“How many days is this going to last, Bob?”
“You’re referring to the fact that while jamming with you and Gronk at Fenway Park last week, my compatriots dosed you and me with God-only-knows-what, causing us to translegofy and also meet many guest stars, including Elvis several times?”
“And also spout exposition, apparently.”
“I was just being polite. Sometimes this crap is tough to follow.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Ser Pico–
“Huh?”
“–I think I know a way out of this. But, first: how does my hair look?”
“Your hair looks like plastic.”
“Sexy plastic?”
“Bob.”
“All right, all right. Keep your crown on, Your Rampantness. Closest I can figure is we found the LD of the emic.”
“What does that mean?”
“We gave reality an overdose. Might have to jam an adrenaline needle in God’s heart.”
“Metaphorically?”
“Hope so.”
“Bob, you’re making no sense.”
“Yes, but I know someone who does. We just gotta find him. Hey! Lefty!”
“You’re not gonna be mean to me, are you?”
“Nah, I just got a question.”
“My wife left me.”
“Sorry to hear that. You seen Katy Perry? More specifically, you seen Doctor Gary?”
“Last I saw him, he was masterminding Katy’s kidnapping.”
“Didn’t that storyline wrap up?”
“Do storylines ever really wrap up?”
“Sure, sure.”
“Excuse me, Bob: what’s happening here?”
“Oh my God! Yoko Ono!”
…
“Do I have a trailer I can go to, Bob?”
“Better. Much better.”
“Is that an Earthroamer, Bob?”
“Close enough.”
“YOU TRYING TO TAKE MY PLACE?”
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