Slate: Remember that song I wrote about how the back of your butt always sticks to the seat in cars when it's all sticky and hot?
Me: The one that you were talking about writing when I was like half asleep in the shade a while back and you were bugging me and shit?
Slate: You remember that?
Me: Kinda. Only because Fizz told me about it after that when I was over at his house and you were outta town a couple weeks ago.
Slate: Oh yeah, for the Jam-In at Aldridge Bay. Anyway, This seat company wants to use it, but I said no.
Me: But dude, that was totes a golden opportunity for you to branch out and get your name out there, what the fuck were you thinking? Gran will be so upset. You might even get sent to your room.
Slate: OH NOOOOO not my rooom, what will I do there? *starts laughing*
Me: hueheueheueheuehue. But for the srs, I can just hear her now. "Standing River Slate, you get your insolent, unappreciative butt to your room right this instant and think about what you've done! You need to learn to not think of yourself! You're nothing but a selfish child after all these years!"
Slate: Oh shit, what was I thinking, how could I let this ship sail? People's butts are in jeopardy and I let this happen oh god oh god oh god
Me: *Sees Fizz coming up to meet them in his car* Oh, people's butts are in jeopardy, all right.
Fizz: The fuck are you idiots blathering on about.
Slate: No hope now.