Shit. Gents, we're going to have to be leaving.
Bradley toasts us with his 5th beer. After which he lost the power of coherent speech.
The night is not complete without some nipple twisting action.
Or so Bradley kept telling us.
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.
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.
Phil: We've had this discussion before hippy, there are good touches, and there are bad touches.
Knowing that their power was derived from their hair, Annie secretly shaved their heads while they slept.
Phil: Oh my lord. You didn't! Is that your....and his....is that a cat? Bloody hell, you Americans are wild.
Wendel was using these humans to get to their beer. But he also wasn't one to pass up a good butt rub.
After seeing Wendel's tongue, Bradley's imagination was taking him places he didn't want to be.
Or did he....
Phil: Oy, hippy! Put down the peace pipe and help me finish off this case.
Fire, bringer of warmth, toaster of marshmallows, incinerator of evidence.
Madeline (internal): Hippies, limeys, ugly dogs, fire, booze....this is an awesome Saturday night.
