Maria:Well, they certainly weren’t working on our scripts
Ian:They were around plenty, whiners
Peter:More tuna hallucinations, poor Ian
Peter:It’s a shame everyone will miss Ron and R.J.’s session,The Art and Science of Failing Upwards As Cishet White Guys
Ian:Fuck you, Peter
Ian:You’re a has-been
Ian:and since you’ve never been on a successful show before, you have no idea how things work, especially off on your stupid little island
Alex:Is Tuna Rage a thing? Like ‘Roid Rage, only smellier and less articulate?
Maria:“Fuck you, Peter”?
Maria:Oh, Ian, I’m so sorry
Maria:I’m afraid Peter requires a certain level of
Maria:how should I put this
Maria:personal hygiene? yes, personal hygiene
Maria:when it comes to his lovers
Maria:I’m pretty sure anyone who smells like the Catch of the Day is disqualified, sadly
Carah:oooooooooooh
Carah:the rare and elusive piscine BURN!
Carah:FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT
Ian:That’s right, Maria
Ian:I suppose you WOULD know all about Peter’s requirements for sex
Summer:Stop right there, Ian
Maria:No, go on, I’d like to hear this
Alex:Ian, Peter might not have an IV tuna drip and muscles upon muscles, like some sort of steroid-induced pecs Inception, but he will fuck you up, my dude
Alex:and so will I, to be clear
Peter:Thank you for the kind offer, Alex, but there would be nothing left of him by the time I was through
Peter:and that’s only if Maria doesn’t get to him first, because she would transform him singlehandedly into a fine pink mist
Peter:So please, Ian, finish what you were saying
Carah:IT’S MY FUCKING BIRTHDAY UP IN THIS BITCH
Carah:NO TUNA IS SAFE TONIGHT
Peter:Ian?
