"What do you make of von Swaggerboast?"
"Of von Swaggerboast? I make of him that he possesses a johnson fourteen miles in length, and that it is only thanks to his spatiotemporal trousers that he is able to lead something resembling a normal life at all."
"Yes yes, I've heard the same from the horse's mouth. But . . ."
"But? Has he ever given you cause to doubt his word?"
"Hmm. I suppose not. It's just that . . . okay, for instance, the other day he told me he punted my son into the sun."
"Mm. And where is your son?"
"I don't know. He's been missing for six weeks now."
"Indeed. It seems von Swaggerboast may very well have done as he says and drop-kicked your son into that heavenly sphere. We certainly can't rule this out as a possibility. And to my eye, the whole thing only speaks to von Swaggerboast's throbbing integrity.
"Yes, I suppose you're right. But do you really believe that he is all dogs, as he claims?"
"That depends. There are several schools of thought on just what is meant by this. Some believe this brash boast to mean that von Swaggerboast's consciousness is expanded to such a degree that he in fact experiences himself to be all dogs in the cosmos. At times I myself have even given this theory some credence, particularly when I detect a glint of brazen swaggerboastery in the eyes of a passing mongrel.
"An alternate theory runs that what appears to be the form of von Swaggerboast is in truth 3-5 dogs jammed into a man suit. Personally, I am more inclined to subscribe to this latter theory, as the man generates a great deal more turds than can be reasonably explained. Still, the debate rages on."
"But do you really believe he bent God over a barrel and-"
"Shush!! There he is now, coming around the bend! Quick! Pretend to be inanimate objects!"