Ohhhhhh yeah. Hear that pussy PURR. THAT'S how you hotwire a car, Daisy!

Yeah, well . . .

I'm just doing it better.

Put that phone away before I eat it. Now, watch and learn, I've done this, like, a bajillion times . . .

Agh, what the *fuck*?!

You are *way* too young to be into that shit!

*Whatever*. When *I* was *your age*, I was--

Oh my god. I'm arguing with a kid. What is this? I'm arguing with a fuckin' *kid*!

Man, I have *gotta* look at my priorities.

. . . And, y'know, THAT is why I am not allowed in the state of Alabama.

I can buy alcohol and dirty magazines and cigarettes and YOU can't so who's the REAL winner here?

Do I know you?

( A laugh. ) *What girls*?

*No*, put your phone away and *listen*!

Are you kidding me? How old are you, like thirteen? You're barely older than the millennium!

Shit, you're barely older than the millennium . . .

What? What is . . . ? What're you doing? You just opened your mouth and said nothing.

*Move over*, kid. I'm gonna teach you one of the most important life lessons you're ever gonna learn: The beautiful art of hotwiring a car.

I worry about the next generation. These kids can't even fuckin' hotwire a car??? Amateurs.

Hey, *relax*. Look at the positives here - If you die it'd only take five minutes to replace you!

A big sigh. "Shit, I dunno. Like . . . Fifty? A bajillion? Way too many. Besides, the dude's . . . Y'know, *foreign*. They've got totally different names over . . . There! I bet *I* coulda got this . . . V thing outta him, I mean, if *I'd* asked. You were just *lucky* I told you to ask, that's all."

Fuck yeah. ( Beginning to undress: ) So, like, *right here*, or . . . ?

Why is everyone talking about a fuckin' egg???

Oh, fast enough, baby.

Wh-- What? What egg?

( Waggling his eyebrows, grinning. Totally misunderstanding the question. )

I love 'em.

What egg?

Frowning. "Dude, that's not a name. That's a fucking letter. You haven't worked out shit!"

Ha-ha . . . Wanna find out?

Nice ass.

Woah that's crazy I love the outdoors too I've never even been in a house before.

'Fuck, man . . . ! How long have you been there? You've gotta start, like, announcing yourself when you go into rooms!' A heavy sigh. 'Sure, sure, let's hear it. This *better be good*.'

Maybe. How do I know that you're telling the truth though? If you can get it out of him, I want him to tell me himself.

Oh yeah? I'd like to see that. Y--

( Leaning back. Forgetting the barstools don't have backs; he nearly falls, but catches the edge of the bar and just about hanging in there. He pretends he hasn't lost his cool. )

. . . You're on.

Honestly he's kinda annoying. Like, he's always all up in our shit, y'know? Like if you vanished right now, it's cool, I'd assume you were banging some dude or something, see you back home in a couple weeks, right? But no. This dude, he's gotta get *involved*. I mean, we don't even know his *name*.