conversations 2: the dilettante

hey man... how high is that teardrop, muthafucka?

i've decided to continue the conversations component of this blog... this little gem is taken from an actual conversation between the dilettante and myself on an online messenging program. it has been edited for clarity.

the dilettante says:
do you want to deal drugs with me in toronto this summer?
evil says:
eh? what type of drugs?
the dilettante says:
all kinds. but mainly smack and crank.
evil says:
smack and crank, eh?
the dilettante says:
unless they're the same thing, in which case we'll only deal smack because it sounds better.
evil says:
dude, dodgy people do smack and crank... i'm not into dodgy people.
the dilettante says:
fine, we'll deal designer drugs. ketamine. ecstacy. whatever. we'll open a pizza parlour and include them in "special" orders.
evil says:
that's better.
the dilettante says:
and hot suzy can be our drug mule. we'll pack the stuff inside her snatch if necessary. snatch jatch.
evil says:
we'll put ecstacy tablets up hot suzy's snatch? are you sure she'll agree?
the dilettante says:
you can convince her. tell her it's part of the revolution, and she has no choice.
evil says:
this will finance the revolution?
the dilettante says:
damn. maybe we should kill some (baby)boomers then and take their jobs?
evil says:
just went to a job fair... there were like 500+ kids in the queue. i left in despair. but killing babyboomers is always a good thing.
the dilettante says:
job fairs suck. and your election may not happen now, i'm afraid.
evil says:
no shit. my ass is already back to the p-dot e-dot.
the dil says:
call brown bottom, see if he can't get you a hook up with (random minister). if nothing else, you get to hang out in montreal for the summer.
evil says:
i should call brown bottom? and organize against belinda???
the dil says:
yes
the dil says:
DO IT
evil says:
i'd never betray her like that.
the dil says:
come on. she's a tart.
evil says:
check latest blog entry.
the dil says:
not organize, just sit around with your finger up your bum and pretend to organize. and be in montreal.
evil says:
does he have an email? do I have to TALK to him???
the dil says:
yeah, maybe not. that would be unpleasant.
evil says:
so now I shouldn't do it?
the dil says:
i dunno. if you wanna, do it, dial 666.666.6666 (not the real number)
evil says:
email. not into talking to him. written correspondence only.
the dil says:
it might be work, after all. me@brownbottom.com (surprised?)
evil says:
shut up! that's a joke, right?
the dil says:
nope
evil says:
ughn. fags. and what is brown bottom doing for random cabinet minister these days?
the dil says:
blowing him, i suppose.
evil says:
that's hot.
the dil says:
gross
evil says:
are you serious? should i actually email brown bottom grovelling for a job? it didn't work for you.

evil says:

wouldn't it be better to wait tables in p-dot e-dot for three months?
the dil says:
well, true. TRUE. but answer that last question for yourself, my friend.
evil says:
so i should email him and see what's up then?
the dil says:
yeah, why not? just blow smoke up his ass, tell him how great he is, etc. etc. and then talk up the cabinet minister thing.
evil says:
how great brown bottom is? but that'd be called lying.
the dil says:
no shit, but he doesn't know that.
evil says:
ah! okay, i'll do it. Why not?
the dil says:
exactly.
evil says:
cool. i'll do it right now, and send you brown bottom’s reply...
the dil says:
ok
evil says:

speak soon.

the email to brown bottom was written but never sent. better judgement prevailed...