I've been waiting seven days, Levaquin, for you to show up and get the job done. I keep looking around here in Studio 101° and I don't see you. It's hot and sweaty and, quite frankly, a little scary. I don't know these freaks writhing around in here. There's too much thumping bass, the drinks are watered down, and the strobe lights are giving me a migraine.
So while you're hanging back on the red carpet that leads into this feverish fiesta, just posing and pouting like the Bruno of antibiotics that you seem to be, I've slipped out the back and made a few phone calls.
There's this 81-year-old dude, Pen E. Cillin, who says he can get the job done. He's coming over and he's bringing some crazy pal called Clav Ulanicacid. They're a pretty hip duo, and perform under the stage name Augmentin. They don't like the scene at Studio 101° any more than I do, so they're going to start with private performances three times a day until we can get past the velvet rope at Club 98.6°.
Yeah, Levaquin, I know you're too sexy for Club 98.6°. News flash: No one there likes you, either. Leave us alone. We've got work to do.
Come on, Pen.
Hey, Pen, has anyone ever told you what a silver fox you are. Really? I am not surprised.