Are you wearing a tee-shirt with your own picture on it while autographing your own car?
“Looks like it.”
That’s a healthy level of self-regard even for a Rock Star.
“Well, you know how I’ve been looking for my bliss?”
You’ve mentioned it once or twice.
“Sure. Well, uh, I found my bliss. Turns out it’s me. I’m my own bliss.”
“The commute’s great.”
Sure. Why are you signing your car?
“Giving it away.”
Can I have it?
“Not that kind of giving it away. Auction.”
Figures. Finally decided to get rid of the old girl?
“She’s acting up. The, uh, performance issues have intensified.”
“I don’t know how it got a hold of my credit cards, but it ordered itself new rims.”
“Spinners. And, you know: I’m not really a show-offy kind of guy.”
You’re wearing a tee-shirt with your own face on it.
“Maybe I’m just not a spinner guy.”
“That was bad, but the phone calls are unacceptable.”
“The car has learned to imitate my voice.”
Like the T1000?
“Exactly. And it, uh, crank calls my friends and family. Little bastard fired New Brent the other day.”
That’s kinda funny.
“Funny to you. Because you didn’t have to spend an hour on the phone with a crying keyboardist.”
True. Thinking about what your new ride’s gonna be?
“Oh, yeah. Been looking at a 1985 Buick Grand National.”
“Maybe importing a Skyline from Japan.”
“I could dig the Vette out of the garage. Needs a little paint, tune-up. She’ll run good again. Or, you know, I could just get another Tesla so my sister-in-law–”
“–doesn’t stab me in the face with a locally-sourced machete.”
“I want the one with the fancy doors.”
Good choice. What’s Billy doing there?
“He wanted to get one last tugger in the backseat.”
Has he been getting tuggers in the backseat of your bar, Bobby?
“If you asked me that yesterday, I would’ve said ‘no.’ But things have come to light today.”
Billy told you?
Did he tell you while he was getting a tugger in the backseat of your car?
You should leave that off the auction website.