|
In case anyone's wondering, this particular bigshot drug kingpin is a cameo appearance by bigshot Patreon patron Andrew Rosenthal. (As far as I'm aware, he does not actually sell drugs in any capacity.)
Oh, and for those of you who aren't well-versed in such things, the correct response to the amount of PCP Rick Bishop is swirling around in panel 1, there, is "fuck me with a rusty weed whacker, JAMIE, DO NOT DROP THAT".
|
|
0647-------------------------------------
(Wednesday afternoon, INT: sordid den of iniquity. Despite the squalor of his surroundings, vicious drug lord Andrew Rosenthal holds court like a king upon his throne, surrounded by bodyguards.)
JH (swirling a yellow liquid in a glass container): Hmm... good colour, no visible impurities or cloudiness... good legs... I probably should have brought some litmus paper or something.
AR: I have taken the liberty of preparing a wet stick for you to sample, Mister Bishop. Free of charge, of course.
--------------
JH: Oh, ah, no, no thank you. Very generous, but no. It's not for me. It's for the rats.
AR: I'm afraid I must insist.
JH: I've seen what this stuff does to neurons. I need my neurons, that's... sort of the whole point.
AR: Mm. Something else, perhaps? I know you college kids like Adderall, I have some product here that's essentially the same chemical.
--------------
JH: Oh! I know what this is. You need me to do some drugs to prove I'm not an undercover cop, right?
AR: Correct.
JH: And you can't just ask me if I'm a cop because that only works in movies, right?
AR: Indeed. So unless you can think of some other way of proving yourself...
--------------
JH: Okay, um... would anyone here like to have sexual intercourse with me in exchange for money?
AR: You know what, I think we can skip this step.
|
