Location: McMurray’ Bar, Brooklyn
Evening: 7:00pm
Harry: Say, Mike, a Miller’s.
Pete: Make that two.
Jack: Say, Mike, have any Rollin Rock?
Mike: Yeh, at home. We don’t sell it.
Jack: O.K. Tequila on the rocks.
Harry: Ain’t we the latin lova.
Pete: You guys heard the Presidents screed.
Jack: His what?
Pete: His screed. Yesterday on the t.v.
Harry: Yeh, I heard him. What’s this screed shit?
Pete: Forget it.
Harry: No, what screed? I did hear the trope.
Jack: What the fuck are you talkin about?
Mike: Say fellas, I saw this fuckin meme last night. Hilarious.
Pete: You mean the one on Fox. I saw it too. Existential as hell – just great.
Jack: Fellas, I gotta get goin. See ya tomorrow. (Swallows the Tequila)