“Oh, not you. Not today.”
I’m just here to check up on my guy. Nothing but positive vibes and cheerful words.
“Uh-huh. Are my disembodied appendix and Miles Davis coming to kill me?”
Not until you get better.
I swear. And no one’s gonna call you and start talking foolishness at you, and Katy Perry isn’t going to launch cruise missiles at your house, and you’re gonna be left to recuperate in peace. Even the semi-fictional version of you has earned some bed rest.
Did they give you ice cream?
“That’s when you get your tonsils out.”
The tonsils and the appendix are very similar organs.
So, what happened? Give TotD the exclusive story so I can sell it to Relix and make a fortune.
“You know you’re not actually talking to me, right?”
Shut up and tell me what happened.
“I was in my hotel room in New Orleans. Wasn’t gonna go out, so I had so many options. Should I solo? Buy stuff online? Laundry? The night lay before me like a highway.”
“And then imagine a fat guy.”
“A fat guy made of knives with barbed wire for hair.”
“And now imagine that fat guy made of knives and barbed wire is dancing in your abdomen.”
What kind of dancing?
Oh, that sounds terrible.
“It wasn’t good. I was, like, doing this cry/yell thing for a couple minutes and Bobby heard and came in the room.”
How did Bobby get in your room?
“We always have adjoining suites and leave the door unlocked in case there’s thunder.”
“Dude, Bobby was awesome. That wonderful man literally picked me up and carried me down to the lobby.”
“He fucking did, man. Course, he threw his back out and now he’s in the next room.”
“Is that jackass bothering you while you’re in the hospital, Josh!?”
“Don’t worry about it, Bobby!”
I know when I’m not wanted.
“You don’t. But whatever, there’s one more thing you have to do.”
“Get Billy and Mickey out of here.”
They visited you at the hospital? That’s sweet.
“They stole half the pharmacy and crashed an ambulance into the gerontology department.”
What floor is that on?
I’ll see what I can do. Go lay down, buddy.
“Okay. No bullshit for a while, promise me.”
I promise. But you gotta promise me one thing.
“You must be joking. What?”
Think about keeping the mustache.
“You like it?”
It’s awesome. Just shave the shit off your chin. Give the ‘stache pride of place.
“I’ll think about it. Fuck off.”