Hey, Mickey.

“I was wondering when you were gonna get to me.”

It’s a long summer, buddy.

“Great summer. You see how many drums I got?”

Many.

“The most! I checked around. No one touring this summer has more drums than me.”

Congratulations?

“You’re welcome.”

You having a little party?

“Oh, yeah. Getting drunk with Black Phil and Girl Justin.”

Reya. She is your daughter.

“I knew the second part.”

Why are you all so bad with names?

“Decades of substance abuse.”

Sure.

“Also, I don’t hear ’em when people tell ’em to me.”

Also true. This is sweet that Reya’s going on tour with you.

“It’s great, man. Having adult children is a blessing.”

I think you just mean “children.”

“No. They’re fucking terrible when they’re kids. I avoided that whole thing.”

Probably for the best.

“Can’t get drunk with children. I mean, you can.”

You shouldn’t.

“No. Kids can’t drink for shit. Sloppy little fuckers.”

You’re cursing more than usual.

“This is my sixth margarita.”

Gonna be a good summer.

“I’ll drink to that.”