bobby randos les paul

“I don’t know if the speech went well.”

“it was great, Bob. Everyone really enjoyed it, except for the people who got burned when your giant robot amplifier caught fire. And the people that Elvis kicked.”

“Well, there I don’t know if I agree: folks seemed awful excited for Elvis to do karate on them.”

“Either way, it was only a couple of people. And I can’t thank you enough for bringing us down to Creepy Ernie’s for shorts.”

“You fellows bought in bulk, and Ernie appreciates that.”

“Why did he make us all shower before trying the shorts on?”

“To film you naked.”

“That’s what we all figured, yeah.”

“Does Ernie have any shorts left?”

“No, we bought all the shorts.”

“Yup. Again, I apologize. You know, for all the weirdness. It’s, uh, just symptomatic of greater maladies.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“There ya go. I got another story about Les Paul if we’ve got time. During the rainy season, Machu Picchu is home to guitarists and mercenaries; Les Paul was both. He was drinking gin in a bar when–

Hello.

Here we are.

We’ve always been here.

Hungry.

SHMOCHSHMOCHSHMOCH

NARFNARFNARF

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?”

“Dancing bears ate the guy in the baseball cap.”

“Which one?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Where’d they go!?”

“They’re still here. They’re always here.”

“Anyway, I got my tour bus back from Soup and that’s where I’m going. Thanks for the award. Sorry about the guy who got eaten, and the ones who got burned, and the ones who got kicked. Namaste.”

“You’re just gonna go?”

“Do you want an autograph?”

“Just go.”