“Everybody loves Uncle Billy!”
God, you make things weird.
“Look at this fucker, Ass. Look how happy this fucker is. Happy little fucker.”
He looks thrilled.
“Course he is! Gettin’ in some prime Billy-time. That’s a rare treat. You know how much that VIP bullshit costs?”
“Great system: the randos pay out the nose, and I put the money up my nose.”
Please stop being so cynical.
“Huh? Oh, sure, sure. The VIP packages are all about the muuuuuusic, man.”
Okay, good point.
“Rich fuckers wanna pay me to make ’em feel special, I got a couple minutes.”
It’s not a bad racket.
“I take requests, too. Weir just meets ’em and takes pictures and whatever. You got the cash, I’ll consider it. Played Twister with some folks. Some light cuckoldry. One couple paid me to take it out, but then I refused to put it away until they ponied up. Made money coming and going on that one.”
“I feel like you’re being sarcastic, and invite you to get a hangnail on the head of your penis.”
“Fact is that I’m the only one offering customer service. Rest of the guys are busts.”
What? Why? What do they do with the VIPs?
“Black Phil and whoever’s playing keyboards just get ’em high. Mickey plays drums with ’em. The pretty one yammers at ’em about watches or some bullshit.”
Those all sound fine, actually.
“But what if that’s not what you want? And you have cash?”
Billy, the VIP packages are not the proper grounds for your grifts.
“Stole a bunch of wallets, too.”
I assumed that. How’s the Summer of Skank going?
“We capitalizing that now?”
I guess so.
“It’s going great. Look how fancy this place is.”
“Yeah. Real ritzy-titzy. Best place for a skank hunt.”
“The employees! Some of ’em don’t speak English, some of ’em don’t speak any language at all.”
“Except the secret language of skank.”
“Last night, a maid left a mint on my pillow.”
“Left a mint on my pillow.”
What does that mean, Billy?
“She stuck a Cert up her ass, and sat on my face.”
“I gave her a tip!”
I would hope so.
“And then I slid it in a little bit more.”
“Summer of Skank!”