“Yo, dude. What is that?”
“A necklace, dude.”
“Yeah? Hand it here.”
“OK, it’s a picture of a necklace. Smartass.”
“Somebody ’round here’s gotta be smart. Not you, obviously.”
“Yeah right. So what’re them thingies on the necklace, genius?”
“Horoscope symbols?”
“Not ta any horoscope I ever heard of.”
“What’s Wikipedia got?”
“Uh … words.”
“Duh. What d’they say?”
“Here. You read ’em.”
“Gaaa. The one time a dude actually needs OC, and is he anywhere ’round? ‘Course not!”
“Actually, dude, I hear tell he’s gettin’ pretty round.”
“Don’t go there, dude! He can control-X us. Remember?”
“Command-X!”
“Whatever!”
“So it says here that one a these thingies is a simple organic chem …”
“Simple?!?”
“Shaddap an’ listen fer once! ‘… a simple organic chemical in the cata … cata … catasomething family.'”
“Right. This family. Who’s the godfather, what’s their turf, and what’re they pushin’?”
“Drugs. What else? Runnin’ ’round yer brain, no less.”
“An’ they’re makin’ dough outa this stuff? Don’t they got marketing problems?”
“Huh?”
“Surely somebody in tha syndicate can come up wit’ a better name for this ‘love an’ passion’ drug than ‘dope-amine’. Yeah?”
“An’ what would you know ’bout it, studmuffin?”
“Same as you, dude!”