“Yo, dude!”
“Whut?”
“What’s that on tha ceiling?“
“Salty.”
“[…] say whut?“
“Ya heard me.”
“Do I look like a sheepdog, dude?!? B’sides, they’s only one a ya. Which is enuff, yeah? I wouldn’ try ta herd ya even if’n I wuz a sheepdog.”
“Whaddaya want from me, dude? Ya said it was on tha sealing. It’s gotta be salty. Now if’n ya said it wuz on tha lakeling ‘r somethin’ …”
“Dude, this is soundin’ kinda fishy …”
“An’ a damn big fish it is, dude. Sure hope it don’ fall on ya from up there, might break somethin’. ‘Less a course it lands on yer head.”
“I don’ see it, dude.”
“Then howcom yer askin’ me ta tell ya what’s up there, dude?!? Ya ‘spect me ta listen fer it wit’ a stethoscope ‘r somethin’? ‘Cause if’n ya do, ya shoulda told me it wuz on tha hearling.”
“O .. my ..”
“An if’n ya ‘spect me ta get up there wit’ a ladder an’ feel ’round fer it, wit’out tha courtesy a tellin’ me that it wuz somewhere on tha touchling, ya c’n think again!“
“Riiiight. All’s I know, dude, is that if’n this ling thingy is as big as ya say it is, an’ ya leave it up there wit’out findin‘ it, it’s gonna wind up on tha smelling, an’ then somethin’s gonna get seriously control-Xed.”
“Command-Xed! Like what?”
“Like tha landlord givin’ us p’rmission ta live here! That smelling thing could be, like, a real bone a contention.”
She: “Bones is easy. Just boil ’em up!”
“It’s OC’s Quilly, dude. How’d she get in here?”
“She, like, owns tha place, dude? I don’ like her chances a gettin’ bones a contention inta a pot.“
She: “That pot thing would be something I’d be asking you dudes about, hm? Yes, those are funny bones to be messing with. But you know what you get when you boil funny bones, right?”
“Um …”
She: “A laughing stock.”
“Hey!!“
She: “What? You don’t find that humerus?”
“Has she got a bone ta pick wit’ us?”
“Nah. We got one ta pick wit’ her!“
He: “Chill, dudes. Don’t let what she’s telling you get to you. It’s all a big fibula.”
“Du-UUUUUUUUUUUUDES!!!!“
