Procrastinet

Maxblog 2025

filed under: Procrastinet Guests

John DeVore offers us a glimpse of the probable future:

Max: How old were you when you met Dad?

Uncle Mister DeVore: About your age.

Max: What was Dad like?

Uncle Mister DeVore: He had a goatee.

Max: He still has a goatee.

Uncle Mister DeVore: Stick to a style, kiddo. You'll be fashionable at least 50% of the time over the course of two decades.

Max: Do you smell that?

Uncle Mister DeVore: That's me.

Max: What's that smell?

Uncle Mister DeVore: Bourbon?

Max: No.

Uncle Mister DeVore: Hash?

Max: No.

Uncle Mister DeVore: The mummified corpses of hopes and dreams stuffed into the trunk of a 50 year old man's soul?

Max: Yeah. Smells like socks.

Uncle Mister DeVore: We're born astride the grave, buckaroo.

Max: Uncle Mister DeVore?

Uncle Mister DeVore: Yes, Max.

Max: What's in this brown paper bag?

Uncle Mister DeVore: Secrets, Max. Act cool. You can act cool. Do it.

Max: You're drooling.

Uncle Mister DeVore: Look-keep the engine running. I'll be back. Then I'll teach you a valuable life lesson.

Max: What's that?

Uncle Mister DeVore: No stripper in the history of ever is studying comparative literature at Columbia University. So there's no need to tip her anymore than you have to. And you're never too good to not order well drinks. No matter how much money you make, shelf booze is as good as it needs to be, and there's more of it. Economically speaking. Now give me the bag, and when I shout "Yahtzee," gun the fucking car.

Max: You make me sad.

Posted by rjt at March 7, 2005 07:56 PM