Game Over, Man! Page #7

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What's the nearest room

that can accommodate us?

Uh, the conference room.

But, ooh, it's dressed

for a convention tomorrow,

so if you don't mind, I would appreciate

if we just stayed upstairs,

not to mess it up.

-Take everyone to the conference room!

-Okay.

Come on, let's move.

I don't herd cattle.

I'll be hunting waiters.

Bilbo, Dildo, you come with me.

You don't ask for respect, little girl.

You take it.

Move it, ladies.

You got legs. Use 'em.

-Move it, people.

-What the f*** is the holdup?

-Everybody out.

-Keep moving! Let's go!

Come on!

Darren, look.

They're going inside.

So what?

So they're contained.

You can't contain machine guns, Darren.

How much salvia did you smoke?

Sh*t, how much more do you have of that?

I mean, there's a lot here,

but it is covered in glass.

Not the sandwich, your salvia. How much?

Oh, so now you want my help.

Hmm, sure.

Grab those guns and follow moi.

You got glass.

You got glass in your hair.

I'm flippin' keys.

Well, not yet, actually.

I've got some serious rebranding to do.

Turns out salvia isn't a very sexy drug

and no one likes it except for Darren--

and, weirdly, the JV softball team.

-Those girls get f***in' wild.

-Okay, yeah, whatever, man.

-This is perfect. This is great.

-Okay.

Alexxx? Do you live here?

Because it looks like you live here.

I don't live here.

No, you know who I think lives here?

Josu.

Yeah, the maintenance guy?

That guy's... that guy's a weirdo.

Yeah, like I was saying

about the rebranding...

um, you know, like the Marlboro man,

but this is "Uncle Sal."

Sal-via? Get it?

Dude, there's, like, a "Buffalo Bill went

to Costco" amount of lotion over here.

-Pfft. Hey, the salvia's back here, so...

-Yeah, yeah.

Oh! And what is this?

This is an oil painting of you on a throne

with money hanging out of your pockets

and a bunch of tits

hovering around your head.

Seems like he-- he's a true artist

for real, but...

that is weird, admittedly.

- Salvia is this way, so...

- Yeah, okay.

So Josu is up here painting you and...

beating off to a porno parody

of your favorite childhood movie, Flubber?

"Flubbher." That's funny.

- Hmm.

- Hmm.

Huh.

Fine! Yes, I live here, okay?

I jerk off up here. I paint myself here.

I jerk off while painting myself.

Is that what you wanted to hear?

-Jesus Christ.

-This isn't that bad.

I'm saving up all the money,

so I'm gonna buy a Maybach

in like six years.

I'm an adult homeless man

stuck in a balling-ass body,

but I put my pride aside

and took you to my grow house

to save the f***ing day.

-So you're welcome.

-Well, it's a grow closet at best,

but it's definitely enough salvia

to hotbox the whole conference room.

I mean, we can knock them on their asses,

take their weapons, lock them in.

-We could kill 'em.

-No, not kill them.

What do you mean?

You guys already got a kill.

I haven't gotten a kill yet, so it's--

it's kind of fair that I'd get one.

You can have my kill.

I don't want your kill. I want my own.

Look... I like this plan.

Cool, good. We gotta figure out how to get

the smoke into the conference room.

I'm thinking the maintenance breezeway.

The vents there?

If we can go in the ducts...

No, I don't... I can't.

Figure it out. Look at all this.

-Build something, man.

-I mean,

there's a ton of lotion.

What, we should just jerk the goons off

into submission?

Just build something, man!

This is a trash heap.

There's nothing I can use here.

Yeah, this is all my belongings, so...

Hold on.

I got it. I got it! I'll draw it up

so you know what I'm talking about.

Oh, the wheels are turning!

All right. So what do I get to do?

You? Oh, nothing.

You just stay out of the way.

Okay? You've done enough.

On your feet!

On your feet now!

- Ooh, tough guy.

- Shut up.

- Shut up!

- Yeah, you smell bad.

What, did you sh*t in your pants?

Sh*t.

Wow, wow. You think I'm scared of you

'cause you got a gun in my face? F*** off.

Bet you think you're gonna buy respect

with all that money too, huh?

Well, it bought you respect.

What, you think these people like you

because they follow you online?

You know, half his followers are bots.

Okay? He's not as famous as you think.

Yo, point is, I blow their f***ing minds.

All you do is hate and take.

Well, um... why don't we...

"blow their minds" now?

You there. Bring him over here.

I didn't do anything. What's going on?

Oh, no, no. Jesus... oh, God.

Please don't hurt me.

My intentions are to do

quite the opposite.

Strip his pants. Bend him over the table.

No. What the f***?

What--? No.

Oh, Jesus.

Let me up.

You made me eat that...

...hooker ass.

Yeah.

Now let's see you muster any respect

after you toss this fat f***'s salad.

Whoa, whoa. Ahmad! Ahmad.

Whoa, it's so dark.

Do it, or he's a dead man.

All right, I just wanna say

one thing, dog.

Didn't have to be this way.

Oh!

Stop...

What the f***? Ooh, what the f***?

- Yeah.

- Ooh. Wait-- wait, okay.

Whoa. Are you guys seeing this?

Do you see this? Bey's eating my ass.

I'm getting my salad tossed by Bey!

Someone 'Gram this!

-Right, enough--

-I'm not done, motherf***er!

All right, stop it! Get him up. Up.

Enough, enough!

Just a little bit longer.

What happened?

You tried to embarrass me?

I done f***ed 10,000 women.

You don't think I ate a grip

of dude-booties along the way?

Yeah-yeah!

You may not be able

to feel embarrassment. I get it.

But prepare to feel suffering.

Let's try this again.

Bring me the correct

corresponding breach sensor.

Oh, I-I hope he can swim.

Ah! Oh!

-What...

-Oh, oh, oh.

-What the f***, man?

-Squat.

Okay.

These. We know what these do.

-No. Ahmad, Ahmad--

-Yeah.

Oh, oh.

Oh, is that-- yeah.

Lower.

Lower.

Perfect.

F***, they got Chet!

How the f*** is that possible?

They're f***in' waiters.

Weren't you just

a f***ing garbageman a few years ago?

This way.

I don't really appreciate you putting

my rsum in the street like that.

Tell me you were driving

-the f***ing truck.

-F*** you, man.

-That should do it.

-Good.

All right, so we patch into the air duct.

We hit the switch. We wait 30, 45 seconds.

Until the bad guys pass out.

We zip tie them, take their guns,

and free the hostages.

I know. It's my plan.

Okay, cool. You can have a sticker

or something.

-What are you doing? Come on.

-Sorry.

All right, pick a gun.

No, no. I am not using a gun.

All right? My brain is my weapon.

And it is fully loaded, sir.

Okay, fine. Then you wheel the cart.

What did I say?

Please don't do that, okay? Just...

grab the extension cord.

Let's go.

-You feeling tired yet?

-F*** you.

You're like the worst Bond villain ever.

You might as well just kill me, 'cause...

...I ain't gettin' tired.

Well, Lil Puma

looks kind of tuckered out.

Maybe we should put him out of his misery.

Wowee!

Now, that-- that was fun. Oh, God.

Take respect.

- Don't ask.

- Yeah!

-Take.

-Oh!

Did you see all the f***in' blood

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