Trillaphon: "Alright...who ordered the fucking special?!"
Hydrogen: That guy has a velcro bib that looks like a wifebeater, so he can tear it off repeatedly during fights without having to waste all his money on shirts.
Trillaphon: He's the Edison of our time. We're going to make a fortune when we launch ShirtBib.com.
Hydrogen: This place is like the shitty redneck dive bar from Roadhouse, except in this town the bouncers grab all the scum and throw them into the building.
Trillaphon: I wonder if he rips off that bib when he goes into Red Lobster so that he can put on the lobster bib instead, or if he puts the lobster one over it to keep from getting schmutz on it. Or maybe he just stands there flexing while the wait staff anoint his muscles in clarified butter and slide him back and forth between the kitchen and dining room like a greased up crabeater seal with bus trays all over his back.
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Not what I had in mind when I ordered an Italian gondolier. This is literally just a tiny toy. Needless to say, the Italian businessmen were not impressed and I looked like a damn fool. We lost the pizza pie account and will have to lay off half our factory.
Time to applaud the man who applauds in a loop until the end of time.
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