Last week, on clean lampshades
Today is, of course, Tom’s birthday. This is a very nice reception we’re throwing here. [Hustler boos.] Settle down, now. The wet bar is free. And it’s especially wet after Jark peed on it. [Laughter.] So, let me make the obligatory toasts. First of all, I want to toast Tom’s mom because that is one heck of a lady. I want to toast the birthday cake because it sucks ass and it deserves to be set on fire. I want to toast—hmm, let’s see—Tom. May you live forever, but not too forever because that would just suck ass. And I think the birthday cake knows a little something about sucking ass because it sucked ass. You have to understand something. That birthday cake was horrible. I hated it. It was moist, it tasted like urine … oh ∗∗ no. Jark didn’t pee on that too, did he? [Jark assents that he did.] Oh ∗∗ it. I hate this birthday party. I hate pee-cake, man. ∗∗ing pee-cake. I’d get myself a drink if Jark hadn’t urinated on all the glasses. Seriously, what the hell? What’s up with Jark? What, he can’t control his bladder? There’s medication for that, you know. You know why there’s medication, right? Because cake doesn’t taste so goddamn good when you pee on it. Tom, next time you throw a stupid birthday party, here’s a hint: don’t invite Jark. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need some Listerine now to wipe out the taste of the damn pee-cake. [Guy hands me a glass of Listerine.] What? Hey. Thanks. [Gargles and spits on Jark.] Oh hell no. That was Jark’s pee again, ladies and gentlemen. ∗∗ this.