“Rando War!”

I cannot explain this to you for the second fucking year running. A rando is a non-famous person who is not your wife.

“Are these people famous? Or my wife?

Yes to both. I don’t know the guy in the middle, but he looks famous. He’s got the skin of a famous person.

“You should see it up close. It’s creamy.”

Whoa, just noticed the boob window. Christie’s aging well.

“I was gonna make a run at her.”

Looks are not important to her.

“But she lives in such an uptown world.”

Don’t you fucking dare.

“You think she’s ever had a backstreet guy?”

You stop that now, Mickey.

“Ooh, there’s the guy with the little hot dogs.”

“Hey! I figured out the rando thing!”

Shit.

“Randos! I’m in the Rando War now.”

Those are the Brolins, Amir Bar-Lev.

“Is that a sub-species of rando?”

Those two men are the opposite of randos.

“Sodnar?”

Stop that.

“Not randos?’

No.

“The old one keeps bothering me about stuff I left out of the movie.”

Yeah, you’re gonna get that for the rest of your life.

“I’m coming to terms with it. Do I win Rando War?”

You were DQ’ed out of the gate.

“Dairy Queen?”

Disqualified.

“I mean I wanted you to buy me Dairy Queen.”

“Are we getting ice cream? I found a rando.”

Not a rando, Mickey. Your daughter.

“She’s a mermaid.”

She is. Still your child, though, and therefore not a rando.

“Let’s get back to the ice cream.”

“Mickey, you up for ice cream?”

“Amir?”

“Hey, Mick. Soft serve?”

“Fuck, yeah. Swirl that shit up.”

“Nice. Let’s go.”

Guys?

Guys?

Um. Hi, Reya.

“Don’t talk to me.”

Okay.