THE BIRD & BUFFALO HUMBLY APOLOGIZE FOR THEIR ABSENCE. PLIZ, NO MORE ABUSIVE EMAILS, K? WE FEEL YER FRUSTRATION BUT HEAVY CACKOW IS GOIN' DOWN & WE GOTTA DEAL WID IT, INNIT. ANYHOO... BACK IN DA LAND OF DA RELIVING...
BUFFALO: Birdy, you der?
BIRD: Freshly flocked and feathered, Buff.
BUFFALO: Remember my asshole buddy G-Force?
BIRD: The Mesomorph beefcake chap with OCD? The one who's always full mast?
BUFFALO: Yeah. He’s been gainfully unemployed for a while, but still working part-time as a weekend bouncer at some trendy singles bar in the upscale burbs. They let him flex his biceps in tight black t-shirts to lure in flocks of vacuous birds who get blind pissed drunk and rogered in the back seats of Camaros in the parking lot at closing time. Anyhoo, he's finally landed another gig in his chosen career field.
BIRD: Professional muff-diving?
BUFFALO: No, something to do with computers. “IT” or “ID” or some damn Freudian thing. He’s tried to explain it to me but it makes my head hurt. Ah, speak of the Devil. . .
G-FORCE: Dude, thanks for helping me find a job. You’re a real friend.
BUFFALO: So, you're gainfully employed for another 90 days, is it?
BIRD: Ninety days? What’s that about, then?
BUFFALO: Mandatory probation period. G-Hole invariably gets released on the 90th day, like Swiss clockwork, as he suffers from chronic hoof-and-mouth disease.
BIRD: Is that like a permanent yeast infection?
BUFFALO: No, it's much worse. He can’t keep either his trousers or his pie hole zipped, and every time he opens his gob he puts his foot in it. So, after three moons, the boss puts his boot up G-Hole's bleedin' ass.
G-FORCE: (sighs) Yeah, I’m my own worst enema. Hey, dude, can you spot me a Finn until payday?
BUFFALO: Yeah, Huck Finn. I thought I warned you about Finns. Find yourself a nice girl with bipolar disorder instead. Much safer. And try to save some jack this time instead of blowing it all on she-male hookers. No offense, Birdy.
BIRD: None taken, you great shaggy, nappy-headed drunken horny brute.
BUFFALO: Look, G-Plug, buy yourself a case of Vaseline Intensive Hand Care Lotion and a twelve pack of Puffs. Use your imagination to fuel your sexual fantasies instead of employing it to work yourself into a suicidal lather, you maniacal bugger.
G-FORCE: (sighs) Yeah, I know, I've got to cut back on watching Internet porn on the job, and stop thinking about pussy all the time.
BIRD: Good Lord. Is it true what Buff says, that you work with a perpetually throbbing woody?
G-FORCE: It comes and goes. Speaking of which, I’ve got to get to my bouncing job.
BIRD: Tell me, Geefours, do you literally bounce rowdies out of the bar?
G-FORCE: Depends on how rowdy they are, and how big. The little squirts bounce real good. The big galoots don't bounce very well, unless you fling them off the roof.
BIRD: Ah, yes, I see. What about the birds then?
G-FORCE: Oh, hell, anybody can bounce a girl, but we hardly ever do, except for the biker chicks. Of course it takes three or four of us to toss one of them bull dykes into the alley.
BIRD: Why the alley?
G-FORCE: It pisses 'em off no end if we toss ‘em out the front door, and then they beat the shit out of our customers in the parking lot.
BUFFALO: So when does the new gig start?
G-FORCE: Monday morning. I’m dreading it. I have to be there at 8 AM and I usually don’t get to bed until around 4 AM.
BIRD: Blimey, how do you do it?
BUFFALO: G-Plug swills Red Bull like you and me drink Hobgoblin Ale, Birdy.
BIRD: But wouldn’t that cause your heart to explode after a while?
G-FORCE: Not if you know how to pace yourself.
BUFFALO: Right. . . when did you ever pace yourself?
G-FORCE: So, Buff, ya got any advice for me, for the new gig, like?
BUFFALO: Yeah. Keep your ears open, your mouth shut, your nose to the grindstone, don't be dealing women on the clock, and for God's sake don't tell them about the alien abductions, the cattle mutilations, or that secret deal with the Venusians. I'd leave out the chicken sodomy, too.
G-FORCE: Wait, I wanna write that down. Got a scratch pad and a pencil?
BUFFALO: Here’s a ballpoint pen. Write it on your Freddy so you won’t lose it.
BIRD: Arf, arf!
BUFFALO: X-rated film at eleven.
G-FORCE: This isn’t working, dude. I keep puncturing myself. You got a magic marker?
FOR ANYONE WHO WISHES TO PROVIDE G-FORCE WITH A MAGIC MARKER, PLEASE CONTACT HIM AT THE FOLLOWING WATERING HOLE: Gemail@example.com