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“No, no, no,” Mickey scolds as he swallows his beer, shaking his head back and forth for emphasis, “Ian has the better ass; have you seen how fuckin’ plump that shit is?”
Tami throws her head back, laughing, “You can’t expect me to believe you when using the word plump.”
“What else do you want me to say?!” Mickey exclaims, “It’s like Kim Kardashian back there,” he takes another swig of alcohol, this time savouring the bitter taste coating the outside of his throat.
This time, Tami is the one who drinks. She downs the rest of her vodka—three-fourths of her glass, to be exact—and taps her knuckle on the table to get Kev’s attention.
“What are you drinking?” Kev asks.
“Ugh,” Tami groans, “vodka, keep up!”
Once Tami receives her refill, she turns to Mickey and says, “Lip’s ass is so fat, you can see that shit from the front,” she mocks.
“You can’t start in the format of a ‘Yo Mamma’ joke and is except me to believe you.”
“Oh!” Kev cheers from behind the bar, “Nice one, Mickey!”
Elegantly, Tami turns around and throws Kev a middle finger, one Mickey graciously returns on his behalf.