“Dude! Did you see those comments? I always thought you were weird, but I never thought we were scary!”
“It was the leotard, dude. You’re not exactly Playgirl material, you know. The mere thought of you in tights would drive a teetotaler to drink.”
“Well, she won’t be doing any of that at our place.”
“What? Men in tights?”
“No, dude. Drinking. Or didn’t you see that puddle in our driveway?”
“Puddle … in … our … driveway …”
“I don’t see how you could have missed it, dude! The water line to the house is busted, and now we’re ancient mariners.”
“You and me both, dude. Dammit. Water, water everywhere / And not a drop to drink. Or flush.”
“This is, like, bad!”
“Is somebody coming to fix it?”
“In Hawai‘i?!? Maybe next week sometime.”
“But I hafta go to the …”
“Neighbors, dude. And hope they’re friendly.”
Alas, the dudes speak truth. Quilly and I have been exiled to the Land of Dodgy Internet until someone can find and patch the hole in our water line. This may mean that we’ll be hard to find for a little while. Please do not adjust your LCD display, the problem is not in your motherboard. This isn’t exactly one of the lasting memories that Quilly was hoping to create, but, Mick, you can’t always get what you want.
Please bear with us.
– O Ceallaigh
Copyright © 2009 Felloffatruck Publications. All wrongs deplored.
All opinions are mine as a private citizen.