Dennis Rodman is in rehab. Big surprise after his latest trip to North Korea. Yeah, he got drunk, big whup. He was probably high as well on some good Korean ganga too. Anything papasan want? Anything? You name it Joe, we get for you.
“Yeah, I want the biggest-ass bottle of sake you got and a bowl-ful of that Korean home grown, thanks kindly, Kim.”
And then this, “You know man, I am like so Charlie Sheen-ing right now. I swear I got tiger blood.”
You want holang-i pi? Joe? Tiger blood. Get Joe some tiger blood.
“No, no man, my blood, it’s like…oh never mind.”
[takes another hit off the makeshift bong made from an old piece of pipe and some rice paper]
“What was I saying? Oh yea, Tiger Woods, no…wait yeah, I wanna go golfing. You got clubs?”
Oh yeah, Joe, we got clubs, and rockets, nuclear ones, better than clubs, clubs are for suckers.
“No, no, man, c’mon, give peace a chance. Golf, I want to go golfing…”
No, Joe, we don’t have golf here, fees to club are too expensive. Damn Americans. Sorry Joe, present company excluded.
“Uh, okay then, I think Imma head back over to the states and soak in a hot tub someplace where they know what the hell golf is or whatevahhhh.”
[Takes one last hit off the bong and finishes up the sake before laying back on the comfy floor mattress and lets out a little roar, more like a yawn, really, and crashes for the night.]