Michael Phelps Goes To A Barbecue

Frank: Hey Bill, you want another dog?

Bill: from the pool Ah, I’d better not. The wife’s got me on a strict diet.

Frank: Oh ho ho! The ol’ ball n’ chain runs a tight ship!

Bill: Like you wouldn’t believe.

Phelps: Psh, women – always trying to boss us around.

Bill: …you can relate?

Phelps: Can I ever. This one time I was banging this smokin’ hot Aussie chick and she was all like, “Michael, you NEED to take the gold medals off BEFORE you pound my sweet ass. The clanking is obnoxious!”

Frank: Wow.

Bill: That’s…terrible?

Phelps: Tell me about it. Then she made me a sh*tload of pancakes.

Frank: That actually sounds pretty great.

Phelps: Yeah, it was awesome.

Pause

Bill: …Hey, why don’t you guys hop in the pool? It’s hot as hell out.

Frank: That sounds go-

Phelps: Don’t mind if I do. disrobes

Frank: …you wore a Speedo to a barbecue?

Phelps: Yeah, I know what you’re thinking – outline of the package could distract from the six-pack. But it’s a sacrifice we all make, am I right?

Frank: Not really.

Phelps: hops in pool How bout we play a little Marco Polo?

Bill: I thought we were just gonna relax.

Phelps: Come on.

Frank: Yeah we wer-

Phelps: Come on.

Bill: Fine, but go easy.

Phelps: OK, ready? MARCO!

Bill: POL-F*CK!