“OK, dude, wuzzat?”
“What’s it look like, dude?”
“Yeah, but what kind?”
“Old?”
“That ain’t a kind, dude, it’s a label. An’ it ain’t a very kind one neither.”
“Hokay, it’s well weathered. Happy now?”
“Yeah, kinda.”
“Riiight. Watch yerself, dude, ya c’ld wind up tha next White House press secytary.”
“That’d be you, dude. ‘Cause yer great at distractin’ peeps.”
“From what?”
“From like answerin’ a dude’s question. What kinda post is it?”
“I dunno. A fence post?”
“What?!? Ya tryin’ ta get OC thrown in jail or somethin’?”
“[…] whut?”
“Fer writin’ ’bout stolen goods!”
“Get a clue, dude. What wit’ all tha playin’ that dam’ horn a his he’s been doin’ lately, not ta mention takin’ a work break ever’ now an’ then so’s he can afford ta play? What makes ya think he’s got time ta write ’bout somebody passin’ stuff ovah no fence? ‘R about ennythin’ else neither.”
“Ya tellin’ me he ain’t got time ta post?”
“Yeah. So’s ya get pics a old posts. Deal, dude.”
“He coulda dug up one a our old posts instead, yeah?”
“Uh huh. Wuzn’t it you who wuz complainin’ just now ’bout how callin’ somethin’ old ain’t very nice?”
“Du-UUUUUUUDE!!”
