Last night I had a dream that I pooped my pants at work, so I went directly to the dry cleaners while still wearing my soiled pants and underwear. I took them both off at the help counter, and so I was standing there bare-assed in front of everyone, obviously upset over what happened.
They had a service to help comfort people in these situations. First, they gave me a generic looking pair of underwear to put on so I didn’t have to be naked. Then, they handed me a phone and said, “Why, it’s Ian MacKaye, and he wants to say hello!,” à la the episode of The Simpsons where Homer gets a call from Magic Johnson. I told Ian that I was a big fan, and he told me a member of Fugazi had pneumonia. The entire service cost $972.