BUFFALO: Never take a 54 mg time release Ritalin capsule at 3 in the afternoon, even if you ARE falling asleep at the wheel on I-94 driving to Detroit Metro Airport. You'd be better off to take the first exit, find a Starbuck's, and drink an entire pot of coffee so heavily caffeinated that it would bring Lazarus back to life. The caffeine will wear off in four or five hours but Ritalin is for-fooking-ever, sports fans. Nine hours and 21 minutes and I'm still totally stoked, and tempted to drive north all night to the bloody bridge just to see the sun rise behind the Grand Hotel on the off chance that Britney Spears might be there in a sheer negligee listening to variations on a theme by Paganini on a goddamned music box. What the HELL was I thinking?
BIRD: And you say that was the last you heard of him, Sparky?
SPARKY: That was the last telephone conversation we had, man.
BIRD: And that was 11 hours ago, and he never made it to the airport?
SPARKY: Exactamundo, man. That is way not groovy.
BIRD: And he didn't mention anything unusual before he left the Carfax Arms?
SPARKY: Nope. Only that "real men don't kill women, but I bet they eat quiche".
BIRD: Omigod!
SPARKY: It's the trank talking, man. It don't mean zebrashit.
BIRD: No, Sparky, you don't understand, the auld Buff LOVES quiche. Try him on his cellphone again. If you get thru, tell him... tell him... I was wrong, it was Jenny Agutter in Logan's Run, not Jane Seymour. The daft bugger hates to lose.
SPARKY: Come again, man?
BIRD: Just tell him. Lazarus, Britney, Paganini... The unholy trinity. Jeez, I hope we're not too late...
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