Well, don't you look handsome, Mr. Ludwig.
Well, thank you, Miss Lucy.
Hey.
Kind of love you.
Kind of love you.
Hey, Loose, did you hear that?
Lucy, where are we?
Lucy, get out of the house!
Lucy, this is the last air car I can smell in your kitchen forever.
I'm fucking sorry, man.
Well, guess what?
You've been hiding around here, and I can't do it too much longer, because they're gonna
find out sooner or later that you were here.
Oh, God, then I'll just leave, because right now you're the one being too loud.
You're the one bringing the heat off.
You don't fuck around so much next time, and as soon as you post, as soon as you post,
I want you to wake me up so we can get the fuck out of here, okay, man?
Don't fucking touch me!
Shoo!
Loopholes, the Bill of Rights was not written in regards to the World Wide Web.
A familiar ruler declared, Leader W stole a third term.
He was set on eliminating those who previously criticized him.
They're the guys that the climate change had caused the shortage of the Internet.
He convinced all in the face of the energy crisis that such threats should be eradicated.
Enter First Amendment rights revised.
Exit posts.
Anyone found posting would be dealt with under the strictest, maximum extent Leader W declared.
His militia of cowboys performed a viral cleansing of all, but won.
Did you post?
Why did you wake me?
Maybe she would have seen one of your other 30 posts right now.
You think about that?
I don't care how many close calls we have to make with the militia.
I have to keep doing this.
She's going to respond as long as I keep posting.
Everyone who's posted has been silenced by now.
If you and I just, you know, if we just turn ourselves in, all we're going to have to do is serve a little jail time.
Look, I'm telling you, she's just waiting for the right moment to get back to me.
Nothing like this has ever happened before, okay?
Don't touch me!
Don't touch me.
We're going to find him.
What the hell you will, he doesn't post.
All contrary.
He does post.
Oh, God.
W teaches you French, you sound miserable.
Did you ever read the sex books?
There's some pretty nasty stuff and stuff we can react to.
Get away from me.
Don't touch me.
Where are you from?
No.
You don't know anything about love.
Get away from her.
We're going to find him.
Okay, this is the last place I can hide, okay?
So, last post.
You better make this one count.
Albert, relax.
I just posted.
Ah, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
Oh, God, shit, shit.
That's for us.
Okay, um, you shut the fuck up and I'm going to go handle this.
Oh, shit.
Um, he's posting to her right now.
I just say no.
Uh, so with that being said, I hope it is known and that you are aware that I am in full compliance with the law now.
And I sincerely apologize for...
Okay, okay, okay.
Oh, Jesus.
Lucy.
She's free.
She's free.
Someone's coming.
No!
Run!
Shut the fuck up!
Lucy, I'm kind of glad to see you.
Oh, yeah, boy.
We kind of glad to see you, too.
Son of a bitch!
Why don't you come switch places with her and we'll see who's the son of a bitch?
Just go.
Just keep vlogging.
Go.
Just go.
Yeah, boy.
Keep vlogging.
I got your first entry.
The blow-by-blow I'm about to give to your blogging wife's hand.
Fuck this woman!
Then Albert reveals himself as not dead.
Then he beats the shit out of the mechanic.
Then he says, I think it's your time for a tune-up.
Then Albert looks at Lucy and Luke and they want to give him a hug.
And he's like, don't fucking touch me!
And then Albert says, nothing like this has ever happened before.
And it never will.
Oh, man, I am an awesome blogger.
Or should I say, storyteller?
Nope, blogger.
Not storyteller.
Just a blogger.
Bad storytelling.
Good blogging.
Bad story-ing.
Yeah, that sums it up.
