Hey, what’s up Towel Guy? I’ve seen you around and I just wanted to say I really dig how you, uh… Hello? Towel Guy? Can you hear me?

Oh, I get it. You’re grooving out. Probably don’t want people coming up and talking to you and — oh, snap! — I’m doing it right now. My bad, Towel Guy. I’m sorry. You keep, ah… toweling and dancing there and…

Shit. Can that guy even hear me? Hey, Towel Guy, if you can hear me, stop dancing.

Dude’s still dancing. Well, I give up. Later, Towel Guy.

Damn, not even a “Bye!” Or a friendly nod?

You know what? FUCK YOU, TOWEL GUY. FUCK YOU AND YOUR FUCKING TOWEL! I HATE YOU! YOUR TOWEL IS STUPID! It probably stinks and is all wet and mildewy!

All right, listen, Towel Guy. We both said some things we didn’t mean. Mostly me, I know. It’s cool. I just dig your moves is all. Was hoping I could hang, but I see now that you are a one-man-one-towel wrecking crew. And I respect the crap out of that.

So let’s just part ways. Bye, Towel Man.

I kind of love you.