Right. You’re the guy Mickey bought, right?
“I am to Mickey.”
Heard you died.
“I am to died. Yes.”
Sorry about that.
How’d it happen?
You punted the little dude?
“Not on purpose. I was coming down the stairs and I didn’t see him and: FWEEEEEE right across the living room. Got a good toe on the little fucker: tight spiral.”
I told you to give him back, anyway.
“He was happy with us! Grandkids loved him, he would play with the dogs.”
“Okay, fine: the dogs would play with him.”
“He loved it here, man. He drummed with us all the time, and he smoked a ton of dope, and I may or may not have gotten him laid.”
I guess that’s okay.
“Had very oddly-shaped genitalia.”
Don’t want to know.
“There was some kind of foreskin on his balls.”
That’s not a thing.
“A testicular shroud. Very bad omen in some cultures.”
That’s a bad omen? How does it compare to being 2’3″ and owned by a Grateful Dead?
“About the same.”
ps The guy’s name is actually Chandra Bahadur Dangi and he probably had more than enough bullshit to deal with without my shitty jokes. He had no relationship with Mickey, but is in reality dead.