Not very nice, John! I got a call from your ex-friend Mr. G this morning at 4:00 AM EST. I was fast asleep when the phone rang and when I picked it up, I hear all this sobbing, blithering and wailing going on. I figured it was a crank call because I can't make out any of the words except a few "eh's" every once in a while. Anyway, all of a sudden a chainsaw fires up (clearly piped) and he starts in with some sort of homage chant to a lost 346 child or something. I can tell from the slurred "speech" and burping that he's really on a bender. Then all of a sudden, there's sirens in the background, the phone gets dropped on the floor and I hear him screaming something like "f**k all of you guys! How would you feel if your friend tried to sell your son!" After a couple of gunshots, the saw stops and some woman picks up the phone. She's obviously totaled as well and proceeds to tell me about how he burst into a local Eskimo saloon earlier, babbling about how he just lost his Husky and needed a good sturdy Eskimo buffalo woman to cheer him up. As they carted the fool off to the pokey, she started propositioning me to take his place (she probably thought I was a local). I did ask here to describe herself: 64 years old, 320 lbs., lack-of-estrogen stubble, two teeth and a pierced eyebrow ring.
Some friend you are, Gyro!
