Derek: I am reading Vince Neil's autobiography. It's really fucking something.
Keith: He's gross.
Derek: He's really gross.
Keith: Some juicy details in there?
Derek: He's just talked about how rich he is. I'm only on page four.
Keith: Just thinking about him having sex is making me gag.
Derek: And his belly? His hot tequila breath? Humping back and forth? Sweaty patchy dyed blond hair thrashing mildly?
Keith: Plus he winds easily so he's never on top.
Derek: Just a mound of oozing flesh. Ooze contained by a leathery package of melanoma and hamburgers that will not let it escape.
Keith: He can't listen to music while he has sex because he gets too into it because he's a real rocker.
Derek: He'd fuck a chick on a Harley! His jizz would be rocket fuel! They'd blast off into the stratosphere!
Keith: If I could do like, the real high-falsetto metal singing, this is where it would go.
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