Is there doobie in that cookie?
“Well, uh, we’re in California. There’s doobie in everything now.”
“Shampoo.”
Amazing.
“I saw something, you know, just amazing at the Erotiquarium the other day.”
The Erotiquarium?
“They sell goldfish and dildos.”
Sure.
“Edible underwear edibles.”
I can’t even begin to comprehend what that is.
“Like regular edible underwear, but infused with pure THC extract. It’s a better idea than you think.”
How so?
“Well, you know: you eat the underwear, get high, and then you get hungry again and you eat what’s under the underwear. Works out pretty well for everyone involved.”
Ew.
“I’m gonna agree with the weirdo, Bob. Ew.”
Thanks, Phil.
“Kiss my ass.”
Can we get back to the storyline, please?
“It’s cookie time, man.”
Have you heard from John?
“He’s more than capable of handling some sorority girls.”
One of whom is your daughter.
“I’ll give him a call right now.”
Sure.
CELL PHONE NOISE
“Mayer.”
“Oh, sorry. I was looking for Josh Mey–”
“It’s me, Bob. Josh Meyers. Where are you?”
“I’m sitting right next to you, you son of a bitch.”
“JESUS! Where the fuck did you come from?”
“San Rafael.”
“No, I mean–”
“Don’t worry about that. You stay away from Lisa-Marie.”
“Your daughter’s name is Monet, Bob.”
“Her, too.”
“You’re a nice kid, Josh, but you’re just too old for her. There’s something just not right about a rock star in his very late 30’s going after teenagers.”
…
…
…
“Really?’
“I’m warning you, Meyers.”
“Bob, I’m not interested in any of the girls here.”
“What about that one there?”
“I’d ruin that shit.”
“You been drinking?”
“Yup. Bobby, why is this picture so shitty and we’re circled?”
“He ran out of good photos.”
“Huh.”
“Hey, where’s Putin?”
“In all likelihood, he’s headed towards Terrapin Crossroads by sea.”
“That sounds like him. I should warn Phil.”
APPLE WATCH NOISE
“Terrapin Crossroads, try the pot roast.”
“Phil?”
“Bob? Where the hell did you go?”
“You wouldn’t understand. You don’t have daughters.”
“Bob, I wrote a song about the relationship between fathers and daughters. Maybe we could play it this summer.”
…
“I’m already kinda pissed at you.”
“Sorry.”
“May I continue my phone call on my watch?”
“Sure.”
“Thank you. Hey, Phil.”
“Baby Levon does that to me. Whenever I get on the phone, he’s gotta talk to me.”
“Kids.”
“Kids.”
“Yeah, so, uh: Putin’s coming to your place.”
“How so?”
“By sea.”
“That sounds like him. I’ll alert the busboys.”
“Okee-doke.”
“No, wait. I see the little bastard coming out of the canal.”
“Hey! Get out of here, Putin!”
“Putin occupy. Terrapin Crossroads historically part of Russia.”
“We don’t even serve borscht!”
“You will learn to cook. Putin teach.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Putin make changes to restaurant. Install carving station.”
“Carving station? We’re not at a Bar Mitzvah in Syosset.”
“You are Bar Mitzvah in Syosset.”
“That doesn’t even make sense, jackass.”
“Under vetsuit is tuxedo.”
“No, there isn’t.”
“Putin, Vladimir Putin.”
“Seriously, man: fuck off.”
“Vhy you not book Autograph?”
“Who?”
“Autograph. Is rock band. Rock very hard.”
“Never heard of–”
“HERE AH AM T’ SAVE TH’ DAY!”
“Thank God! It’s Elvis!”
“THASS TH’ RIGHT EMOTION YER FEELIN’ THERE, OL’ BASS PLAYER FELLA. AH AM TH’ HERO O’ TH’ COMIC BOOK AN’ ALSO AH AM A SEA CAPT’N, AN’ ALSO MAH GLORIOUS HAIR IS DOIN’ SOME KINDA CRAZY WING THING. ISS A TRIP, MAN!”
“And you have a very nautical scarf.”
“GOOD EYE, BOY! YOU NEVER GONNA GUESS WHO BROUGHT IT T’ ME!”
“Charlie Hodge?”
“MAN, YER SMART.”
“Elvis, listen: it’s Trivia Night and I can’t have Putin invading my restaurant. Anything you can do?”
“Elvis America can do nothing to Putin. Putin is vinner. Elvis is los–”
thwip
“Putin should have gotten on land before taunting man vith blowdar–”
glug glug glug
BLOOP
“OKAY, AH KILLED HIM.”
“Thanks.”
“LEMME ASK YOU SOMETHING, BOY. THAT RESTAURANT O’ YER’S GOT A KITCHEN?”
“Obviously.”
“THEN YOU MAY FEED YER KING.”
“Come on in.”
“AH WILL ALSO PARTICIPATE IN TRIVIA NIGHT.”
“Cool.”
Why did you do that, Brent?
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