Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Jamal: Buddy Buddy Buddy, Buddy Hooly, why is it you no longer play the guitar?
Buddy Hooly: Jamal, you are so ignorant. You of all people should know it is no longer feasible for me to play the guitar. Ever since the day I went to the beach and headed out to the waves to body surf in sunny San Diego—by the way, what do you call a waffle on the beach?
Buddy Hooly: What what? Answer the question. Say you don’t know.
Jamal: Okay… I don’t know.
Buddy Hooly: Ha, you are so ignorant. You call it a sandy eggo… a s-a-n-d-y e-g-g-o… get it? A San Diego?
Jamal: You are so strange.
Buddy Hooly: As I was saying, body surfing, I caught an amazing four-footer and on the way in I felt something latch onto my cheap swim trunks, you know the ones, with the built in mesh underwear…
Jamal: I know the ones.
Buddy Hooly: Well I never found out what it was, probably like a great white or something strong like that; that would explain why I wasn’t able to shake free from its muscley grasp. Long story short, I jabbed my fingers extremely hard on the ocean floor and am no longer able to play.
Jamal: First off, there was no great white—
Buddy Hooly: Yes! There was! And I know why too.
Jamal: Oh really, and why is that?
Buddy Hooly: Obviously he/she/it didn’t like my lame shorts. I know exactly how this unfortunate mishap could’ve been avoided. Only if I had some wicked-rad board shorts from Matix, with their ‘100% polyester supersuede material, fitted upper-body, with 4way stretch lower-body. Mesh flow-thru crotch panels. Velcro-free fly. Contour fitted waistband, and reverse coil garaged zipper pocket’ (don’t ask why but I spent so much time looking at their trunks I memorized their description) this whole ugly and disgusting mess could have been avoided. But now that I’m set on their trunks, I’ve added the rest of their clothes too. If it’s good enough for Rodney Mullen, it’s good enough for everyone.
*This dialog is fictitious and more than likely never happened in real life.