Thursday, February 25, 2010

The Best Chat in the History of 'Merica

me: Sarah, did you know that last week, my friend and I bought 180 dollars worth of soccer apparel? Of course you didn't.

Sarah: I did.

me: YOU DID?!

Sarah: Of course.

me: Oh.

Sarah: Also. Weren't you going to offer to sell it to me?

me: Yeah,but here's the thing, I told you once, and I told you twice- I DO NOT deal in yen. Ever. It's JUST policy, Clark. Nothing personal. So if you can scrounge up some Euro,'ell, I'll even take Rupees. But NOT. Yen. Ever.

Sarah: Why are you racist? Against Asians? And please don't call them Japs anymore.
That was so 1943.

me: You WOULD make it about race. That's just like you. It's got nothing to do with race. It's all about perceived value.
If it takes me 40,000 of something to pay for a bag of chocolate skittles, I might as well be paying with bellybutton lint!

Sarah: Please don't try that again. Bellybutton lint is not a valid currency.
I have finally learned.

me: Yeah. That's one of those lessons you have to learn the hard way. I've been in the business long enough to know...and another thing - will you get your Private Investigator friend off my back?!
I know he wants in on the fireworks game but he's gotta be patient.Asians are poor when it comes to expedited shipping.I mean, ya know, the countries. Not the people.
I got nothing against the japs--ER, uh, japanese americans...the japanese.I have nothing against the japanese

Sarah: Nothing against them but resentment.When are you going to stop blaming them for your circus failures?

me: My circus failures? MY circus failures?! We both know that Ling-Ling was working for the Irish and that that line was not secure from the start.
And frankly, I think it's cruel of you to bring that up. You know my thorax still keeps me up at night.
Lawdy, between you and the IRA I'll never live this down.

Sarah: Oh I forgot to tell you.I now work for the IRA.My code name is Ling-Ling.
And it always has been.

me: I thought you were dead.Oh Ling-Ling. I'm so sorry. How can i make it up to you?
I've always loved you. From the start.
Ling-Ling...did the child survive? OUR BABEH?!

Sarah: Yes. She is tall now.I mean really tall.10' tall.She works in the circus.
Just like her ole dad.Did.

me: Is she tall? JUST tall? Or does she have the unfortunate disfigurements that so often accompany the tallness?

Sarah: She is beautiful.Even her third eye is lovely. Blue and green and shiny.
shining, rather. Just like the sea you left us by. When you deserted us for a trifle.
I couldn't believe you'd left me for a dessert.

me: I know, I know. I feel awful...mmmm feelwaful...falafel...but dear. did you TASTE the trifle? I mean, it was life changing trifle...


Plus I thought you were dead.

Sarah: You're always saying that when it's convenient for you. Like that time you thought I "died" in the grocery store when really I just didn't want you to buy that bag of frozen chicken wings because we already had three at home?
You know, some women's men tell them that they are second in their lives only to God.
In your life, I'm second to taste treats.

me: Oh Ling-Ling, you were never second. Third, in fact. Gotta remember fantasy curling. But how am I supposed to know you're alive when you don't even high five me after I beat the Frogger highscore at the YMCA?I mean, how can I even FEEL like a man without a high five every once in awhile? I mean, how many headaches can one person have? And why does that even interfere with highfiving? If I knew you wanted a high five, I would high five you from my death bed? I guess that's what I get for marrying an O'Rourke.

Sarah: Alright.Now you've gone too far. Just because the O'Rourkes have a genetic predisposition to having fingers on our foreheads doesn't mean you need to be getting all nasty about my family.We have good genes!
It's the O'Rourke in me that made me so musical! It's the O'Rourke in me that made me a good jigger! It's the O'Rourke in me that enables me to whistle with my ear that favorite tune of yours, the one that can make your calves unknot and your cows come home.

Ben: You know what really hurts? I don't know if i even WANT my cows to come home anymore.

Sarah: I hate to say it, Benxander, but you are the fairweather farmer
you promised yourself you'd never become.

me: I have become so many things I used to hate. The casual sportcoat over a trendy graphic tee. The reliance on predictive text. what have I become? A fairweather farmer, I guess. See, even my memory is going? And the question marks? The superfluous question marks?Sometimes I wish I died in that grocery store instead of you.


Sarah: I could make that happen, Ben. I could kill you in a grocery store. Then we would both be dead.

me: And all those chicken fingers would go to waste - WAIT -I'm sure our ten foot daughter could knock em out.

Sarah: Better to waste than on the waist as Papa O'Rourke always says.Our 10' daughter can do everything. She's magical. And imaginary. In that way, she takes after you.



1 comment:

Unknown said...

haha where did this even come from?