12 PM. Time to close this deal. Where? Sushi. When? 12 PM. Pay attention. Why? Their ravioli is divine—the name’s a red herring. Closers expect the unexpected.

I’m in my seat sending back wine by 11, but Smith’s beat me by a fortnight. Bastard. He smells awful. I need the upper hand. I order for him—veal-braised beef. Too slow again. Smith’s eating cold McNuggets out of his briefcase. Zero sauce. Wharton guys are good.

No more messing around. I order risotto, branzino, amalfi, and ambrosia. Smith orders carrots. Damn. I shoot back with carpaccio and Placido. Domingo? No. Domino’s. Thin crust. Smith is on the ropes. He asks the waiter for ice water and my firstborn. “Lose the ice,” I tell him. He shaves his beard and puts on deodorant. Deal.

Back at the firm there’s talk of another lunch meeting, this one at dinner. I tell The Bossman no can do. I’m busy arriving early for breakfast. “You can do anything,” she says. That’s why her father Mr. Bossman put her in charge. “You got it, lady,” I reply. She loves it when I mention her gender. Equality.

On the way, I grab a burger. Feels nice. I give it to a homeless man and head upstairs to Mahoney. Psych. The homeless man was Mahoney all along, and now he’s got my burger. Good thing I’ve got his house. We trade, and Bossman makes me partner. I can’t even read all the zeros on my new paycheck. It’s for $5,111,111.67. Breakeven money. Lunch is expensive.

• Batman, the Joker is headed for City Hall—wait, what happened to the Batmobile?

• Oh, I went for an upgrade. This is the new Batmobile. Now get in!

• This looks like a Prius.

• It is. But it’s not just any Prius…

• I knew it! What’s it got? Invisibility? Heat-seeking missiles?

• Close: it has special crime-fighting front-wheel drive!

• I think that’s standard.

• Not anymore. They discontinued it after 2008.

• Batman, we can’t save the city in this. For God’s sake, the car is tan.

• The Bat-Prius is champagne. Slick, right?

• It’s not very fearsome. And what’s with all these newspapers in the backseat?

• Just move them over. But don’t crease them! I can’t piss off Mr. DeLuca again.

• Mr. DeLuca?

• Nothing. Buckle in. We have to make a couple stops on the way. If I don’t finish delivering by 3:00, I only get half pay.

• Listen, I wasn’t going to say anything, but the last paycheck you gave me bounced.

• We need to stop the Joker.

• It’s alright. I don’t need it. But is everything okay? Money-wise?

• …*sob*...

• Batman?

A crowded nightclub. A beautiful woman approaches Ginuwine on the dance floor.

“I’m just a bachelor, looking for a partner,”

Time stands still as she reaches out to Ginuwine, sensually. She hands him an instructional booklet titled How to Ride a Pony.

“Someone who knows how to ride,”

Ginuwine leans in to kiss the woman. He fakes her out at the last second and shoves her away. He knows how to ride a pony.

“Without even falling off,”

All of the dancers in the nightclub remove their masks, revealing themselves to be ponies. Ginuwine mounts the sweetest one, Amber Sage.

“If you’re horny, let’s do it,”

Together, Ginuwine and Amber Sage lead the ponies out into the street. Ponies pour out of buildings across the city. The sun shines above. It is the revolution, and it is beautiful.

“Ride it, my pony,”

Flashback to a ten-year-old Ginuwine pointing to a photograph in a magazine of a pony for sale. His father shakes his head “no.”

“My saddle’s waitin’,”

Bounding across time, Amber Sage smashes through ten-year-old Ginuwine’s front doorway. “Take my hand, little one,” he says in his deep, Indian accent.

“Come and jump on it,”

The pair rendezvous with adult Ginuwine in the future, and go on to have many adventures across various planets and historical eras. Each one reminds them of friendship’s true meaning.

A priest, a rabbi, and Caitlyn Jenner walk into a bar. BANG! BANG! BANG! The only one who walks out is Keith McBooty. This is his story.

Keith McBooty is the man.

He smells like teen spirit and looks like trouble. The push-up was named after him. What he lacks in intelligence, he makes up for in penis.

He’s broken every bone in his body, and does it twice on Sundays. He asks his doctors if they do happy endings, and even if they don’t, more often than not, they’ll make an exception. 

When Alcoholics Anonymous gave him his bronze chip, he ate it, then chased it with a beer. He used to have a drinking problem, but now it’s much more severe.

Not much else is known about Keith McBooty. If you’re curious, a good person to ask might be his mother. But if you want to talk to Keith McBooty’s mother, you’re gonna have to go through him, punk.

P.S. She’s dead.

But for all his musk, one fateful day, Keith McBooty’s world was turned upside down. You see, that day, a stranger came to town. And if there was one word that filled Keith McBooty’s mind when he heard “stranger,” it was “doom.” And in the eyes of Keith McBooty, doom was no good.

Our hero tried to play it cool, at first. He shook the stranger’s hand, then crushed it, then shook it a little more. Still, the stranger didn’t like that. He even called the police. And in the eyes of the police, Keith McBooty was no good.

So now, Keith McBooty is sitting in the county jail, trying to make his case to the judge that he’s an innocent man and a red-white-and-blue-blooded American, but it turns out the judge is all the way in FLORIDA because of his daughter’s wedding, so Keith McBooty is there all alone! And, let me tell you, as soon as Keith McBooty realizes this, well, heck, he just walks straight out of jail.

After that escape, practically every girl in the state threw herself at good old Keith’s feet. But each time one landed there, he’d just tell ‘em, “raincheck, babes,” and head off with his boyfriend, Ricardo, because he was gay.

Odysseus spent years trying to return home and win his wife back from her suitors.

Ugly Odysseus: Behold, the Trojan Horse!

Greek Soldier: Wow! But are we sure that’s a horse? The face looks a lot like yours.

Ugly Odysseus: Are you implying that I have a horse face?

Greek Soldier:No. I honestly just thought that was supposed to be you.

Ugly Odysseus: [Tying himself to the mast] Watch out, men! Though those maidens on that rock may be tempting, in truth, they are sirens, out to kill you. Beware their deadly song!

Sirens: It’s okay, you can calm down. We’re not interested.

Ugly Odysseus: I have been your captive in this palace for seven years. I beg of you, release me!

Calypso: Sure.

Ugly Odysseus: Just like that? I thought you were madly in love with me! If not, why keep me here for so long?

Calypso: I was hoping to start a freak museum.

Zeus: You have done much to vouch for this Odysseus, Athena. Are you certain you wish to cast your favor upon him?

Athena: Almost. Let me just take a look at him first.

Zeus: [Sculpting a bust of Odysseus] Here.

Athena: Hmm. I think I’ll wait to cast my favor upon Bradley Cooper instead.

Ugly Odysseus: My dearest! I have returned to rescue you from your suitors once and for all!

Ugly Odysseus’ Ugly Wife: Don’t worry, babe. I don’t have any suitors.

Man: I think I’ve lost my wallet!

Mounted Police: I’m on the case! Was it stolen?

Man: Wait, never mind. It was in my other pocket.

Mounted Police: Oh. Well, you let me know if it gets stolen.

Woman in Medieval Costume: Thou art a thief!

Mounted Police: Where? Everybody put your hands up!

Woman in Medieval Costume: No! Stop! We’re doing Shakespeare in the Park, you idiot!

Mounted Police: Gee. Um. My bad. For what it’s worth, you guys are really convincing actors.

Mounted Police: Hey there, sorry to bother you. I just wanted to tell you that if anything of yours gets stolen, you can call on me!

Man: Agh! Get away from me! I’m allergic to horses! (Starts choking)

Mounted Police: Oops! Sorry. I guess I’ll call 911?

Mounted Police: Is that a robber over there?

Passerby: No, just a happy, strolling couple.

Concerned Citizen: Please, officer, we need you! The crowd at this protest is out of control!

Mounted Police: Is there a robbery for me to stop?

Concerned Citizen: Not that I know of, but there are hordes and hordes of angry people who are about to injure each other!

Mounted Police: Sorry. I’m on my lunch break.

Family Being Robbed: Help us!

Mounted Police: Never fear—I’m on my way!

Segway Police: (Arrives there much quicker)

Mounted Police: That lady and her small child look lost! Maybe I can give them directions.

Small Child: Can I pet the horsey?

Mounted Police: I am a real police officer.

Chief: Goddammit O’Reilly! I thought I told you to stop watching those prank shows on the job.

O’Reilly: No, this one was filmed near Lahey Park last Wednesday. It caught footage of the strangler in the background. Look.

• IT’S TIME FOR…PRANKS IN THE PARK!

Chief: This just seems like pranks.

• JIMMY THINKS HE’S OUT FOR JUST A REGULAR WALK…

O’Reilly: Hold on a second.

• BUT HE’S ABOUT TO GET A FACE FULL OF CASSEROLE!

Chief: Wait! Is that the strangler in the back?

• LOOK AT THAT WET, JUICY CASSEROLE, DRIPPING DOWN JIMMY’S FACE!

O’Reilly: Yeah, right in the top left corner. Haha, that’s so much casserole.

• BUT IT’S NOT OVER YET! HERE COMES PAPA GOODLES!

Chief: What’d you say?

• HE’S GOT ONE CASSEROLE IN EACH HAND…AND HE’S READY TO SHARE!

O’Reilly: Nothing. Top left corner.

• READY OR NOT, JIMMY—HERE COMES YOUR CASSEROLE!

Chief: I can’t see the strangler anymore. There’s casserole covering half the camera!

• BOY, THAT CASSEROLE SURE LOOKS STINKY! DON’T PUKE, JIMMY!

O’Reilly: I know, so great, right? Classic Goodles!

• JIMMY ISN’T DOING TOO WELL…BUT PAPA GOODLES SURE IS!

Chief: That’s enough, O’Reilly! Is this clip going to help with our case or not?

• THAT’S WHY THEY SAY, “IF GOODLES IS THE MAN, CASSEROLE IS THE PLAN!”

O’Reilly: Sorry, sir. Yes. The strangler actually kills everyone in the show right…here.

• AND WHO DO WE HAVE HERE? IS THAT ANOTHER PRANKST—OH GOD! GOD! NO! NOT PAPA GOODLES! HE’S STRANGLING GOODLES! HELP HIM, JIMMY! WIPE THE CASSEROLE OFF YOUR EYES AND HELP HI—LOOK OUT, JIMMY! NO! HE GOT JIMMY, TOO! PLEASE! SOMEONE! HE’S COMING FOR ME! AHHHH!

Chief: Wow.

O’Reilly: I know. It’s tough to watch. But the good news is I’ve just run a scan of the footage and was able to find both the strangler’s identity and address. He’s ours. Now what do you say we go put that bastard in cuffs?

Chief: Sure, but…can you rewind the video first?

• IT’S TIME FOR…PRANKS IN THE PARK!

O’Reilly: Of course, sir. Here. Do you think I’m missing something?

• JIMMY THINKS HE’S OUT FOR JUST A REGULAR WALK…

Chief: Shh. No. It’s just—this next part’s really funny.

As soon as you catch sight of her, your heart begins to pound. You’ve been planning this moment for ages, but suddenly you feel lost. You think that maybe you should just go home. She looks busy. But are you really going to wimp out again? Man up. You take a deep breath, before opening your mouth to speak. Here goes nothing.

“Put your hands up and open the safe! This is a robbery!”

Idiot. Put her hands up and open the safe? How is this teller supposed to open anything with her hands in the air, Kevin? God.

But it’s too late to back out now. All you can do is hope that she and everyone else was too frightened by your gun to notice your slip-up. Your gun…which is still in your backpack. Crappp. Quickly, you swing your bag off your shoulder, unzip it, and​​—fuck it’s stuck, stupid thread, c’mon, yes—pull out your gun. Now they’re screaming. Phew. What comes next?

A couple dozen seconds later, you remember. Firing a round into the air, you shout, “Everybody get d—ouch!” Is that plaster? You make a note to not aim directly above your head next time. That really hurt. You want to cry, but you can’t. You cry a little.

Thankfully, several people have begun to sob, drowning out the sound of your tears. You lower your voice to sound more masculine. “If nobody tries anything, nobody gets hurt!” You sound ridiculous. Deep voice. Who are you trying to kid? Be natural! Pathetic.

You face the teller again, pointing your gun at her in such a way that she can’t see how sweaty your pits are. “Open the goddamn safe, woman!” you command, right before hiccuping. “That was the gun,” you assure her, then hiccup again. Do they have a water fountain in here?

Unfortunately, while you’re scanning the walls for one, or at least a vending machine to use once the heist is done, the teller leaps back toward her desk and smacks a button beneath it. An alarm starts blaring, as red lights flash from the ceiling. This is not good. You look terrible in red light.

Fleeing for the exit, you trip on your shoelaces. Stupid, stupid. You never tie them tightly enough. Now the police are swarming you. You’re in handcuffs. But it’s fine, you tell yourself. You didn’t even really want to steal from this place, anyways. You were just trying to get to know it. When the time is right, you’ll rob the bank that’s meant for you.