BUFFALO: Dude, I've just been told I have a 5% chance that I'll live.
BIRD: Well, don't blame me that you're on the CIA shit list. I mean, those fooklars have NO sense of humour whatsoever.
BUFFALO: How da fawk was I to know they'd tap our Skype? I mean, you and me, we're just shootin' the breeze, innit. Messin' with the pessin'. Rumping the trumpet.
BIRD: Jealousy, dude. There are some comedians out there that can't take our cult status. They'll ask you a few questions, take a few jugshots, shove a meerkat up yer arse then toss you back where you belong.
BUFFALO: You don't understand, I've been implicated. I'm heading for the state penal tensionary.
BIRD: Dude, you're innocent.
BUFFALO: I know, but they need someone to take a hit.
BIRD: A fall guy?
BUFFALO: You got it.
BIRD: I see. So the shit sandwich goes on...
BUFFALO: Jeez. I need this as much as I need another asshole. Maybe we should come clean about Marcel DeClercq and Stewart Sumner.
BIRD: It won't make any difference.
BUFFALO: But the intercepts...
BIRD: Hearsay. Coded messages at best.
BUFFALO: Dude, if I'm Marcel DeClercq...
BUFFALO: And you're Stewart Sumner...
BUFFALO: Then who are the Bird and Buffalo?
BIRD: Oh, yeah. That's a good one. Well... they might just be the guys that Marcel DeClercq and Stewart Sumner aspire to being when the constraints of a tyrannical imaginary delusionary non-participatory gyratory construct are set free.
BUFFALO: Or total impostors who deserve all the fame and recognition that comes their way.
BIRD: Or a satirical monolithic retrospective vision of the future in the past tense.
BUFFALO: Wotdafachenbach! You've got it, dude.
BIRD: Collateral thinking, doncha know.
BUFFALO: Rock on, Marcel and Stewie!
BIRD: Seize the whey!
BUFFALO: Arf, arf!