Fire, bringer of warmth, toaster of marshmallows, incinerator of evidence.
After seeing Wendel's tongue, Bradley's imagination was taking him places he didn't want to be.
Or did he....
Phil: Oh my lord. You didn't! Is that your....and his....is that a cat? Bloody hell, you Americans are wild.
Wendel: The petting, it is nice, please continue. I will, of course, sniff your crotch in return.
Madeline (internal): Hippies, limeys, ugly dogs, fire, booze....this is an awesome Saturday night.
Phil: Oy, hippy! Put down the peace pipe and help me finish off this case.
Wendel was using these humans to get to their beer. But he also wasn't one to pass up a good butt rub.
Knowing that their power was derived from their hair, Annie secretly shaved their heads while they slept.
Phil: We've had this discussion before hippy, there are good touches, and there are bad touches.
Awww, how cute.
Sadly, at this point Bradley didn't even recognize his own wife. But, luckily for us, he was quite susceptible to suggestions.
Madeline, Sean's friend we randomly ran into, tries to turn away politely after overhearing ramblings about cash, star wars guys, and some nonsense about a zim-fire.
The night is not complete without some nipple twisting action.
Or so Bradley kept telling us.
Bradley toasts us with his 5th beer. After which he lost the power of coherent speech.