"Yeah, it was an epic sesh. We got a few minutes of footy on street, some mongo and slams, one cool dialogue about yesteryear with an ancient who definitely blew a few too many tubes."
"Did you get name on the ancient? Anything we can use from the dialogue? And please, in English."
"His name is Hans ... something, I'll get the bio, pretty screwy stuff, but yeah maybe."
"Okay, good notes, go ahead, fifteen hundred with pictures please. Anything else, clubs and music, anything not R-rated?"
"I got another letter from RB and Zack. Says here you're a 'worthless scumsucking pig, decadent thieving pile of albino warts,' think they stole some of that endearment from HT, and then said that if you don't send the thousand bucks you owe they'll ... ah, 'grind your bones into snuff,' and that, 'you'll wish you were born an iguana,' don't know what that means."
"No problem, I'll take care of it. Be a lot easier if they'd take a check."
Everybody laughs, hahaha.
"I wrote a poem."
The intern in the back offers.
"Okay, let's have it."
The intern recites.
"I am a renegade mentalist, a philosopher of fuck. The world is mine to dress, to undress, the cross is mine, desire."
She gets up, slaps her ass, and bows.
Everybody claps.
hi
interesting