“Hey dude!”
“Y’know somethin’, dude?”
“Everybody knows somethin’, dude!”
“Yeah. Like, I know how quiet and peaceful it used to be ’round here. Who woke you up, and why?”
“So you don’t want to know about Mr. Quilly getting spammed.”
“Mr. Quilly?”
“Yeah. ‘We have carefully researched your blog …’ What a hoot!”
“Clueless slackers. Must be Nigerians.”
“How come you’re in such a black mood today?”
“Do I gotta spell it out in black and white, dude?”
“Try me.”
“OK. Nigeria and Albania.”
“Huh …?”
“You can’t get more black and white than that, dude, and still stay on this planet.”
“You’re making me see red, dude!”
“Oh. So now you want a ticket to Moscow. Better start up another pay blog or three.”
“Moscow?!?”
“In Russia, dude. Where the founders saw red all the time. That being their hair color, y’know.”
“I don’t think so, dude. Neither do these dudes. We’re puttin’ that trip on ice!”
“On ice? That would be Greenland, dude.”
“Dude?”
“Yeah?”
“Maybe you should open the pay blog this time. You certainly seem to know about false advertising.”
“You’d prefer Vermont? That’s pretty green. Most of the time, anyway.”
“It’s also not a country, dude.”
“Not yet, you mean, dude.”
“What?!? I thought that was just Texas.”
“Not just Texas, dude. Vermont, and Hawaii, and Georgia, and the entire Pacific Northwest, not to mention the First Peoples nations.”
“That’s it, dude. I’m seceding from this conversation, and I need me a ticket to ride.”
“What color?”
“Blue. There any beer left in that fridge?”
– O Ceallaigh
Copyright © 2009 Felloffatruck Publications. All wrongs deplored.
All opinions are mine as a private citizen.
Purple prose primary.