STEVE: Hello, ladies. I’m sixteen. No, really, it’s true. I know I have the patchy wisps of a thirty-something Hair Club client in a ‘before’ photo, but I promise you, I am sixteen where it counts.
BRANDON: STEVE, buddy, what did I TELL YOU?
STEVE: Relax, Brando, the ladies love the stamina of a young man.
BRANDON: I meant the tank top, bro. It’s like the test pattern before a film strip about how to become a steel mill worker who has a side gig drawing maps for World War II operations.
STEVE: Lighten up, dude. Go date the bigot already so we can put all this behind us and move on.
BRANDON: Steve, that’s NEXT summer.
STEVE: Oh. Shoot. Well, we have that to look forward to, then.
