Dude and Dude: The Squeaking Streets of Frisco

“Ow … ow … ow … ow ….”

“Surfboard really clocked you one that time, didn’t it, dude?”

“It wasn’t the board, dude. It was …”

“No, wait, dude, let me guess:”

Dude, dude, dude of O‘ahu
Surfsuit’s just a leaf …
Watch out for that reef!!



“I don’t think I can take this kind of exposure right now.”

“Poor dude. I’ll get you some ibuprofen, a bathing costume that actually covers the vital parts, and roll out this something from our archives. From back in May of ’07, in fact.”

“Why that one, dude?”

“It commemorates OC’s latest hike up Nob Hill, dude. And …”

“And what?”

“It’s one of our greatest hits!”

“Ow … ow … ow … ow ….”


“Are we having fun yet, dude? Dude? Yo! Earth to Dude …”

I left my heart …”

“Yeesh. And your voice in Millinocket. Can it, dude. I don’t want my San Francisco treat to be a ticket for noise pollution.”

“Yeesh yourself, dude. I don’t know the way to Millinocket, and don’t want to find out. Matter of fact, if I never hear anything about Maine again, including your so-called ‘humah’, it’ll be too soon. Not to coin a cliché or nothin’. Now, if you want to know the way to San José …”

No way!! Have mercy, dude! Or you’ll make me get out the snow shovel that I brought along on this trip just for you.”

“Riiiight. ‘Mercy’, he says. Dude, for all you know about it, mercy is French for mahalo. Besides. What you so uptight about? It’s not like anybody’s going to hear me out here.”

“‘Cept me. Guess my ears don’t count. I love you too, dude. Or are you tellin’ me to run over to that construction site for some peace and quiet?”

“Yeah, dude, you do that. Go over there and give my nose a rest. Whatsamatta, lobsta boy? This place too …”

Lobsta boy?!? Dammit, dude, I’ve about haddock with you.”

“Aha. [sniff, sniff] So that’s it.”

“Dude, when we get to O‘ahu, I’m marooning you on Coconut Island. Without sunscreen. We’ll see who’s lobsta boy then.”

Surf City, here we come …”

Ack!! Help, help. Dude’s not being repressed.”

“You were sayin’ ’bout noise pollution? I don’t hear none. Except from you.”

What?? The place is full of it, dude! Even if I give you a pass. You got construction and destruction. You got people yellin’, dogs barkin’, trucks brakin’. And that’s on the hills that ain’t straight up and straight down. You got sirens for the police, for the firefighters, for the ambulance drivers, for the mayor, for the dog catcher. Who’s probably after those barkin’ dogs. Or maybe it’s the city botanist, who’s after the barkin’ trees. Dammit, man, even the streets are squeakin’!”

“The … streets … are … squeakin’ … Oh. That’s the cable for the cable cars. They don’t run on wishful thinkin’, y’know.”

“Well it’s damned strange to be sitting on the side of a road with nothing on it, trying to eat your lunch and listening to it roar and rumble. Makes me wonder what’s going on, under the ground …”

“That does it. No more classic rock for you.”

“What? So I gotta listen to you mangle Tony Bennett? Sorry. This squeaking bugs me. I’m hearing squeaks in the road, it’s gotta mean there’s a squeaky wheel someplace. It’s gotta get grease. Who the hell goes down there to put the grease on the squeaky wheel, and how do they get down there?

“You’ve been spending too much time with O Ceallaigh. All this thinkin’ can’t be good for you. Chill, dude.”

How can I chill with all this squeakin’ goin’ on?!?

“You’d prefer the Maine woods, where it’s quiet enough to hear the blackflies coming to take you away?”

“Beats lying awake at night in your hotel room, listening to barkin’ trees and the voice in your ear saying six hundred flippin’ dollars a night. It’s obscene, man! Six hundred clams in Boothbay will buy you a whole flat. ‘Course, the bathroom in this place was as big as a clam flat. If it actually had clams, it might have been worth half the dinero.”

“So what? Wasn’t your money.”

“It was somebody’s, dude. And there’s a lot of somebodies going hungry so that this somebody could impress a client.”

“With clams? Must have been steamers. They sure got you steamed up.”

“Dude? Did you just crack a Maine joke?”

“First time for everything, dude. And a last. I’m going to get some San Francisco food. While we still can. You comin’?”

“Yeah, yeah. Got someplace in mind? Someplace that don’t squeak?”

  – O Ceallaigh
Copyright © 2007 Felloffatruck Publications. All wrongs deplored.
All opinions are mine as a private citizen.

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1 Response to Dude and Dude: The Squeaking Streets of Frisco

  1. Quilly says:

    Hello, dudes. OC is going to be in SF for an extra day. Why don’t you two pack a picnic lunch and hop on BART? You could head out to wine country, spend the whole day … come back in time for dinner.

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