2:00 p.m.
On a Monday.
"Okay, Charlie, you're not making any sense!" Dennis said.
Charlie was wearing a rat costume, and it was covered in rat blood. "Listen, man," he said, "These rats can't be dealt with in normal ways. You gotta learn how to feel the rats, become them you know?"
"That's fucking disgusting," Dennis replied, taking a drink of his faggy drink. Dee was too busy being useless and unimportant to be in the conversation, so instead the focus turned to Mac and Frank, who just entered the bar together.
"Guys," Mac said, "You won't believe this: I just got into the Street Fighter Tournament."
"You're right, I don't believe that," Dennis said.
"No, really, dude, look at this," Mac said as he handed a paper to Dennes.
"Dude, you're going to get your ass kicked."
"Nuh uh! I'm going to kick the asses! I'll show everyone my super awesome karate moves anmd I'll win it all!"
"That's funny," Frank said. "I thought it was a Trump rally."
"Why the hell did you think it was a Trump rally, Frank?" Mac asked the ugly troll fatman. "Didn't you see all the buff, muscle clad men flexing their rock hard muscles and showing off their washboard abs."
"You're totally pitching a tent, Mac," Dennes said. "And Donald Trump died weeks ago due to some mysterious cause."
"I'm just admiring hard work and amazing physeeke, damnit!" Mac exclaimed. "I'm going to show you! I'LL SHOW YOU ALL!"
Mac stormed out of the bar. Charlie looked at Dennis in disbelief when Frak Reynolds took off his pants.
"Okay, why are you taking off youre pants?" Charlie assed.
"Well, where else am I going to take a dump?"
"Aw dude, what the hell!" Dennis and Charlie said. Then ran out of the bar as Frank started to defecate. Dee happened to be in the bar the moment he blasted ass, and she regret it.
Mac Joins the Street Fighter Tournament
