What are you greasy sack of fuck nuts doing in here?
What in the fuck?
Soldier Boy? What are you doing in here?
I’m Cate’s imaginary friend from when she was a kid. Boyfriend, really. I taught her how to jerk off. Diddle that Skittle. Flick the bean. How to find that man in the canoe. She came like a faucet. She’d crank up the Jonas Brothers and she’d hump a Soldier Boy pillow. She’d raw-dog that pillow till she saw God.
Gross.
It was pretty romantic.
[Extends a fist-bump] Hell yeah, brother.
[Ignores fist-bump extension] Shut the fuck up.
Fuck you. She... she just didn’t like, she didn’t like Jonas Brothers, was all.
I know you. Yeah, you’re Cate’s new fuckboy. She really loves you. But whatever. Boys, they come and go. But she always comes back to a little... pillow talk. [Clicks tongue]
Fuck you. You’re a Russian agent is what you are.
Andre. Bigger shit going on right now.
What the hell you talking about?
Turns out you were radicalized by the Russians.
Fuck you. I’m no godless, dickless commie. I’m red-blooded. But not commie red. Red-white-and-blue red. I fart “The Star-Spangled Banner.”
You’re pretty fucking weird, dude.
Yeah? Knock knock. Who’s there? Go fuck your face.
Okay. Fine. Whatever.
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