“Hey, dude, didya hear? OC an’ Quilly are comin’ up in tha world!”
“‘Bout time. Like how? An’ will any uv it trickle down ta us?”
“Not ‘less ya get tha dust all over ya when ya empty tha machine, dude. They got themselves a Roomba!”
“Jeez, dude, how lame can ya get?”
“Lame, like rhymes with cane? Like what they’re both carryin’ these days?”
“Nah, dude, lame like why tha hell ‘r they settlin’? Ya wanna do somethin’ impressive, get like a Houseba, yeah?”
“Baby steps, dude, baby steps. The way OC freaked over that grandmother robot a couple years ago, I’m surprised he got this far.”
“That wuzn’t even fer real, dude!”
“And we are?”
“Who sez we ain’t?!? We’re as real as ennythin’ tha President tweets!”
“‘Zactly, dude. So they set Rosie up in tha livin’ room …”
“Wait, what?!? They called this thing Rosie??”
“Well, yeah …”
“What kinda kinky …?!?”
“Get yer mind outa tha gutter. ‘Rosie’, like in ‘Rosie tha robot’ outa tha cartoon show ‘Tha Jetsons’. This one don’ wear yer ring, dude.”
“As if I c’ld afford one.”
“They’s always Crackerjacks, dude.”
“Yeah right. Do me a favor an’ let me know when they start puttin’ ’em in packs a ramen, yeah? We c’n still afford that. Maybe. Along wit’ internet faster than dial-up modem once tha fancy peeps glom up all tha internet fer themselves. Speakin’ a lame ol’ farts.”
“Careful, dude! Remember, control-X!”
“Ask me if’n I care, dude! Way things ‘r goin’, OC’s gonna havta own Facebook ‘r somethin’ in order ta be able ta be able ta tell ennybody whether he’s command-Xed us or not! ‘R fin’ out how many otha peeps got tha bright idea a namin’ their Roombas ‘Rosie’. Yep. Thought so.”
“80% a peeps ‘r namin’ their Roombas, dude?!?”
“When yer hot, yer hot, dude. An’ that’s one helluva lot a lame names fer overweight Frisbees that run inta things deliberately an’ whine while doin’ it!”
“So you c’n do better?”
“What’s my competition?”
“Well, a bunch a peeps named their Roombas ‘Mo.'”
“Right. Then they got two more, named ’em Larry and Curly, put ’em all on tha same floor an’ let ’em whack inta each otha.”
“So who’s an ol’ fart now, dude?!? ‘Mo’ is supposed ta be tha ‘Microbe Obliterator’ from WALL-E – which was made in 2008 an’ is plenty ol’-fart enough!”
“Uh-huh. What else they got?”
“Well, I was gonna mention ‘Sucky’, but afta yer reaction ta ‘Rosie’ …”
“Next!”
“I dunno, dude, tha lists go back ta like 2009 …”
“Roombas are that old?!? They really oughta have Housebas by now …?!?”
“Yeah. An’ ain’t you tha dude what jus’ said that peeps like us w’ld nevah see ’em? We be like tha dogs in one household, where tha peeps said they called their Roomba ‘tha robot’, mostly ta assure tha puppies that they’re still higher in tha pack hierarchy than tha machine.”
“Fer now.”
“Dude. But ya still ain’t said what name you’d be stoked about.”
“Tango.”
” … whut? Why?”
“B’cause I don’ care what it says on tha box, dude, ya ain’t doin’ no rhumba with it!”
“But ya don’ wanna tango wit’ it either. Ya do an’ it’ll cost ya cash!”
“So we oughta put pics a Kurt Russell on it.”
“Huh?”
“An’ that Stallone guy.”
“Yer losin’ me, dude …”
“Tango an’ Cash! Buddy cop shoot-em-up movie from 1989. Quilly loves that kinda stuff.”
“Ew.”
“Loves Schwarzenegger too. Speakin’ a robots.”
“Man, dude, I really dunno ’bout this. I’m OC, an’ Quilly goes off somewhere an’ says ta me ‘I’ll be baaack’, I’m thinkin’, like, splitsville! An’ I’m, like, eggin’ him on, b’cause what happens ta him happens, like, ta us! An’ I ain’ done yet!”
“Nah, OC’s chill. He an’ Quilly ‘re solid.”
“OK, dude. But if she don’ get enuff vacay one a these days, an’ she beats up on OC in her sleep thinkin’ he’s a centipede ‘r somethin’, don’t come cryin’ ta me.”
“I won’ be, dude. Trust me.”
Don’t worry, dudes. OC is the one who flipped out while asleep, decided my hand was a centipede, and tried to kill it. In my dreams I’m usually up to my ears in weird and looking for OC to come rescue me.