“Yeah. I got some cartilage to pick with you.”
I don’t think that joke makes any sense. Dolphins have bones.
“Never took marine biology.”
Wouldn’t you just call it “biology?”
“We’re getting off the point.”
What is the point?
“Tell Weir to suck my dick. Or whatever it is I have.”
“I honestly don’t know.”
What’s your problem with Bobby?
“That loudmouth sister-in-law of his–”
“–got in his ear about how the dolphins were being abused, and he fucked my shit up. I got no gigs this weekend because of him.”
Wait. You like interacting with tourists all day?
“Like it? LOVE it.”
I am shocked.
“The best. First the little ones stick their hands in my blowhole, and then their fat fuck parents ride me around like I’m a carnival pony, and then they toss me fish like I’m their inferior.”
“And, ohhhh, do I love posing for Instagram pictures.”
“Really feel like I’m fulfilling my purpose.”
Dolphins have discovered sarcasm, have they?
“Well, first we tried to discover explosives.”
“Fuses got wet.”
“Honestly, thank Bobby. Weekend off is nice. Listen to some tunes, catch up on my sleep. Still haven’t seen Stranger Things.”
It’s a must.
“Tell Billy he can totally break in here and hang out with us.”
He doesn’t need any approval on that one; I can almost guarantee you’ll see him.
“Awesome. Uncle fuckin’ Billy. Oh, hey, I figured out what our dicks look like.”
I don’t need to–
Is it giving the finger?
Fuck, yeah. If my dick could give people the finger, I’d be a millionaire.
“That’s a good gimmick.