Hank: “Would you stop spitting flames every two feet? We’ve been in Los Angeles this entire trimester. No squirrel could survive a climate like that.”
“What’s a—”
“I will not have such outlandish tongue in my esteemed presence, for slain wildebeests lay within the black disease just ahead.”
“Is that why the sours are so shy?”
“Dearest Duke, dinosaurs have not trampled this terrain for many a year.”
“How many?”
“Quite a lot.”
“That’s tons of birthdays.”
“Correct, Duke. The earth is happy dinosaurs have been vanquished from existence. Just look at that cowboy singing over there; he seems quite content with the situation.”
“I kind of like his style if you care to ask me, Hank.”
“Figures.”
“How many fingers?”
“Ninety-nine thousand.”
“That’s a lot of palms, right?”
“Good lord.”
“So they say.”
“Nothing can snap you out of this hallucinogenic spell.”
“Maybe a witch who is Jack of all trades or something. Can I go swimming, Hank? It’s awfully hot and the sours seem to be having fun.”
“You dare dip one toe in that swamp and it will be the last you ever take.”
“My dream is to catch fish in a barrel. Olly Olly Oxen Free.”
“Do be careful, Duke, for we both know you cannot swim. As for myself, I will be heading over to the Page-Turner Museum. Meet me there if you survive the plunge.”
“I’ve chickened out, Hank. Those sourpusses don’t seem like they’re having fun. It’s a bubbling mess out here anyways, or something.”
Hank and Duke at the La Brea Tar Pits
jrleyvas | October 24th,2012 | California, comedy, Commentary, Fiction, Humor, Travel, Witty humor, Writing | No Comments »
Duke: “That desert was sure scrumptious, Hank.”
Hank: “Would you stop spitting flames every two feet? We’ve been in Los Angeles this entire trimester. No squirrel could survive a climate like that.”
“What’s a—”
“I will not have such outlandish tongue in my esteemed presence, for slain wildebeests lay within the black disease just ahead.”
“Is that why the sours are so shy?”
“Dearest Duke, dinosaurs have not trampled this terrain for many a year.”
“How many?”
“Quite a lot.”
“That’s tons of birthdays.”
“Correct, Duke. The earth is happy dinosaurs have been vanquished from existence. Just look at that cowboy singing over there; he seems quite content with the situation.”
“I kind of like his style if you care to ask me, Hank.”
“Figures.”
“How many fingers?”
“Ninety-nine thousand.”
“That’s a lot of palms, right?”
“Good lord.”
“So they say.”
“Nothing can snap you out of this hallucinogenic spell.”
“Maybe a witch who is Jack of all trades or something. Can I go swimming, Hank? It’s awfully hot and the sours seem to be having fun.”
“You dare dip one toe in that swamp and it will be the last you ever take.”
“My dream is to catch fish in a barrel. Olly Olly Oxen Free.”
“Do be careful, Duke, for we both know you cannot swim. As for myself, I will be heading over to the Page-Turner Museum. Meet me there if you survive the plunge.”
“I’ve chickened out, Hank. Those sourpusses don’t seem like they’re having fun. It’s a bubbling mess out here anyways, or something.”
“Then allow me to educate you.”
Tags: California, commentary, dinosaurs, duke, fiction, hank, humor, la brea tar pits, Los Angeles, travel, writing
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