Dude and Dude: Ain't Misbehavin'

“Hey dude!”


“I need to go to the store. You got any …?”

“No, dude, I ain’t.”

“You don’t look like one to me.”

“One what?

“An ain’t. Whatever an ain’t is. You look to me like a standard issue dude with a mouth that might be sharp enough to open his wallet with.”

“Dude, what is your problem?

“Besides needing to go to the store? It’s your language, dude. Don’t say ain’t!

“Why the hell not?”

“Because your mother will faint.”

“She’d better not. I’ve already replaced the motherboard on this laptop once. She gives me the spinning rainbow of death again, she’s in the garbage.”

“Where if she weren’t already dead, the smell would kill her. Nice, dude. Don’t leave out any paint buckets while you’re cleaning up, or your father will fall in them.”

Look, dude. Is it my fault that OC hasn’t yet figured out how to work Photoshop?”

“You’re just complainin’ ’cause you’ve been lurking around OC’s blogs for more than three years, and no one’s seen your smiling face yet. ‘Course, I haven’t seen your smiling face either. And your scrunched-up one is ug lee. So lighten up and cut OC a break. Sisters have cried and brothers have died trying to figure out Photoshop.”

“Are you done now, dude?”

“Done? With what?”

“With your lullaby. ‘Cause if you are, then I’m going to pretend to be Quilly and rock you to sleep.”

“Dude. I didn’t know you …”

With a real rock. Say goodnight, dude.”

“Goodnight, dude.”

Don’t say ain’t
Your mother will faint
Your father will fall in a bucket of paint
Your sister will cry
Your brother will die
And that’s the end of the lullaby

  – O Ceallaigh
Copyright © 2009 Felloffatruck Publications. All wrongs deplored.
All opinions are mine as a private citizen.

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