“Merry Christmas, dude.”
“Dammit, dude!”
“… whut?”
“How many Christmases I gotta tell ya? I ain’t marryin’ no chick what only shows up like once a year!”
“That’s, like, once more than yer gettin’ now, dude.”
“[…] Dude?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’ mind yer marathon streamin’ tha Grinch flicks durin’ tha holidays. But do ya gotta like model tha Grinch??”
“Riiight, dude. Afta that crack, ya’d betta not be askin’ me what I’m gettin’ ya fer Christmas.”
“I don’ scare that easy, dude. What’re ya gettin’ me fer Christmas, huh?”
“Something”.
“What thing?”
“Ya’ll find out on Wednesday like ever’body else, dude. Ya got two days ta wait. Deal. It’s a thing, like I said.”
“Hokay, dude. When is it?”
“Christmas?!?”
“Tha thing!”
“Dude. Yer not saposed ta be drinkin’ tha eggnog until tha Christmas Eve party! I hope ya left some! A thing’s a what, not a when!”
“Sez you. An’ I’d really like ta know what kinda idiots schedule a meetin’ this close ta Christmas. Ain’t they got no clue what plane tickets cost this time a year? If’n ya c’n even get any fer any money?”
“It’s tha last pre-mission meetin’ a Santa’s elves, markin’ down tha dudes what get coal in their stockin’s! What in tha …”
“An’ are we both goin’, ‘r are ya shippin’ me outa here so’s ya c’n get some peace an’ quiet?”
“Don’ tempt me, dude. I c’ld still get Amazon ta ship yer thing ta an island an’ make ya go get it.”
“Which island?”
“Christmas Island, a course.”
“They wouldn’ know what I wuz talkin’ about.”
“An’ I do?!?”
“Make it Iceland, dude. At least they have regularly scheduled flights.”
“Nah, dude, I wuz thinkin’ a mebbe havin’ ya swim fer it.”
“An’, in Iceland, their thing may even be in session.”
“[…] Tha’s it, dude! Whatevah it is yer on, I want some. Give.”
“Happy ta oblige, dude. Here. Read.”
“‘A thing is a governin’ assembly …'”
“Yeah …”
“Ya mean, like tha instruction book that helps ya assemble yer thing when ya take it outa tha box?”
“Dude?”
“What?”
“Yer weird.”
“Same as you, dude! Ain’t tha English language tough enuff wit’out ya messin’ wit’ tha concept a what a thing is?”
“Tha Icelanders don’ seem ta have no prob wit’ it.”
“Yeah. It’s Iceland. Their brains ‘r prob’ly frozen. So this is their house a Congress, huh? Did they get tha idee fer tha name from NPR?”
“Don’ think so, dude. Most like tha otha way ‘round. Assumin’ tha NPR peeps wuz evah smart enuff ta think a it.”
“An’ what’s that funny-lookin’ P? Doesn’t that make it an ‘alping’ …?”
“That, dude, is a thorn. Pronounced ‘th’.”
“Riiight. Ya wuz jus’ sittin’ in wait ta stick me wit’ that one, wuzn’t ya? An’ ya interrupted me.”
“From what?”
“From readin’ yer stuff. Which says that tha Icelandic house a Congress is called ‘alpingi’ … OK, ‘althingi’.”
“So?”
“Tha Icelanders call tha place they make their laws a thingy?!?“
“That is what it says there.”
“Ain’t that, like, kinda disrespect?”
“I dunno … ya wanna show me that Instagram thread ya wuz bangin’ away on ‘fore ya pushed this chick on me? Again?”
“No.”
“‘Course not. ‘Cause ya wuz pilin’ on ta all tha peeps callin’ yer congressional representative an’ mine a dweeb wit’out a clue. As if we didn’ put her there. Looks ta me like tha Icelandic thingy is, like, a whole lot more respectful than what we voted for an’ sent ta tha thing in DC.”
“Dude?”
“Yeah?”
“Yer confusin’ me. But … dude.”