It's no secret around the PNC Campus that everyone loves Skip Walker and long time readers of this site are quite vocal in letting everyone on the staff know that they consider Skip Walker "best of breed."  It seems that no matter how hard all of the other writers work on their updates, regardless of how much sweat, urine, or stolen jokes we put into it, everyone still loves Skip Walker.  In fact, we're quite certain that Skip Walker could post a picture of him eating feces and everyone would still think it's the greatest thing since Magnum P.I.  But we're not bitter.  As comedy writers, we're dead if we can't evolve.


Having said all that, yesterday really got me thinking and in between bouts of beating a priest with a claw hammer, I did a bit of brainstorming.  How can I, the greatest writer in my own mind, achieve even further greatness and satiate the populace at large?  The obvious answer, aside from cutting off my hands so as to be unable to write and to short-circuit my brain so as to be unable to think of new ways to somehow write without hands, was to run for Congress.  However, that proved to be too much work since I sometimes have a hard time controlling my addiction to birth control pills.  So, the second most obvious answer was to combine two great things into one, similar to when you have intercourse with twins, assuming that both twins are really great and in no way mediocre.  Or maybe like when you find a pack of gum that you really like and it turns out to be on sale which affords you the luxary of eating two pieces at once instead of just one.

Now, you may be asking yourself, "Randy, what two things in the world could you possibly want to combine in order to be able to create something so much greater than your current greatness level?"  If you're asking yourself that question, you should probably leave now because if you haven't been able to figure out what I am going to segue into by now, perhaps your mother made the wrong choice in throwing away that "free abortion" coupon that she had.  The bottom line is, people like Skip Walker.  I also like Skip Walker.  Me picking up the phone and calling Skip Walker makes for a very easy update.  So I called Skip Walker.

What follows is the first in a new series that I like to call "Rappin' With Skip."  In these series of updates, I call Skip Walker on the phone and we simply chit-chat about this or that.  Sometimes we chit-chat about both.  You, as the reader, get to partake in these conversations as an eavesdropper-after-the-fact, which is kind of creepy like those old men who hang out in the library or people who revel in their enjoyment of constipation.  Trust me, they exist.  And so, we now bring the heat.

Randy: Greetings and salutations, Skip Walker, my caucasian male person of trust who stands roughly six foot and weighs some 185 pounds.

Skip: Christ, Randy, it's 3:00 in the morning.  Are you drunk again?

Randy: By no means, Skip Walker, have I imbibed in any liquid containing any measure of alcoholic content.

Skip: Are you in jail?  I told you that I wasn't going to bail you out anymore.

Randy: Oh, Skip, stop being silly.  This is merely a new idea that I had for an update.  I figured that I could call you and we could banter back and forth until hilarity ensued.  I would then force an illegal immigrant to transcribe it for me and post it online.

Skip: So, basically what you're telling me is that you've run out of ideas and now you're trying to drag me down to your level so that I can do all of the hard work for you?

Randy: Skip, that's hurtful, but also true.  Once again, your keen sense of wit has prevailed where my quest for stealing all the good jokes from other humor sites has failed.  The truth is, people like you, Skip.  I like you.  I just thought we'd make a great team like Abbot and Costello or peanut butter and jelly.

Skip: More like anger and hate.

Randy: Anger and hate?  Never heard of them.  Do they tour much?

Skip: *sigh* Nevermind.


Randy: Hey Skip, do you remember when people used to say "2, 4, 6, 8, who do we appreciate?"  How come they always said the other team's name as opposed to someone like their mother or perhaps Optimus Prime from The Transformers?  You know, someone that you could really appreciate.

Skip: Because that's the whole point of the cheer.  To acknowledge the other team's effort during the game.  Not like you'd know.

Randy: What do you mean?

Skip: Because you suck at sports.  Hell, the only time that you were ever picked anything but last for a team was when the cool kids would hold a contest to see who could get picked last, at which point you would invariably get picked first.

Randy: I got picked first lots of times!

Skip: Your stint with the Special Olympics baton team notwithstanding...

Randy: Hey Skip, remember that time that me and the guys set you up on that blind date with the heavyset chick?  But then she turned out to be a guy dressed up in a fat suit?


Skip: Yes, and I forgot to thank you for that.

Randy: Christ, talk about awkward!  I mean, you almost had sex with a fat chick!

Skip: But it turned out that it was a guy...

Randy: Right!  You really dodged a bullet there.

Skip: It's statements like that that make me wonder why someone hasn't done the world a favor and killed you yet.

Randy: Hey Skip, I got a great idea the other day when I was driving.  Do you want to hear it?

Skip: I can only imagine.  And I can only imagine that no matter what I say here, you're going to tell me anyway.

Randy: Right, so you know how I wind up taking very long road trips by myself all the time?  Well, sometimes I get bored and a little lonely...

Skip: I'd wager that much of your life is like that.

Randy: ...so I got this great idea to put one of those "How's My Driving?" stickers on the back of my car with my cell phone number listed on it.  When I start getting a little bored, I begin to drive like an asshole and the calls come flying in.  Now, there's always someone to talk to on the open road.  I was thinking about patenting it.  What do you think?

Skip: I think the world would benefit if you were sterile and/or dead.  Preferably both.

Randy: I'm glad you think it's such a great idea.  I'm pretty proud of it myself.

Skip: Yeah, look, I have to get going.  My, uh, call waiting is beeping or something.

Randy: No worries.  I can hold on.  Go ahead and click over.

Skip: And I really need to take more than the recommended dosage of venlafaxine before I have to deal with you again at work in the morning.

Randy: Ok, well, it was great talking with you Skip Walker.  I can't wait to do this all over again!

Skip: I can't wait until I stop breathing.  Good bye.

And that concludes the first edition of Rappin' With Skip.  I apologize that the conversation was so short this time around but I figured that since I wrote so much introductary stuff, you'd forgive me for the brevity of the rest of it.  I look forward to talking with Skip again very soon and sharing with you our interactions on a wide variety of topics.  Go on, read it again and get double the pleasure.

This may come as a bit of a surprise to many of the people reading this but you and me aren't very much alike.  You see, as the holidays come in and stampede over us like a herd of fat people at a free bake sale, many people are spending their available time revving up their holiday spirit and goodwill engines.  Those of us in the P.Net offices, however, aren't so lucky.  While almost everyone we know is taking time off work and planning vacations or holiday getaways to spend time with friends or family, we are actually hard at work casing houses and planning to rob those same people along with their friends and family.  And it seems like our work is never done.

At least, that's how it used to be.  This year, for whatever reason, just seems different.  Maybe it's because my venlafaxine prescription finally expired or because my obsession with philately started paying off -- I don't really know.  What I do know is that, for once, the staff here is finally starting to take time out and really enjoy the holidays, despite limited to access to illicit drugs and midget Venezuelan prostitutes who do backflips on demand.  Since holidays are meant to be shared, I figured that this would be a perfect opportunity to call my good friend Skip Walker and rap with him about Thanksgiving.

Randy: Hello Skip Walker, my bestest comrade and friend to all of the water fowl in Michigan.

Skip: What the.. Randy, are you off your pills again?

Randy: Actually, yes, thanks for noticing.

Skip: Like it's terribly difficult.  You're so retarded that you being off your meds is about as inconspicuous as a muslim at a baptism.

Randy: But muslims don't go to baptisms, Skip.

Skip: Christ, you can be so dense sometimes.  I hope this call has a point.  I have a lot of things to do between now and tomorrow.

Randy: My, what a convenient segue!  That's precisely why I was calling!  Do you know what tomorrow is?

Skip: Yeah, hopefully the day that my restraining order kicks in.

Randy: No, silly.  It's Thanksgiving!

Skip: Yes, which also explains why you tried to make me work a double shift.

Randy: Skip, did you know that Thanksgiving started off as a Spanish tradition celebrated in Mexico in 1550?

Skip: No it didn't.

Randy: It turns out that the word "thanks" was actually Spanish for "herpes" and the village whore would give it to all the children once a year if they were bad.

Skip: Randy, that's absolutely the most absurd thing that I have ever heard.  Aside from your theory of relativity, I mean.   Thanksgiving is an American tradition that was first celebrated by the Pilgrims and Indians.

Randy: What's wrong about my relativity theory?

Skip: Aside from being wholly incorrect?  Everything else.

Randy: Skip, if I'm so wrong, then why do they call Philidephia the "city of brotherly love?"

Skip: Look, idiot, the theory of relativity has nothing to with brothers, sisters, or any other kinds of relatives or family members.   It has to do with the laws of motion.

Randy: Well, that's just dumb.  Show me a textbook that says what you say.

Skip: Christ, you moron.  No such textbook exists because no one would bother wasting time trying to disprove something so stupidly absurd.

Randy: So you're saying that it might be right?

Skip: I'm saying that I don't think your brain formed right when you were a child.

Randy: Well, you know what Skip?  I'm at a loss for words.   You've left me as stunned as an Iranian college student in a UCLA library.

Skip: I'd wish you were at a loss for a lot more than words.  Like breathing.

Randy: Skip, what's something that you're thankful for?

Skip: I'm thankful that this conversation is almost over.

Randy: I'm thankful for creme pies.  I don't eat them but I'm thankful that they are there.

Skip: I hope you choke on a neckbone.

Randy: They see me shoppin', they hatin', I'm coppin, they tryin' to stop me from buyin' turkey.

Skip: Um, what?

Randy: Tryin' to catch me buying turkey, tryin' to catch me buying turkey!

Skip: I think your brain cells have gone on strike.

Randy: Hey Skip, you know what else I am thankful for?  That I was never a Toys'R'Us kid.  Nothing good ever came out of being a child star.

Skip: Ok, well, that's great.  I, uh, have to run.  I have an overdose of estazolam with my name on it.

Randy: I hope you have a great Thanksgiving, Skip!  I'll try not to stop by but, you know, if I am in the neighborhood...

Skip: Oh Christ, please don't.

Randy: Great!  See you tomorrow then!

With that all wrapped up, from the staff here at the P.Net Campus, have a happy Thanksgiving.  Unless you're alone, in which case you'll probably be all depressed and crying into your Hungry Man turkey dinner.   Also, if you're not American, you are likely not celebrating Thanksgiving anyway, so I sort of wasn't wishing you guys anything.   I mean, I'm not hating but since you're not allowed to celebrate, I really don't like being wasteful.  Also, if you are planning on attacking the US, tomorrow is probably a great day since we'll all be stuffed from dinner and either watching football or beating our spouses.  Make America #1 this holiday season!

As January continues it's snails pace to completion and the rest of America continues to deal with it's post-holiday depression, there isn't a whole lot going on around the P.Net campus these days.   This has left us with a lot more time to focus on the really important things in life like our addiction to painkillers and intense fascination with whales.  But enough talk about Rush Limbaugh.  It's days like today which make me happy that someone invented the phone because I can then use that phone to dial my bestest pal Skip "Un-American Werewolf" Walker for a little chat about nothing and the things that ail me.

Randy: Hello Skip Walker, my good aquaintance and Saudi Arabia's number one rap superstar!  I have great news!

Skip: Please tell me that you've contracted some new, incurable disease which will shortly leave you with the inability to speak or interact with others.

Randy: No, silly.  I'd like to congratulate you on being the latest inductee into my "Friend Hall Of Fame!"

Skip: You've got to be kidding me.

Randy: Not at all.  I wanted a place where my true friends would be immortalized for the world to see.

Skip: And let me guess, by "latest" inductee you mean first inductee.

Randy: Well, first inductee of 2007.  I did a few dry runs with some imaginary characters that I made up to be certain that the process worked like it was supposed to.

Skip: I wish that I could say that I was honored but I'd rather drive a swiss army knife clean through my wrist than be associated with you.

Randy: But wait, the fun isn't over.  In addition to this silver plaque, you also get this Friendship bag chock full of neat stuff.

Skip: But this plaque is just tinfoil with writing on it and this "friendship bag" is just a ziploc baggie full of plastic army men.

Randy: I know!  You just go on and keep reaping the benefits of being friends with me.

Skip: I'd like to forcefeed you these army men one by one in the hopes that you choke on the guy with the bazooka.

Do not swallow this man.

Randy: Hey Skip, why is it that you never just see one retard?

Skip: I'm talking to one right now.

Randy: No, no.  I mean real retards.  Why is it that you never see just one out by himself?  You know, they're always traveling in groups and packed tightly into vans and small school buses.  Do you think they herd them?

Skip: Herd them?  Are you insane?

Randy: I'm serious.  There is always the one non-retard and they always seem to be leading the pack.  You know, like a shepard.  I just think that's kind of cruel to treat them like cattle.  Retards are people too, even if they look funny.

Skip: Randy, that has to be one of the most tasteless things that I think you've ever said to me.

Randy: I bet I could top it.

Skip: I'm not so sure you--

Randy: Want to buy one of my Saddam t-shirts?  They're a little tight around the neck but they sure do hang well.

Skip: I stand corrected.

Randy: Skip, you know what I hate?

Skip: Common sense?

Randy: No, those "We Remember" 9/11 bumper stickers.  You know, the ones with pictures of the flag on them.  Sometimes they also have eagles and firemen, with the occasional picture of a fireman holding an eagle.  You want to talk about tasteless!

Skip: How on earth is a 9/11 sticker tasteless?

Randy: "We remember?"  Come on, that's a slap in the face to every single elderly person or alzheimers patient on the planet.  They can't remember yesterday let alone 9/11.

Skip: I can't believe that I am even listening to you right now.

Randy: No wonder people hate America so much.  What, with all of us and our "good memories" so blatantly mocking those who have dimished mental faculties.

Skip: Whatever substance you're on, I don't think it's legal.

Randy: And while we're talk about the backs of cars, you know what else I hate?

Skip: I can only guess.

Randy: Christians.

Skip: For the love of God!

Randy: Oh, it's not that.  I have no problem with their choice of religion.  It's that christians can't drive.

Skip: They what?

Randy: They can't drive.  I swear, it's like that fish symbol stuck to the trunk is a merit badge for poor motor skills.  Granted, Jesus didn't exactly have a stellar track record when it came to driving, so I guess it would stand to reason that his followers suck too.

May also double as a belt buckle.

Skip: What's left of your brain continues to amaze me.

Randy: Oh, that's so typical of you Mexicans.

Skip: What?  You know I'm not Mexican.

Randy: Oh sure, deny it just like you deny the holocaust.

These guys also deny that they are mexican.

Skip: Deny -- what?  What is your problem?

Randy: Oh, nothing.  I just wanted to make sure that I had your atttention.

Skip: My attention?  What the hell?

Randy: Yeah, I just wanted to be the first to wish you a Merry Christmas.

Skip: Uh, you're a little late.  Christmas was last month.

Randy: No, for 2007.  So, Merry Christmas!

Skip: Oh for the love of -- I'm going to hang up.  I'm going to see if it's possible for me to disconnect my central nervous system before you can find the redial button.

Randy: Ok, Skip Walker!  Have fun!  I'll call you in a few days!

As spring rolls around these parts, work tends to hold a little less interest and the PNC Campus becomes a bit dull and boring.  The weather is not quite nice enough to be at the beach but not quite cold enough to keep the crazy protesters away.  As a means to pass the time, I decided to call up my good friend Skip "Wip Skalker" Walker and shoot the breeze (and some college kids) while rapping about the current events of the week.

Randy: Hello Skip Walker, my brother from another mother.

Skip: Oh christ, I knew I shouldn't have answered the phone.  This had better be important.  You're not in jail again, are you?

Randy: Nope.  I'm as free as the 5 cent candy at the grocery store.

Skip: Those aren't free, moron.  Besides, I told you that I wasn't going to bail you out anymore.  So what do you want?

Randy: Oh, you know, just to talk.  The weather, sports, some indiscriminate east coast college.  Whatever comes to mind, really.

Skip: Oh no, you're not going to talk about Virginia Tech are you?

Randy: I wasn't, but since you apparently want to talk about it..

Skip: Randy, you can't be serious!  That is a national tragedy.  People are still grieving.

Randy: Oh, come on, give me a little bit of credit.  I wouldn't make light of something as tragic as the shooting at Virginia Tech.  Oh wait, yes I would.

Skip: That's because you are a horrible human being.

Randy: Horrible?  People are always saying that I'm horrible.  Look, if a guy wants to talk about current events or perhaps wants to give his lymphoma stricken friend a shirt with the zodiac sign for cancer, why does this make me horrible?  People kept telling me that the shirt was in bad taste, but I didn't see them buying him any presents.  Haters.

I bought this man a gift also. See how happy he is?

Skip: He was sick and you were making light of his condition.

Randy: No, that's where you're wrong.  I was celebrating the fact that he was born in early July.  He just happens to have some crazy disease with the same name as his zodiac sign.  That's not my fault.  Get your mind out of the gutter.

Skip: You really are an asshole.

Randy: Since you brought up Virginia Tech, I find the whole incident to be completely deplorable.

Skip: I'll admit to being surprised that you feel so... humanely.

Randy: I find it deplorable because it's obviously a blatant attempt by the Asian-American community to up their rankings in the America "crime by race" statistic.

Skip: And there goes my surprise right down the toilet.

Randy: Look, for as long as there has been crime in America, the Asian peoples have largely gotten the short end of the stick.  This is just their way of showing that they can compete.

Skip: Once again, you manage to leave me speechless with your inanity.

Randy: White people have their upper class crime like big business and stock scams.  They've also managed to corrupt the entire politcal process, though I've got to hand it to the few other minorities who are currently working to level that playing field.  The black people have their ghettos and the Mexicans have their drug smuggling and delicious food.  Do you see my point?  Where does that leave the Asian peoples in the pie chart of American crime?

This man is probably committing a crime just by breathing.

Skip: School shootings, apparently.

Randy: I love how every time there is a shooting, every one is always surprised at the person who did it.

Skip: Well, these kinds of things upset a lot of people and are rather shocking.

Randy: Shocking?  Hardly.  Who the hell is surprised that a depressed loner with no friends is the type to go on a shooting spree?  Idiots, that's who.  That's like being surprised at seeing a Honda Civic drive through Chinatown.

Skip: You're really laying on the Asian stereotype humor.

Randy: And I haven't even made a "small dick" joke yet!

Skip: You do realize that you're going to hell, right?

Randy: In addition, there is always that group of people who "suspected that he would do something like this."  Well, if you suspected it, why the hell didn't you do anything about it?  And while the media always tends to describe these kids as loners, after they shoot up a school, there sure are a lot of people that come forward afterwards to talk about them, don't they?

Skip: It's nearly impossible to predict something like this.

Randy: I'll tell you who's probably pretty happy at this latest shooting spree though.

Skip: I should know better than to play along by now but.. who?

Randy: Goth kids.  Assuming, of course, that they are able to be happy about anything.  Columbine is no longer #1 and no longer does America fear the eye shadow and the black trenchcoats.  Now it's stir fry and bad play writing.  To goths everywhere, let's break out the mascara and go celebrate!   We'll plan a sleepover in a cemetary or something.

Hey dude, I call the big crypt!

Skip: Every time I think you can't get any lower, you somehow manage to.

Randy: I heard that Cho Seung-hui also sent a package containing some videos and photos to MSNBC.  How pathetic.

Skip: That's not pathetic.  Most often those tapes are a cry for help or, in the very least, help authorities provide insight into why he did it.

Randy: He made the videos using Quicktime, Skip.  Quicktime.  Heck, I'd be pissed too if I spent four years at a tech school and the best I could do was make Quicktime videos.  I'm not saying that I would go around shooting up the school but we all handle our problems differently.  Maybe I'd just ask for a tuition reimbursement or something.

Skip: There isn't anything wrong with Quicktime...

Randy: I bet the guys over at MSNBC had a hell of a time playing the videos.   "These won't play on my Windows!!"  It wasn't until some intern piped up in the back and said that they needed to install iTunes because he once did the setup of his sister's ipod.  I heard he got promoted after that.

Skip: Ok, you know what?  I think that I am going to end this conversation before you manage to offend anyone else.  Although I'm not sure that there is anyone else left to offend.

Randy: Sure there is.  What about the Australians?  I once knew this hooker who I thought was australian.

Skip: Why is that?

Randy: Because every time I saw her she was coming up from down under.  Zing!

Skip: That does it.  I am removing this phone from my ear and hanging up.

Randy: Good bye Skip Walker!  Live to die another day!

The world can be a cold, lonely place, particularly if you live in Siberia during the winter months and have no friends. While I certainly don't fit into either category, I will admit that my life has been a little more hollow since Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac bit the dust. I guess that is what I get for naming my pet roosters after failed financial institutions. Hey, to my credit, it sounded like a good idea at the time. If you've been a reader of this site for any length of time that extends more than the past two days, you know that in times of severe social withdraw, there is only one man to turn to: Skip "Cuban Missile Crisis" Walker. It's been a while, so I decided to pick up the phone and dial my old friend to see what's shaking. (Hint: still Michael J. Fox.)

Randy: Hello Skip Walker, Somalia's most infamous bread maker. What's new?

Skip: A migraine that started around the same time that I picked up the phone.

Randy: Weird. Do you think that you might be allergic?

Skip: Allergic to what?

Randy: The phone.

Skip: No, just to your voice.

Randy: How can you be allergic to a sound?

Skip: How could you not have been killed off by natural selection?

Randy: When I was younger, I used to drink from the containers that were under the sink.

Skip: Which explains a lot and yet somehow still fails to answer my question.

Randy: Hey Skip, speaking of questions, I got something. What does one plus one equal?

Skip: Two?

Randy: Well, what if I said three?

Skip: Then I would say that it's good to know that the harsh winter months haven't dulled your stupidity.

Randy: Yeah, whatever it was that you just said because my answer was also two but my wife seems to think that the answer is three. I have no idea what that might mean other than she needs to study up on her arithmetic again.

Skip: I think that I see what is going on here.

Randy: OK, Captain Bifocals, please fill me in because I don't have a clue.

Skip: You really don't know what's going on? I mean, I am having a very hard time believing that it actually happened but it still should be pretty obvious, even to you.

Randy: Sure, I totally know what's going on but I would rather waste my time in a completely irrelevant conversation because deep down inside, I am secretly some kind of gay college professor who loves to talk on the phone about nothing for long periods of time.

Skip: *sigh*, OK. Let's go over this in a more detailed manner. Did she mention to you that she was late?

Randy: Yeah, she mentioned that out of the blue and shortly thereafter, I went to Target and bought her a new alarm clock, so problem solved. It's this little cartoon alligator that meows when the time comes. I mean, that makes absolutely no sense whatsoever but neither does shopping at Target.

Skip: OK, did she mention anything about missing her cycle?

Randy: Yep, she brought that up too but I told her before we got serious that it was either me or the Harley Davidson. She can't have both. One of us has a V12 engine and the other is a motorcycle. Besides, I already sold the bike to my friend, Peggi, and I don't have the money to buy it back. I'm saving up to buy some Pokemon collectibles.

Skip: Christ, you really don't get it, do you?

Randy: Get what you're talking about? No. You seem to just be asking me a bunch of pointless questions about my shopping habits and choice in vehicles.

Skip: OK, let's try this one more time. Has she mentioned that she's going to start eating for two?

Randy: Yeah, but the psychologist said that the schizophrenia should be gone by now so I dismissed her ramblings like I always do because she is a woman and they don't have anything important to say. Besides, if it's not gone, that was a waste of a whole lot of really good drugs.

Skip: You know, I see that we could dance around this topic all day and you still wouldn't grasp what we're talking about so I am just going to put this bluntly: Your wife is pregnant.

Randy: Hey, don't call her names. I mean, I don't even know what "pregnant" means but it sounds like kind of schoolyard insult. They never make any sense.

Skip: I assume it's yours?

Randy: My wife? Yeah, she's mine.

Skip: I was referring to the baby.

Randy: What baby?

Skip: The baby that you said might be coming.

Randy: I'm not sure what conversation you're listening to but I didn't say anything about a baby.

Skip: But we're talking about your wife being pregnant.

Randy: What does that have to do with anything?

Skip: Do you even know anything about biology?

Randy: I know that it rhymes with technology, kind of.

Skip: I see that the public school system has failed us yet again. I'm having a hard time wrapping my mind around the fact that someone would willingly have sex with you.

Randy: What sort of nonsense is this?

Skip: I'm talking about intercourse. You and your wife. Doing it.

Randy: What does that have to do with anything?

Skip: How else do you think she got pregnant?

Randy: The stork.

Skip: You moron, the stork myth isn't real. Seriously, do I even need to get into this?

Randy: Get into what?

Skip: A baby is formed when a man and woman perform copulation.

Randy: They go down to Kinko's together?

Skip: Jesus, no. When a man inserts his penis into a woman's vagina, hopefully a woman that he really cares deeply about.

Randy: Oh my god, that is so gross.

Skip: What, the penis and vagina part?

Randy: No, the part where the man cares about the woman. That kind of stuff never happens.

Skip: Says who?

Randy: I lost my virginity to a hooker.

Skip: Which surprises no one.

Randy: Yeah, she moonlighted as a contortionist.

Skip: I didn't see that twist coming.

Randy: Neither did I but I rather enjoyed it.

Skip: *sigh* You do know what all of this means, right?

Randy: Well, if what you've said is true, then yeah. I'm going to have to take the "room for rent" sign out of my wife's vagina. Do you know how hard it was to get something visible and neon up there in the first place?

Skip: Neon?

Randy: Yeah, I went all out. I honestly didn't think the place would ever get rented -- it doesn't have much of a view. Or any windows at all for that matter. Maybe I should have second-guessed myself with the economic slump and all. People are desperate.

Skip: Are we really talking about your wife like this?

Randy: Not we, you. You brought it up. I've done nothing but defend her honor this entire phone call.

Skip: I suppose some congratulations should be in order then but I still am having trouble believing it. You do realize that this changes everything, right?

Randy: Of course I realize that. I mean, I know that we can no longer have game night now.

Skip: I know that I shouldn't ask but, here goes. Why can't you still have game night?

Randy: Well, the game that we used to play involved us pushing each other down the stairs. I'm still up for it but I have a feeling that she's going to have reservations now.

Skip: Some day, I will learn to listen to my instinct and not ask follow-up questions.

Randy: That would make for a pretty short conversation.

Skip: That's something I pray for every single time you call me.

Randy: They say that miracles happen all the time.

Skip: Apparently, because I was pretty certain that you were gay.

Randy: I trust that you mean happy.

Skip: Sure. Look, I have to run.

Randy: And I have the runs!

Skip: Classy. I'll see you around the office.

Randy: OK, Skip Walker. Remember to keep it nothing less than 100% real!