“Well that was gratuitous”

“Too much cursing? Too much testoterone? Too hard on the lacrosse playing Ivy League country club asshole? The dude’s a salesman who’s afraid of his customers. He’s got to get beyond that.”

“Give him a break. He’s twenty five years old. And the tighter spreads are technical.”

“Oh yeah, totally. What do you want to do for lunch?”

“Wings?”

“It’s no wonder you’re fat. But I do believe that the technical issues are because everyone believes my story.”

“Falafel? You mean the story that’s not true.”

“Not true yet. Yeah, falafel. You got to pick it up though. I got to work this bid list from Wellington.”

---

“You know, you’re a lot like that guy.”

“Who? Bill?”

“No, that dude from Austria.”

“What?”

“You know, you’re kind of like him.”

“Like I’d build a sound proof dungeon in my basement and rape my daughter for twenty years?”

“Well, I’m not saying that, really. More like, his mustache kind of looks like one you could grow. You know.”