"Yo Tyrone"
"What's good Jamal"
"I got a new Glock today"

The audience braces itself, for they are about to witness the strength of street comedy

"Gonna have to hunt down Terry and git my money"

Several members of the audience suddenly drop dead from on-spot heart attacks due to the comedic stress on their hearts. Stronger members of the audience begin their sacred sacrifices to the comedy gods, splitting their lungs with blood as they guffaw to the heavens, praying that the gods deem their sacrifice worthy. Tyrone and Jamal make a quick exit, gathering their belongings and paychecks. The deed has been done and they run to their cars, each one knowing that they will never land an acting career like this again, and will have to rough it in the gritty rap industry. As the two men speed away, the studio implodes, sending blood and guts rocketing into the sky, while shrieks of terror and comedy tear at their ears.