KING: There he is!
BINKY (DRINKY): Ugh. I can’t talk right now. my mouth tastes like cotton that was soaked in years of self-hatred and despair.
BINKY (DRINKY): I’ve had a headache since this morning. It won’t go away, no matter what I try. It’s a spectre of regret, bound to me in Dickensian fashion by chains forged during my life.
KING: So you had a good time.
BINKY (DRINKY): We’re going out again tonight. You in?