Listen, I'm sorry I called you a loser, two-bit fallen angel with a Frank Sinatra complex and some half decent underground real estate. I'm really sorry.
Can I go home now? Joke's over. It was funny, really funny when I walked into my bathroom and ended up in the middle of the street in Los Angeles with a truck coming at me full speed. I laughed.
I'll never insult your love of Frank Sinatra again, just get me home so I'm not late for work.
And if you aren't behind this, then I'm pretty sure I'm screwed. This could be bad.