“Bugger.”
“Really, dude? I didn’t know ya …”
“Git yer mind outa tha gutter, dude, ‘r I’ll let it bite ya.”
“Worse an’ worse, dude!!”
“Argh. Just shaddap an’ get tha tongs, willya?”
“Tongs?? When did ya get inta S&M?!?”
“When ya started buggin’ me so much that I couldn’t get afta tha bugs!”
“WhaaAAAat? Tha Russians ‘re spyin’ on us?!?”
“They’d get ta hear ‘zactly what they daserved ta, dude. Like how, while a dude a my acquaintance is bein’ an idiot, tha bug is gettin’ away!”
“What bug?”
“Tha big-ass centipede that I’d be tryin’ ta catch ‘n zap if’n it weren’t fer you!”
“A centipede? Where? I don’ smell it.”
“They don’ got no smell, dude. Damn good thing they don’t, ’cause if’n they stunk half as bad as they look, ya’d be runnin’ outa tha house screamin’ fer yer life ‘stead a gettin’ in my way.”
“Huh. If’n it’s ugly but don’ stink, how can it be a scentipede, yeah? It’s gotta be a sightipede, amirite?”
“… o … my …”
“Amirite??”
“Yeah, well, dude, now that tha thing’s made its escape, ya get ta listen fer it skittlin’ across tha ceiling in tha middle a tha night …”
“So now they’re soundipedes?”
“… an’ hope it don’ land on yer head an’ suck yer brains out! ‘Course, it may take one taste an’ give it up, nothin’ ta eat here.”
“Tasteipedes? Make up yer mind, dude. What are they?”
“Almost as much trouble as you! If’n this one comes back wit’ friends, dammit, we may havta try doin’ wit’ ’em like tha Chinese do.”
“Yeah?”
“Fry ’em up, stick ’em on a stick, an’ eat ’em. Speakin’ a taste.”
“Acquired taste, yeah, dude?”
“Dude.”
“But I gotta question.”
“I wuz afraid a that.”
“How do tha Chinese peeps get that stick in there?”
“How tha hell ya think?”
“Bugger! … y’wanna get yer hand offa yer face, dude?”
“No. But I gotta wash tha taste a this outa my mouth. Get tha chocolate-covered almonds, willya?”
“Sure! Thanks, dude!”
“Hey! Where ya goin’ wit’ those?! Bring ’em back here! I want some too!”
“Jebus, dude. If’n ya jus’ wanted me ta have somemonds, why tha hell didn’t ya say so?”