Episode II, in which Nadeer Khan retaliate against white devil for restore honor of Muslim wife so Mohammad can beat it out of her later

CHAD, unemployed and home alone while EMILY is at work, watches "The Departed" for the 74th time this month and wonders whether masturbating to a Matt Damon movie (again) is gay puts down his copy of James Joyce's Ulysses and pets MADDY lovingly.

(cell phone rings)

CHAD: Hello?

NADEER: DEATH TO THE INFIDEL!



CHAD: I'm sorry?

NADEER: GOD IS GREAT!

CHAD: Tommy?

NADEER: GOD IS GREAT!

CHAD: I think you have the wrong number. I'm hanging up now.

NADEER: No, no, don't! It's Nadeer Khan!

CHAD: Nadeer Khan, the future husband of my sexual-conquest-turned-cunt-of-an-ex-girlfriend?

NADEER: Speaking.

CHAD: Oh. Hi. How are you?

NADEER: Fine thanks. Listen, sorry about all that "God is great" stuff a second ago. They make us do that anytime we talk to white people.

CHAD: Ain't no thang. Just let me know if you have to do it again and I'll turn down my handset.

NADEER: Will do.

CHAD: So what up dog?

NADEER: Nothing really. Got engaged.

CHAD: I heard that. I think I might know the girl. Or at least I think I may have been fucking her from 2005 to 2006.

NADEER: Yeah, she's cool.

CHAD: Yeah, great. Listen, I just moved and I haven't had my mail forwarded yet, so let me give you my new address and you can get my invite on its way.

NADEER: Chad --

CHAD: In fact I just put my burka in the dryer on de-wrinkle, so I'm ready to rock this shit proper.

NADEER: Chad --

CHAD: And is it cool if I wear a big Catholic crucifix over top of it, Flavor Flav-style? I'm not religious, but still, players gots to represent! Hey-ohhh!

NADEER: Chad --

CHAD: HEY-OHHH!

NADEER: CHAD, YOU'RE NOT COMING TO THE WEDDING.

CHAD: Excuse me?

NADEER: I'm sorry.

CHAD: Is this because I'm Catholic?

NADEER: No, not entirely.

CHAD: What is it then, Nadeem?

NADEER: Nadeer.

CHAD: Right. Shoot me straight on this, Kazaam: Is this because I fucked your wife?

NADEER: Yes.

CHAD: Is it because I fucked her in a variety of ways in variety of locations while wearing a variety of masks?

NADEER: Yes.

CHAD: Is it because I have eczema?

NADEER: No.

CHAD: Is it because I could sketch, with police artist-precision, your wife's somewhat overgrown vagina?

NADEER: Yes.

CHAD: Is it because you're afraid I'll tell the story of the time your wife and I were having dirty drunk sex and she puked all over the bed?

NADEER: Yes.

CHAD: ...And how later that night, after I had changed the sheets, she peed all over herself, and the bed, and me?

NADEER: Yes.

CHAD: Funny ending to that story: I had already changed the sheets once before she peed, and since I only had two sets of sheets I had to cover the bed in old t-shirts so we wouldn't be sleeping in puddles of your wife's piss and vomit.

NADEER: Yes, that is certainly a humorous image.

CHAD: Not to mention a whole lot of vaginal fluid. I mean she was really getting into things before she passed out, not to mention the fact that I was bringing my A-game that night. For me the key to drunk fucking is to drink beer, not bourbon, on nights when I know I'm getting sex -- or, on nights like that one, dirty fuckfest sex.

NADEER: Yes.

CHAD: I mean the only thing that I didn't see coming out of your wife that night was poop, and knowing her she was about one cranberry vodka away from boarding that train.

NADEER: Certainly.

CHAD: Speaking of which, her preference for cranberry vodkas made it pretty, pretty hard to get her puke stains out of my clothes.

NADEER: I'm sure.

CHAD: And you know how cranberry juice is supposed to keep girls from getting UTIs? Well it doesn't do shit in the way of preventing yeast infections. Because your dumb bitch of a wife gets yeast infections like I get boners.

NADEER: I was not aware of that.

CHAD: WHAT?! How could you miss it?! Did you not see the half-empty tube of Vagisil standing front-and-center in her medicine cabinet? Hell, that thing is probably completely empty by now. Maybe that's how you missed it.

NADEER: Perhaps.

CHAD: Yeah, except she's certainly not shy about telling people about it. At least not me. Whenever she got a yeast infection she was all, "Don't even bother drinking tonight or giving me that 'let's-fuck' look, because I can't." Like I wanted to fuck an ointment-caked vagina anyway.

NADEER: No.

CHAD: I mean, I would, but it wouldn't be something I would like call people to brag about.

NADEER: Sure.

CHAD: And plus, it's not like I only drink so that I can fuck.

NADEER: Certainly not.

CHAD: I drink to black out -- or as I call it, "time travel."

NADEER: I've heard that.

CHAD: Believe me, if I fucked every time I drank, I'd be a lucky, lucky man.

NADEER: Yes.

CHAD: Can you imagine? I bet that's what it's like to be Matt Damon. Speaking of which, have you seen "The Departed" read Ulysses?

NADEER: No.

CHAD: Two words: Fuck-ing awe-some.

NADEER: Chad, listen --

CHAD: I mean, just the first twenty minutes pages of that movie book make me want to shoot my wad. And then the part where the Dropkick Murphys song dramatic foreshadowing kicks in? Fucking rockin'.

NADEER: I have to go.

CHAD: I would suck Matt Damon's cock. James Joyce is good at writing books.

NADEER: Chad, please refrain from calling my wife in the future. Yesterday's conversation really upset her.

CHAD: Whatever. I'll call when I want. Like when I'm drunk. Or fucking. Plus, if she really wanted to be rid of me she'd change her phone number.

NADEER: She has. Twice.

CHAD: Yeah, well I'm fucking awesome at Googling shit.

NADEER: Please stop, Chad.

CHAD: Of course, this isn't the first time I've Googled your wife, if you know what I mean. HEY-OHHH!

NADEER: Goodbye, sir.

CHAD: Hey, brain surgeon, next time call from a private number. Now I'm gonna call you every time I jerk off to thoughts of your wife.

NADEER: GOD IS GREAT!

CHAD: Fuck you, Ahmed.

(click)