Friday, July 1, 2011
I Hate the Beach
Tea Rat: Oh boy! There's going to be a beach party! I better brush up on my 1960s surfer lingo. Twitchin, dude.
Rattus: Why are you twitching dear fellow? Are you ill?
Tea Rat: Twitchin! You know, as in great, superb, cool, boss, wicked. Now come on, let's book for the beach.
Rattus: Beaches are public. Why do we need a reservation?
Tea Rat: No, not book as in reservation. Book as in to depart post haste. It's gonna be far out.
Rattus: Oh dear, I trust not too far.
Tea Rat: No dude, that's bogus. I mean far out, as in cool, twitchin. Now come on, and can you bring that cherry umbrella of mine?
Tea Rat: Yeah, you know, pristine, perfect.
Rattus: It is a nice umbrella, but it's mine.
Tea Rat: Woah, dude. Don't try to boggart my stuff.
Rattus: "Boggart your stuff? What in the world are you babbling about?
Tea Rat: I'm babbling? Dude, you don't even know what boggart means. What a burn. What a chop.
Rattus: I think I'm going to lie down.
Tea Rat: Don't get groady on me. Don't shine me on. Aren't we goin' to shag it to the beach?
Rattus: Going to the beach just sounds like too much work.
Tea Rat: But I was so stoked to dig up some scratch for some scarfs and split to shore. We were going to have a primo, righteous time.
Rattus: I hate the beach.