“Marco!“
“Polo!”
“Parko!”
“… whut?”
“As in ‘park it’ so’s I c’n talk wit’ ya, dude.”
“Yeah? What ‘ bout? It’s late. Dude needs his beauty sleep, yeah?”
“Seriously, dude? I gotta tell ya, ya c’ld do tha Rip van Winkle thingy six times runnin’ an’ it wouldn’ do ya no good aytall.”
“[…] Ya better tell me what ya want now, dude, afore I try ta help ya wit’ yer beauty sleep needs!”
“Knock yerself out, dude. Which is what’ll happen if’n ya try ta take a swing at me. Klutz.”
“Same as you!”
“Yeah, speakin’ a klutzes, ya got any idee how old OC is?”
“What? He pissed off his body parts again?”
“Never mind his. I’m sweatin’ mine! Mebbe OC don’t mind workin’ when most peeps are lookin’ forward ta layin’ on tha beach. But I do.”
“Dig. Mebbe he ain’t tired a tha daily grind. But I sure am! What c’n we do about it?”
“Get him a, like, reminder? That he’s supposed ta be, like, kickin’ back? Mebbe thinkin’ ’bout retirin’?”
“Dude. He’s gotta lose tha spare tire he’s a’ready got afore he c’n start thinkin’ ’bout replacin’ it.”
“Ya ain’t helpin’, dude.”
“Ok, ok. What kinda reminder?”
“Somethin’ old school. Old as he is. Like … yeah! A rockin’ chair!”
“No, dude. Just no.”
“Huh? Why not?”
“Dude. Ya don’ give no musician a rockin’ chair. Ever. Not even ta someone like OC who pretends ta be a musician. Too dangerous.”
“What tha hell is dangerous about a rockin’ chair?”
“D’pends on what kinda rocks, don’ it? Wrong kinda rocks, wrong kinda attitude, a dude could get stoned, yeah?”
“This is bad how?”
“Size matters, dude. An’ that, like, assumes that ya get a rockin’ chair an’ it stays a rockin’ chair.”
“I don’ think …”
“How ya gonna know? Right now, OC’s practicin’ fer a rock program. What if’n the next one calls fer, like, Strauss? Is he suddenly gonna have a waltzin’ chair?”
“Dude …”
“‘R Sousa, an’ now he’s got a marchin’ chair …”
“Dude …!“
“‘R some peep calls fer a ’70s revival party, an’ he’s tryin’ ta hold down a disco chair …”
“Gangsta.”
“A rap chair?!?”
“Yeah. One that I c’n mebbe rap ya upside tha head wit’!”
“Only if’n ya c’n catch it, dude. An’ if’n it goes ta hip hop, I don’ like yer chances a doin’ that. I also don’ like OC’s chances a stayin’ seated in it.”
“I don’ like tha chances a OC doin’ nuthin’ but standin’ up tha rest a his life. Sheesh.”
“Yeah, ’cause tha chair’s dangerous. Too much trouble. Like I said.”
“So like what do we do now? Wait fer OC ta, like, kick tha bucket afore we c’n get some rest?”
“Um, dude, OC kickin’ tha bucket won’t do us no good. I wouldn’t go there …”
“Right. Where do I get to go, then, dude?”
“Wherever OC goes, and we does whatever OC does. Deal.”
“Argh.”
You mean I have to spend the rest of my life with the dudes!?