IMAGINE - RLM Edition

Imagine being Mike and having to be all like "damn, AIDSMoby, you fuckin' funny, all hilarious with your bald head and horrific poo-poo pee-pee song. I would totally review films with you, both my character and the real alcoholic Nazi me." when all he really wants to do is fuck Jay's boi-pussy in the studio again. Like seriously imagine having to be Mike and not only sit across that table while Jack flaunts his flannel shirt and problem glasses in front of you, Rich's laughter barely drowning out Jack's gay lisp and reddit-tier opinions, and just sit there, Wheel after Wheel, Re-View after Re-View, while Jack told you about the latest 8-bit indie game he got for $2.99 on Steam. Not only having to tolerate his monstrous opinions on film, but his haughty attitude as Jay and Beardfat tell him he's STILL GOT IT and DAMN, AIDSMOBY REVIEWS FILMS LIKE *THAT*?? because they're not the ones who have to sit there and watch his pale has-been techno DJ face contort into grimaces you didn't even know existed before that day. You've been fucking nothing but a healthy diet of Jay's waxed & bleached ass and Rich's sweaty fat rolls and later alleged holocaust victims for your ENTIRE CAREER coming straight out of the boonies in Wisconsin. You've never even heard opinions this retarded before, and now you swear you can taste the PBR that's leaking out of his crusty mouth as he sucks it in and stares contemplatively at you, smugly assured that you are enjoying the opportunity to get paid to sit there and revel in his "enlightened (for that is what he calls himself)" hipster bullshit, the hipster bullshit he worked so hard for with Pixies albums and sriracha sauce in the previous months. And then Jay calls for another take, and you know you could gas every single Jew in this room before liver failure could put you down, but you sit there and endure, because you're fucking Mike Stoklasa. You're not going to lose your Patreon over this. Just bear it. Hide your face and bear it.