k.i.t., bitch!


"let's get some drinks."
"nah, that's okay."
"come on, man. just a little bit."
"no, i'm good."
"just take a sip. would you take a sip? it's not gonna kill you."
"alright, i'll take a sip."
"peer pressure, peer pressure, what does it do? squeezes the jesus right out of you!"
"hey, this is really good."
"see, i told you. if it's too strong, just pour some more coke."
"alright."
"i usually put more coke in mine. i just like to get a buzz."
"yeah, this is pretty good."
"idiot! always scared all the time. see! it's nothing."
"whoa. this is awesome."
"shoulda been doing this a long time ago."
"where's dong with the weed?"
"he's not comin'. he called and said he's doing something else."
"damnit!"
"you should call up your friends, man. we'll have a party."
"yeah. is that cool? can i invite some people over?"
"do whatever you want, man."
[calls] "hey, hey. can you come out tonight? why not? ahh, that sucks, dude. alright, forget it."
"who you callin'?"
"just my friend."
"call up some girls, man. don't make it a sausage fest."
"alright."
"hello? [indistinguishable mumbling]...yeah! k.i.t., bitch!"
"what the hell was that?"
"this girl i went to school with. she wrote "k.i.t." in my yearbook."
"you just called her a bitch?"
"yeah, but it was her voicemail."
"oh."
[whispering] "dude, he's digging his own grave."
"i know."

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