Me and my two friends, Panic and BroncHorse, are walking down First Avenue after a long night of drinking, looking to find the nearest pizza place for some late-night eats. BroncHorse is telling some entertaining stories as we walk. He is still on an adrenaline high from his night out at the bar.

BroncHorse: Did you see the size on that girl's boobs man? The one in the purple, we were dancing with. Those things were like flying saucers, like (mimics a walkie-talkie sound) Earth to BroncHorse, those things are huge. Over. Can you only imagine those things being on top of you while fucking? The traction there has got to be an issue.

As he is telling this story, a girl is walking by, most likely also coming back from a night out. She is in her mid-20s

Carol: Um, excuse me. that's just disgusting.

BroncHorse: I'm just telling like it is, hun. Hey, what are you up to right now? Come get some pizza with us

Carol: You guys are pigs. Seriously

BroncHorse: Sorry I can't please everyone.

Carol: Goodbye

Carol begins walking away at a brisk pace. Panic picks up on the "walkie-talkie" dialect BroncHorse had used during the story, and exactly on cue, he and BroncHorse run with it.

Panic: Earth to BroncHorse, observer has no sense of humor. Over

BroncHorse: Earth to Panic, female wishes she had big enough boobs so that we'd be talking about her. Over

Carol, halfway down the block, turns around and gives my friends a shot of her middle finger.

Panic: You do realize that passer-by was the one who initiated the conversation. Over.

BroncHorse: She could have just kept walking. Over

Panic: What a beeyotch. Over.

Carol quickens her pace even further.

BroncHorse: Run, passerby, run. Over

Panic: That was just mean. Over.

BroncHorse: She's getting breast augmentation surgery tomorrow. Over

With this comment, Carol walks inside the nearest building, and does not come out until we have long walked away