"66 bottles of beer on the wall, 66 bottles of...uhhh...geez! That looks like Pamela Anderson, eh?"

Shane's eye's are riveted to Pamela's general frontal area. Could this be a hallucination?

"Don't lose count, man" advises Don, blearily. "We got 'em on the run."

"No way, hoser," says Bob. Me and Doug are the champs at chugging, eh?"

The pile of Molson Canadian has definitely been reduced noticeably.

"Look, man, I have gotta talk to Pamela. This could be my one lucky break to the big time," pleads Shane. "Let's just take 5 and then I'll be back."

"Look man," says Don, "Ya gotta ask yourself...what is MORE IMPORTANT....fame, fortune, and all the sex you can handle...or holding your beer???"

Shane thinks hard. His brow knots with concentration. Beads of sweat dot his brow.

"Pass me the next one, man..."