Thing-fish: (checking off a clipboard, like a social worker)
Looks likes y'done putty good heahh, harry-as-a-boy! i sees ya' growin' up like a weed, axmodently reproducin' yoseff 'n evvythang. done found some low-rent housin' in a one-dimensional cardbode nativity box on some italian's funt lawn...bunch o' crab-grass underneath de offspring fo quick 'n easy sanitatium...shit! y'all provvly be savin' up fo yo first lava lamp putty soon!
Harry-as-a-boy:
We're incredibly happy! even though i'm gay for business purposes, my relationship with artificial rhonda has blossomed into something really beautiful, although i must confess to being baffled by how she got knocked up.
Thing-fish:
Well, if de trufe be told, it were de father o' de boy at de gas statium...when y'sent de ol' lady in fo' de inner-tube patchin', 'round de foth o' july.
Harry-as-a-boy:
Quentin? how could he be so unfaithful? i'm sure god has ways of punishing naughty little guys like that!
Thing-fish:
Mights well stop complainin', boy! de damage been done! leastways y'all can pretend to be some kinda daddy! yo' rubber bitch ain't gwine change no diapers! y'said y'all was incredibly happy! enjoy it while y'got it, boy! de shit gwine hit de fan in a minute!
Harry-as-a-boy:
What? something bad is going to happen?
Thing-fish:
You figgit out...judgin' fum de intellectional expressium on yo' beloved's ignint face, de bitch gwine be contemplatin' a career of her own! see dat?
Look like she got her one good eye on a briefcase 'n a tweed spo't coat down de mall somewheres!
Durin' de intromissium, few de sisters seen her 'tendin' a consciousness raisin' meetin' over at de hiltum! thass right! bitch passed up de mash potatoes 'n took off wit' de high school cafeteria butch.
Francesco opens the door, and stands on the porch, still watching through the binoculars.
Thing-fish: (contd.)
Makin' matters woise, de italian dat be ownin' yo' nativity bungalow been wondrin' 'bouts de hanky an' de panky 'tween you 'n dem two concrete flamingos ovuh by de steps! you been messin' wit de state bird o' new jersey, muthafucker! dat kin git you five to life in dis vicinity! if you wants a little frennly advice, boy, i'd be growin' my ass up a little quicker, 'n whizz on outa heahh!
Leave de ugly baby in de crab-grass, snatch up yo' wretched excuse fo a woman, 'n climb on up de heap! get yo'seff a job drivin' a truck fulla string-beans to utah! make sumfin' out y'seff, so's y'can afode a ticket to de mammy nun show! den we can piss all ovuh de adulterated wimp you gwine become, an' get de shit rollin' agin'!
