I say well hell ain't no other laser tag arena where you can call time out and pop a quarter in a hole in the drywall and have a pipin' fresh hot dog slide right out of another hole in the drywall, and she says boss quit fixatin' on the damn hotdogs, well more like shouted really, anyway she says no it ain't got nothing to do with the god fucken' hotdogs, nothin' has anything to do with the bastard sufferin' hotdogs god bitch is what, she rants about the hotdogs another couple minutes
To be fair, neighbour, EVERYONE talks about the hotdogs. We done expanded those too. Got the dog dispensers everywhere now, we even got 'em in the parkin' lot. Get down on your hands and knees, pop a quarter in the ground, and open wide like the Pope kissin' the asphalt and get that 'dog ticklin' year tonsils, that's how folk say hello round here
We got squibs in the laser tag y'see. You know squibs? Like someone gets shot up in a movie, the lil packs o' red corn syrup with some gunpowder inside, guy offstage presses a button when the good guy shoots his gun and kasplatch the fake blood goes flyin', well our laser tag vests are stuffed full o' squibs. Birthday boy takes a hit, pshht, red all over the walls.
'cept we don't use corn syrup, we use ketchup! For the dogs! That was my idea!