“Nice drive, dude.”
“Yeah, dude. Ain’t every day we get out inta the wilderness wit’ OC an’ his biology class.”
“Wilderness, dude? Ya fer real? Ever hear ’bout not seein’ the forest fer tha trees?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, I don’t see no forest, I don’t see no trees. Where’d they go?”
“It’s a clearcut, dude. The forest dudes cut ’em all down.”
“That’s ug-lee, dude, rippin’ up the forest like that! Where’re we gonna put the homeless squirrels? We gotta stop this!”
“People need tha trees, dude.”
“Then people gotta figure out how ta need less of ’em.”
“When did ya turn inta a tree hugger?”
“The minute I saw my first chainsaw massacre. Whats’amatta wit’ ya, dude? Ain’t ya got no sympathy fer yer fellow creatures?”
“Ain’t written one yet.”
“Written one?”
“Symphony fer Wood Winds. Oughta be music t’yer ears.”
“Maybe fer the screech owls, dude. Or tha cuckoos. So if ya ain’t got no sympathy fer them, how’s about fer me?”
“Now whaddaya want?”
“A bathroom.”
“Huh? Ya can’t go fertilize one a them trees ya like so much all of a sudden?”
“Dude! Dude might take me fer a bear!”
“Yeah right. Bare butt.”
“‘Zactly, dude. I’m gonna need toilet paper.”
“Tree Hugger Dude’s gonna need toilet paper. Y’got any idea how crappy that is?”
“If I don’t get outa this car soon …”
“Hold it, dude. Let’s break this down. Y’wanna save the trees, but y’also wanna use toilet paper ta do yer business so ya don’t haveta make like a bear in the woods. How many sheets?”
“One.”
“A paper, dude!”
“Oh. That. Maybe 10 of ’em.”
“Right. Multiply by five …”
“Du-uuuude! I ain’t got diarrhea. Not yet, anyway.”
“Yeah, but ya gotta remember that the chicks gotta use this stuff every time …”
“TMI, dude!”
“TS, dude. Fer this countin’, yer half a chick. That’s closer than ya normally get. Ya c’n thank me later.”
“Don’t hold yer breath waitin’, dude.”
“Suit yerself. Yer the one worryin’ ’bout bein’ bare. So ya use 50 sheets a paper a day. What’s on a roll, 200? That’s two rolls a week, near enough. Which is a pound a the stuff. So ya go through 50 pounds a toilet paper a year.”
“Yeah?”
“One a them trees out there makes about 100 pounds a toilet paper. So’s ya cut down one a year just ta take care a yer butt an’ mine. Any idea how many trees there are in an acre a ground?”
“Who the hell ya think I am, OC?”
“Right, I fergit, we’re in tha wilderness an’ yer cut off from yer internet supply. Let’s assume that the trees are all 10 feet apart from each other, that means there’re 400 trees in an acre. That means one acre a trees produces a year’s supply a toilet paper fer 800 people, thereabouts. How many people in the US?”
“Sheesh … 300 million?”
“An’ presume that all of ’em are usin’ toilet paper. That’s about 40,000 acres a trees, enough ta cover about one fifteenth a the state a Rhode Island, that we gotta cut down every year just ta wipe yer donkey. An’ I ain’t said nothin’ yet about lumber, ‘r plywood, ‘r firewood, ‘r any a the other stuff we get from trees.”
“Dude – I love the trees, but I ain’t sure I can do without the TP.”
“Y’ain’t left-handed, are ya?”
“Nah.”
“Y’ll be fine then. Just don’t get yer hands mixed up when ya clean yerself.”
“Eewwwwww!!”
“Wuss. Hey, there’re some loggers at work over there. Y’wanna go hug some trees?”
“What, dude, ya crazy? Ain’t we got a chainsaw in this rig?”