Hey Millionaire. you haven’t touched your dinner, and you love poached turbot served with wild mushrooms, affilla cress in a spiced squab jus.
Not hungy.
But Millionaire, you have to eat if you want to grow up and be big and starchy like The Koch brothers.
I don’t wanna.
You don’t wanna be the Koch brothers?
No.
But they have a billion dollars, Millionaire.
Don’t care.
Don’t care?
Don’t care.
What’s wrong Millionaire?
Nothing. Stupid.
Stupid? Millionaire, watch that tongue, or I’ll be forced to wash it with luxury soap that costs over $1041 per kilogram.
President’s stupid.
President’s stu… Oh ho, ho, ho! Sounds like somebody’s been reading the newspaper again. What did I tell you about reading the newspaper, Millionaire?
“For Buffets only.”
That’s right. And do you want to be a Buffet, Millionaire? I didn’t think so. Now, eat your turbot and let’s get you to the enema room. Your colon isn’t going to clean itself.