‘hang up?’ Isn’t that weird?”
“Good night, Mooch.”
“Wait, wait. So you really thought I did good?”
“You were your usual charming self.”
“I gotta be me.”
“Even when you shouldn’t.”
“Sure you don’t wanna come over?”
“Goodnight.”
“I got ecstasy.”
DIAL TONE NOISE EVEN THOUGH PHONES NO LONGER DO THAT
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