Randy's lying on the couch, legs propped lazily against the arm-rest of his couch, drinking his third can of Root Beer for the day. Sharon cut off his supply of real beer, so Randy obviously has to improvise. A wobbly grin is etched across his face, for no specific reason.

All that's on his mind is not his wife, not even his kids. But his weed farm, Tegrity Farms. His weed business is very successful, at the moment. Especially with his shitty advertisement, commenting on unsuspecting Twitter posts, it brings all the hobos in.