Through our almost unbelievably extensive worldwide network of undercover reporters here at Just a Smidge, we were able to secure an exclusive transcript of the impromptu meeting in Ryan Lochte’s Olympic village dorm room, just minutes after the story broke about the harrowing robbery he and his fellow party-goers were involved in. You’re welcome, America.
Ryan Lochte: Hey, why are you dudes in my room?
Jimmy Feigan: Did you seriously tell your mom we were robbed at gunpoint?
Lochte: Jeah, bro. When we got back this morning she asked me for some money. I didn’t have any because of last night, so I told her we got robbed. Pretty smart, huh?
Jack Conger: Smart? Are you kidding, dude? She told a reporter. It’s on the news!
Lochte: No way, bro. For reals?
Gunnar Bentz: Yes, for reals. Look at my phone!
Lochte: Dude. I’d better tweet about this right now.
Feigan: That’s a bad idea.
Conger and Bentz: Yes, very bad idea.
Lochte: Dudes, shut up. I’m the oldest. Plus, I’m rich. I totally know how to handle the media, bro.
Feigan: Why did you tell your mom we were robbed? Why not just say you spent all your money?
Lochte: I dunno, bro. I didn’t think of that. The booze at that France House was flowin’, yo! Plus, being robbed could be cool. Check it out, I’m sayin’ the dude had a gun to my forehead but I was all like, ‘whatever, bro.’
Feigan, Conger, and Bentz: Do not tweet that!
Lochte: Just did, bros! This is going to light up my Tinder account! Oh, man! I shoulda said I ninja kicked him. Dang. Maybe I’ll add that.
Feigan: You’re an idiot!
Lochte: Whatever, bro. I got a gold medal here.
Conger: We all got gold medals, you moron. We were in the same relay.
Lochte: Whatever, dude. You and Gunnar were only prelimers. I won the final.
Feigan: (coughs) Phelps
Lochte: Oh, whatevers, bro. I have twelve Olympic medals. That’s second most.
Feigan: Dude, you’re like thirteenth on the overall list.
Lochte: Second most for swimmers, bro.
Feigan: Dude, you’re tied with Jenny Thompson, Dara Torres, and Natalie Coughlin. And Jenny Thompson has two more golds than you.
Lochte: Second most for dudes, dude!
Conger: Yeah, behind Phelps.
Lochte: Whatever, dude. If it wasn’t for Phelps, I’d be Phelps.
Feigan, Conger, and Bentz: What?
Lochte: He’d be Ryan Lochte. You know what I mean. Whatever. I’m awesome.
Feigan: Which do you think is higher? Your IQ, or the pool temperature?
Feigan: You’re an imbecile. What happens when they get the video from the gas station?
Lochte: They’re not gonna have video.
Bentz: Every place has video.
Lochte: No way, bros. This country is totally bogus, man. My Tinder account wasn’t even working at that lame-o gas station.
Lochte: Jeah. It said there were no hot babes who wanted to date me within a mile of that place. That never happens.
Conger: We were at a gas station at six in the morning on a Sunday, dude. Why would there be any chicks around!?
Lochte: There’s always chicks around, bro. Always.
Feigan: Oh my God! Shut up! They’re going to get that video and you’re going to cause an international incident with Twitter because you lied to your mom! Are you kidding me right now? Why did you destroy that dude’s sign anyway?
Lochte: I don’t want to talk about it.
Feigan: I don’t care! You screwed all of us and probably the whole U.S. team. Why did you go berserk on that guy?
Lochte: Because I told him we were famous American swimmers, and he asked if Phelps was with us. He wanted his autograph. I hate that. Besides, you were the ones kicking the bathroom door.
Bentz: Because you locked it, dude!
Lochte: No, bro, I Lochte’d it. Get it?
Lochte: Hang on, let me take a quick selfie. *click* Oh, yeah, I’m SnapChatting that one. Look how good my hair looks. Hashtag woke up like this, hashtag ice blue goes good with gold. I’d better Instagram it, too. Hashtag no filter needed.
Feigan: Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! We need to tell coach that we weren’t robbed. He’ll know what to do.
Lochte: No can do, bro. We’re already blowin’ up on Twitter. Check it. Four hundred re-tweets already. Boom! Robbery it is. Let’s get our story straight.
Feigan: What story? We busted up a gas station and then paid the guy for the damage. That’s the only story! They’re gonna have us on video coming home at the metal detectors with our cell phones and our watches.
Lochte: We’ll just say the bad guys only took our cash. Besides, they probably don’t have cameras either. I’m telling you, this country is bogus, dude.
Feigan: Armed street thieves in Rio de Janeiro only took our cash, and let you keep your nine bazillion-dollar Ralph Lauren watch? Do you even have any idea what country we’re in?
Lochte: Jeah, bro. Rio. Duh. 2016 Rio Olympics. Hello? Oh, man, Tinder is blowin’ up. There’s honeys everywhere wanting to make sure I’m OK!
Feigan: Oh my God!
Conger: We can’t do this. They’re going to know we’re lying.
Lochte: Relax, bro. I’ll handle the media. I’ll go talk to Matt Lauer and Billy Bush again. They love me. Billy’s got a serious man crush on me, bro.
Feigan: Oh, great! That should go well. Aren’t you even the slightest bit worried about losing your endorsement deals?
Lochte: No way, bro. Speedo? Ralph Lauren? Those dudes need me. I’ll totally handle this.
See you soon,
Copyright © 2016 Marc Schmatjen
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