Oh. who the hell are you?
“I am the real Curry Garcia! That other bastard is stealing my act!”
I don’t want to play this game.
“Satisfaction must be mine! I summon the Court of Garcias!”
“My verdict is: death by seppuku.”
Oh, that’s your answer for everything.
“You have shamed me. I will now commit seppuku.”
Stop this. Stop all of this.
“A-sala’am Alekem, or however you spell that.”
Oh, this won’t end well.
“I am Imam Garcia. I heard we were gathering?”
“That is what I heard.”
You heard an incorrect thing.
“Allow me to make up quotes at you–”
“–the sands of the oasis water both camel and man. Hmm? Nice?”
It’s not terrible, honestly. But you still need to leave.
“Did someone assemble the Garcias?”
YOU ARE NOT A GARCIA. You’re Hagrid.
Please make this end.
I want to help you there, but I’ve lost control of the idea.
That’s not a thing.
“It could be a thing with some magic!”
Shut up, Hagrid.
Yeah, Hagrid. Go fuck your hippogriff. Grown-ups are talking.
Anyway: can we stop this, please?
I’m trying, but–
–I’m outnumbered by Garcias.
“I’m Cranky Turban Garcia and I say we hang the sonofabitch.”
I don’t even remember what we were talking about.
It was gibberish from the start.
“Do not ignore me!”
Just hit publish and move on.