Dude and Dude: Surf Breakin’

“Yo. Dude.”

“Yeah?”

“What’s, like, this roarin’ sound? We got, like, tha whole Air Force circlin’ tha island tanight?”

“It’s tha surf, dude.”

“That loud?!? Not cool, dude. It’ll break!”

“Duh …”

“No duh, dude! If’n ya c’n hear tha internet stressin’ like this, it’s gotta have too many dudes surfin’ it, yeah? It goes down, who’s gonna see my tweets?!?”

“They’ll havta get ’em tha old-fashioned way.”

“Like how? IRC or somethin’? Even that won’ work if’n …”

“They’ll havta hear ’em, dude. Comin’ outa yer bird brain. Sheesh. Not computer surf. Real surf! Ya know, like water? Waves?”

“Water waves? What if’n I wave back?”

“They’ll knock ya off yer feet, dude. Especially tanight. They’re rollin’ in from some storm out in tha ocean somewheres, an’ they’re huge. They got all kine warnin’s up fer ’em. An’ when they gets big, they get loud!”

“So they’re throwin’ a party! Why didn’ ya say so?!? Let’s go!”

“Riiight. Let’s not an’ say we did. So’s we don’t havta find out what else they’re throwin’. Like, coral rocks at yer head. ‘Course that wouldn’ make much a a difference in yer case, but I don’ feel like tryin’ ta clean up tha blood. We’ll jus’ stay here an’ watch tha videos where it’s safe, like.”

“Yer sure ’bout that, dude?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“We’ll have internet?”

“Unless OC ain’t paid tha rent an’ fergot ta tell us.”

“OK, then, I guess, dude. But …”

“But what?”

“If Coral breaks up on a dude, is she a beach?”

“Not yet. Gotta change her name first.”

“Her name?”

“Sandy.”

“Dude.”