What is wrong with you people?
Just settling down to analyze a film when I get a call from Jean. Apparently an ex of mine showed up all drunk and full of pills and promptly became incoherent on the bathroom floor. So incoherent as to say that all he really wanted was Laurel.
Yes, this Laurel.
I asked what I was supposed to do, being hundreds of miles away and all that, and she didn't have an answer. Should I talk to him? Well, that might make it worse.
Then why are you calling me? Just to let me know, I guess.
Then the whole team called Jim. He only repeated what I said: call 911, dumbfucks. (Although I bet I said it more pleasantly than he did.)
Four minutes into my movie, another call: "We're at the hospital. Umm...can we get into trouble for this? Should we just leave him here?" Then she recited some elaborate invented story. I tried to tell her that she couldn't get into trouble if she just told the truth, but apparently my other friend, who I for some reason considered compassionate before, was so paranoid as to say that she didn't want anyone to know where he had been, not when he took the drugs, but when he started to worry everyone. The people who lived in the house said they didn't want it associated with drugs at all.
I tried my damnedest to convey that the basics were enough: what he took and how much, how much time had passed, maybe whether anyone had seen him take them in order to confirm the amount (he said he took 900 milligrams of oxycodone. My sweet ass he did. Remove one of those zeroes and you'll be much closer). Even if they did have something to worry about, coming in there with an elaborate and unnecessary story is not exactly the best way to avoid arousing suspicion.
Ineptitude!
Yes, this Laurel.
I asked what I was supposed to do, being hundreds of miles away and all that, and she didn't have an answer. Should I talk to him? Well, that might make it worse.
Then why are you calling me? Just to let me know, I guess.
Then the whole team called Jim. He only repeated what I said: call 911, dumbfucks. (Although I bet I said it more pleasantly than he did.)
Four minutes into my movie, another call: "We're at the hospital. Umm...can we get into trouble for this? Should we just leave him here?" Then she recited some elaborate invented story. I tried to tell her that she couldn't get into trouble if she just told the truth, but apparently my other friend, who I for some reason considered compassionate before, was so paranoid as to say that she didn't want anyone to know where he had been, not when he took the drugs, but when he started to worry everyone. The people who lived in the house said they didn't want it associated with drugs at all.
I tried my damnedest to convey that the basics were enough: what he took and how much, how much time had passed, maybe whether anyone had seen him take them in order to confirm the amount (he said he took 900 milligrams of oxycodone. My sweet ass he did. Remove one of those zeroes and you'll be much closer). Even if they did have something to worry about, coming in there with an elaborate and unnecessary story is not exactly the best way to avoid arousing suspicion.
Ineptitude!