“Change it back or I pull the plug.”
To the internet?
“If that’s what this plug is, then: yeah.”
The plug is not the internet.
“It’s 1967. I have no idea what we’re talking about.”
Sure. Nice pants.
“Weird story: me and Weir got a little too high the other day and started wandering. Must have walked for two or three hours, just rapping and solving the world’s problems, y’know? We looked up and we were in a neighborhood neither of us had ever been to before.”
You don’t say.
“Hell, we hadn’t even heard of the place.”
“You’ve been there?”
I’ve read about it.
“And one of the little shops was the best pants place I’ve ever been. Got these, a couple more pair. Real nice owner, fair prices. Said he was gonna come to the show today, actually. Maybe I’ll run into him.”
“Ernie? No: Ernie’s the stockboy. The owner is About To Be Murdered For His Shop Dwayne.”
Ah. Right. If you do see him, maybe you should warn him that Ernie’s about to murder him.
“I’m not a snitch, man.”
What’s with the baby?
“Not a Dead show without a naked baby wobbling around in front of the amplifiers.”