My word, you look horrible. I think you may want to sit down. That collision you had with reality last night is going to leave quite a mark, I'm afraid.
That's it. Easy. Here's a cold compress for your fat lip. I know it stings at first, but it will keep the swelling down.
You know, at second glance, it looks like you've got another bleeder there. Yeah, you're gushing all over your Toby Keith tour shirt. Looks like you're going to need some stitches after all.
What's that you say? Thirsty? Here, friend, have a sip of my lemonade.
Oh, the citrus burns, doesn't it. I didn't even think of that. I was too busy enjoying the tangy sweet goodness to imagine that my elixir might have brought you pain.
There, there, friend.
Say, what happened to your eyebrows? They look...singed. I'll be damned. They are singed. I have something here for those second degree burns you have about your face, chest, neck and head. Go ahead and just rub that in.
Oh, stop with the screaming, already, it's only naval jelly. It's good for you! Chase it with this mercurochrome and you'll feel right as rain.
Say, I have an idea. Let's share a cold beer. Nothing like a cold beer to help you forget what's happened in the last twenty-four hours. Let me go ahead and crack one.
Will you look at that? I appear to have finished the entire beer in one heroic gulp. There's none left for you. When will I ever learn manners?
Anyway, Troll, it's been real. The bus to the middle of nowhere should be by any minute now, if the schedule's right. Maybe it'll even take you there via Ted Stevens' bridge!
Sorry, easy shot.
I'll just prop up that stump of a severed leg right here on the bench, and cinch up your tourniquet. Try to keep a good thought of me, friend. I don't think we'll be seeing you for quite a while.
Bye now.
Oh, and one more thing...