John?
“Welcome.”
What the fuck is this?
“It’s called Drinks With John Mayer. DVD I’m putting out.”
I don’t understand.
“It’s shot from the POV of a hot lady on a couch getting shitfaced off Bordeaux and watching my old concert tapes.”
I still don’t understand.
“It’s immersive technology.”
You put a cameraman in a dress and strapped a Go-Pro to his head in a hotel room while you played your YouTube videos.
“You’re a very dismissive person, y’know that? I’m kinda tired of it, honestly. Awful sick of your shit.”
Wow. Huh. Hey, John?
“What?”
CELL PHONE NOISE
“Oh, FUCK YOU!”
Brought this on yourself, Meyers.
CELL PHONE NOISE
“Is it who I think it is?”
No, no. It’s a surprise. You’ll be happy. I promise.
CELL PHONE NOISE.
“Dammit.”
…
“This is John Mayer.”
“You can be my wingman anytime, Hot Dog Dick!”
“YOU SAID IT WASN’T HIM!”
Yeah. I lied.
“Why would you do that?”
I found it amusing.
…
“Hey, Kim Jong-Un.”
“Call me Maverick.”
“I will not.”
“You can be Goose.”
“I most certainly am not gonna be fucking Goose.”
“You Goose.”
“No Goose.”
“You Goose!”
“No Goose!”
“Is my plane. You not be Goose, I take plane home to Only Korea. Father invent plane.”
“Please! Please take all your shoddy weapons and vehicles back to your hellhole and leave me alone.”
“I love when we banter.”
“Not banter! I shouldn’t be talking to you at all, not even semi-fictionally. I think my phone is tapped now.”
“It is. What this button do?”
Shwoooooom
KaBLAAAAAAAAAAM
…
“Is missile button.”
“Yeah, I got that.”
“Have to go. Call you back. We hit Phish on New Year?”
“Stop calling me.”
“Jong-Un, Hot Dog Dick hang dai.”
“That’s Cantonese, jackass.”
“Got to go. I send assassin to kill Katy Perry. Talk later.”
…
“Wait, what?”
That’s right – that is the turn signal, and the other one is the windshield wipers.