See, just two days ago, on the flight home, we were discussing Ray.
We don’t see Ray enough.
Because he calls three minutes before he’s going somewhere to invite us to come with him. “Um… I’m going to this bar, on Santa Monica? There’s going to be a gospel band–”
“– and a chicken who plays checkers?”
“And there’s free drinks for fifteen minutes, so y’all should come.”
“I’ll put you on the door.”
And you’re like, “Ray. I’m at my wedding.”
I know. Still.