Dax: Iāll give you a different kind of clap bomb, boys. Four pink pills and sheās gone though, I promise.Ā
Ron: Letās set up in Gretzās office, boys, work my quiet zone. Anyone want that?
Dax: Remember the Louisville rubber shaft? I have a Dax-yville rubber shaft.Ā
Ron: Letās have a āronnybrook.ā
Dax: Short side, far side, blind side; give me your best shot.
Ron: Five holeās wide open boys, take it. TAKE IT!Ā
Dax: I can stickhandle inside a phone booth, boys, letās see your handles. *whispers* Show me.
Ron: Iām a late round performer, boys. Letās go seven.
*Reilly and Jonesy clapping*
Reilly: I have to say, boys, that is some of the finest chirping that Iāve ever received.
Jonesy: Ever.
Reilly: And your shrines, too, your temples. My god, first team All-Stars.
Jonesy: Stick tap to the temples, boys. Two-days written all over you.
Dax: But, people arenāt supposed to enjoy being catcalled.
Ron: Yeah. Youāre supposed to. Not. Enjoy being catcalled.Ā
Reilly: Okay, fuck, buddy, if anybody knows how hot we are, youāre looking at āem.
Jonesy: Thereās a lineup around the block for this pop-up shop.
Reilly: Yeah, nobodyās kicking this kid out of bed for eating crackers, thatās for sure.
Jonesy: Iāve yet to see one customer not come back for seconds at that buffet.
Reilly: Yeah, I bet you thought everybody skips the continental breakfast. Guess what, they donāt.
Jonesy: Take this ride, and youāre getting right back in line, boys.
Dax: Truth is, youāre not really our type, boys.
Reilly: Bull-fucking-shit.
Jonesy: You think we donāt see you rocking semis?
Dax: Weāre gay guys at the gym, weāre always rocking semis.
Ron: Itās true though, youāre not our type.
Jonesy: What is your type then, you fucking liar?
Dax and Ron: Otters.
Reilly: Like the Erie Otters?
Jonesy: Like the Cal State Monterey Bay Otters?
Dax: No, āottersā are what we call skinny, hairy, dudes.
Reilly: Points for creativity, boys.
Jonesy: Love the hustle, boys.
Reilly: So, like, what are we supposed to call you then? Our gay buddies from the gym, or?
Dax: No, we took āgayā in the expansion draft from you about a hundred years back.
Jonesy: Butch?
Ron: Shout out to our sisters in the womenās league.
Reilly: Fruit?
Dax: āFruitā had a cup of coffee in the show a few decades back, but never really produced for either of us.
Jonesy: Bear?
Ron: You guys released ābearā awhile back for underperforming and we got her at a friendly price. Been a real stud for us ever since.
Reilly: Cub?
Dax: āCubāās been consistent since we put her on a line with ābear.ā
Jonesy: Boofta?
Ron: Still playing overseas. Likely gonna retire there.Ā
Reilly: Nelly?
Dax: Only your grandpa remembers that alumni.
Jonesy: Homo?Ā
Ron: āHomoā may be in your ring of honor, but never forget the bodychecks our goons threw down to end that career.
Reilly: Queen?
Dax: Produced the best arena music of all time. But still, itās only for some.
*Reilly and Jonesy share a look*
Reilly: Iām not fuckinā saying it.
Dax and Ron: Fag?
Jonesy: Iām not sure thatās PC, but you said it.
Ron: āFagā got cut in the 80s and may have cleared waivers, but we all made a gentlemanās agreement not to sign her because of behavior detrimental to the league.
Dax: Call me Dax.
Ron: Call me Ron.
Reilly: Letās be buddies, Daxy!
Jonesy: Letās be buds, Ronsy.
Dax: Really?
Reilly: Yeah! Fuck, you guys slam fresh butts, we slam fresh box, and the world keeps on turning, boys. Well, fuck, come on over, lay some skin on me, Daxy!
Jonesy: Lay some skin on me, Ronsy!
*high fives*
Reilly: Jonesy and I usually just fist each other, like, just like that. No. Itās different. Itās supposed to. Itās like this.
Dax: Oh, okay.
*overlapping dialogue with Jonesy and Ron in the background*
Reilly: I guess we better go talk to Katy Kat, buddy.
Jonesy: Time to break it to Katy Kat, buddy. But wait. You seriously donāt wanna bang us, you fucking liars?