“HeLLo, mY nAme is SiD/DaVe/FreD/BoB!”
“Who the hell said that?” asked Dave.
“Not me,” said Bob.
“Not me,” said Fred.
“Uhh, where am I?” asked a thoroughly addled Sid goggling at the man clutching his stomach.

URK! “I/he think I/he is going to ralph!”

“Why does this always happen to us?” implored Dave.
“Hey, isn’t that pizza?” asked Fred.
“What a bad trip,” shuddered Bob.
“Oh, my God, not on the Nikes!” screeched Sid.
“I lOvE tHe sMelL oF pUKe iN tHe mOrninG!”

“!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” went Dave, Fred, and Bob. Sid clutched his head.

“He/I have to say, technically, it’s not morning now.”

“Stuff it,” said Dave. “Did you hear that? Who the hell was that?”
“TeD!”
“Damn! Not another one!” cried Dave.
“Room’s getting crowded,” grumbled Bob.
“Hey, Ted, you got any pizza on you?” asked Fred.

“Uh-oh. I/you think I/you need to call the head shrinker.” Speed dial was pressed.

Screeching to a halt at the curb was a truck emblazoned with the legend: Witch Doctor 4 Less.