I feel so bloated.
Fuck me man, I am STONED. Woo! You ever get so stoned you get tunnel vision? My field of vision is the size of a fucking dime right now. Gotta get into this motherfuckin’ house. Where my keys?
(searches for keys, finds them in his pocket attached to an alligator bottle opener key chain)
Here they are! No wait, these are the keys to the house in Buckhead. Oh fuck.
Holy shit, I am wobbling.
Time to do some jimmyin’
(opens door with credit card)
Nice. Hey, Priscilla! I’m home, bitch! Where you at? Hey, why didn’t my alarm go off? And why is my fishbowl broken? And why is there furniture overturned in my living room? I never had furniture in my living room before. And where’s my 1000-carat diamond picture frame featuring me and Frank Beamer with Frank Beamer cropped out? And where did Marcus go? And how come there ain’t any Tyson’s Chicken nuggets in the freezer? And where’s that John Singer Sargent painting that my agent made me purchase?
Wait a second.
I know what this is.
I’m REALLY, REALLY fucking stoned!
Fuckin’ A. This is some good shit. One time I smoked up and saw a purple swan, but I ain’t ever seen shit like this. Unless I’m in the wrong house. I’m not in the wrong house, am I? Wait a second, I’m not that stoned. I smoked, like, six bowls. That ain’t shit.
Oh, man! I just came to a shocking realization!
MUTHAPHUCKKAS TOOK MY SHIT!!!!!!!
I’ve been robbed! Oh my God. I feel so violated, just like anyone who has to watch “Lil' Bush”! Oh, I am fucking pissed. Nobody gets to violate me except for ME! I’mma fucking find whoever did this. Right after I watch this DVD of “House Party”. Public Enema? Who da hell wants a Public Enema! Ha ha ha! That shit cracks me up every time.
(goes into TV room and sees TV is missing)
Motherfucker! They took my TV! They even took the emergency TV in the study! NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!! The fuck am I supposed to stare blankly at now? Shit, they even took all the pictures of me off the game wall! I’m so fucking mad. I’mma catch these fuckers, unless I have to watch tape in order to do it.
And where the fuck are my floor buffers?! I can’t enjoy this pleasant buzz when my floors have a matte finish! That’s why I kept TWO buffers in the house! This is ruining my shit! GAH!!!!!!!!!
All right, Mike. Just calm down. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’s just the Feds digging around for clandestine canine burial grounds. No big deal. They’re just stupid fucking dogs. No one gives a shit about that except Inspector Todd.
How could they have gotten in? No one could possibly crack my security code of 1-2-3-4. It’s so clever in its obviousness! God dammit! Fuckin' Slomin's Shield don't shield shit! I wonder who did this. Was it Greg Knapp? I bet it was Greg Knapp. Assistants don’t make SHIT. Fuck him. Fuck that Knappy-headed ho. Better call 911.
Oh snap, wait. If I call 911, they’ll know I was smokin’ pot earlier. And they’ll know about that hermit I killed and bricked into the basement. And they’ll find my stash. And the room full of illegal Cambodian immigrants. And my ketchup. And all those crude landmines I tried to make out of Tide and used toilet paper rolls. Can’t call the cops! Only one man I can call.
Arthur Blank: Hello?
Hello, Mr. Home Depot Man! You fix shit, right? You a handyman?
Arthur Blank: No, Michael. I’m the CEO.
Yeah, well I need to C-E YO ass down at my place in VA. And I need you to bring a wet/dry vac because someone stole the toilet and I’m gonna have to piss on my own damn marble floor.
Arthur Blank: Michael, have you been smoking marijuana?
What? Uh, NO! This isn’t Mike. This is, uh, Keith Brooking. I’m like, white and shit. You must have reached me in error, sooth gentleman.
Arthur Blank: Michael, I know it's you. It says so right on my calle...
I have to adjourn to the drawing room now. Good day, kind sir!
I’mma just have to buy a new house now. Fuck this cleaning shit.
Photo courtesy of The Onion.