"More like Scream Yelling...fart. Scream Yellingfart."
"Is what we should call you."
"Cool. It's tough typing and talking at the same time, isn't it Dan?" It really was.
"Perfect, well I'm just going to jump right into this, because I've got a lot of work to do and your office smells like you've been renting it out as some kind of black market practice clinic for unsupervised dog-neutering. But, like, only on hot days. It smells awful in here, Dan," Jack clarified as he casually swayed back-and-forth on his intricate series of cables and wires, like in that movie that I'm almost positive was called Sophie's Choice.
"The reason I'm here," Jack began, "is to tell you that I got you in. To South By Southwest. You're welcome."
"I mean this with all due respect, Jacts of Life-"
"Don't call me that."
"-but I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. I've never heard of South by Southwest before, but if it's a thing that you want me to attend then I'm guessing it's journalism school, or some kind of prison without windows, in which case you can forget it, and you'll never take me, and you are entrapment!"
"You don't even know what you're mad at, Dan, you want to go to South by Southwest. It's a big music, film and interactive festival in Texas. Don't you remember, three years ago you came bursting into my office begging to go? You even documented it, it was one of the first things you wrote about for the site."