“Dude! Clothes?”
“Yeah, dude, ’cause it’s mornin’, the party’s over, and it’s like 10 degrees outside. Dam near that inside. And I don’t know how you can stand there with nothin’ but that stupid grin on your face. The antifreeze must‘ve worn off by now, and I dunno how any dude could smile with the hangover you oughta have.”
“But, dude, I gotta. In honor of the day! Not to mention the season.”
“The season is cold, dude. What the hell are you talkin’ about?”
“Happy Nude Year, dude!”
“Oh, fer … Dude, you’re nuts!”
“What about ’em?”
“OK, that’s it. The poster of Christmas Adam is comin’ down now. Dude, even if you were worth lookin’ at – which you ain’t – you’d never get away with it. Not for a minute, certainly not for a year. Wal-Mart and Target wouldn’t permit it.”
“What do they care?”
“You kiddin’ me? What would they sell? An’ all the sweatshops in China an’ Bangladesh an’ places like that who make the duds they sell now would go broke.”
“An’ this is bad how?”
“Hmmm … I hate to admit it, dude, but … good point.”
“So you’re gonna help me celebrate Nude Year?”
“Hell, no!”
You know, I had never considered what the dudes might look like naked. Now I wish I had never considered it. It’s a virtual nightmare.
Sounds cold.