“I’m Sailor Garcia.”
In that outfit?
“The Garcias have been talking.”
“We’ve decided to take your whining as a challenge and see how little sense we could make.”
Could you not do that?
“Perhaps. Let me ask Unfuckable Garcia.”
You’re Unfuckable Garcia?
I don’t get it. Do you stink or something?
“I smell like a pine tree smoking a pipe.”
Who said that? Why are there more of you?
“Who’s that young strapping lad? I need an assistant, and he looks smart.”
“Of course, he’ll have to follow the dress code.”
Put his shirt on?
“Take his pants off.”
Ah. And which Garcia are you?
“I’m Dom DeLuise.”
The real Dom DeLuise?
“The one and only.”
“Of course you are.”
“Yar, I be th’ true Sailor Garcia! Th’ fiend above lifted my name!”
I don’t care.
“You didn’t even notice the cat in my beard.”
Oh, wow, cool. Still: fuck off. I was talking to Dom DeLuise.
“The fat dago is a-circling the cabin boy in hopes of sodomizing him.
Please don’t say things like that.
“I’m from the past!”
Go back there!
“I told you to stop doing this shit, man.”
Oh, hey, Garcia. Whatch–
“Don’t give me that ‘whatcha up to’ shit. Knock it off.”
I’ve been trying.