A Dialogue

Two freshpersons in Fauver discuss their winter break plans.

Dirk: Dude, are you going home, or what? I’m gonna stay here and it’d be cool if I could move our beds together and make a king.

Champagne: Yeah right. Your bed is like a salad bowl. Fuckin’ gross-ass hipstard.

Dirk: Oh yeah, right. Blame the hipsters. As USUAL! [Pushes his black, thick-rimmed glasses up his nose]. You know, it’s a good thing I’m not a hipster, or I’d consider beating your ass right now.

Champagne: With those straws for arms? And you ARE a hipster. Just admit it, you FUCKING hipster.

Dirk: What d’you mean?

Champagne: Your glasses. Your skinny torn jeans. Your flannel everything. Your Madmen style side-part, and the mustache. Come the fuck ON about that mustache.

Dirk: Whoa man. Don’t rag on the stache, bro. I can’t stress enough how much I will teabag you if you talk about my facial hair one more time. And would a hipster wear a huge chain with a dollar sign on it all the time?

Champagne: You’re disgusting.

Dirk: YOU’RE disgusting. This whole fucking country’s disgusting.

Champagne: I’m gonna pack a bowl.

Dirk: So, is it cool if I push our beds together?

Champagne: Pay me $100.

Dirk: Are you kidding? I don’t have that much money. I can barely pay for college and weed.

Champagne: You’re an upper-class white kid. Stop pretending your parents aren’t giving you money to spend.

Dirk: You are so presumptuous. And racist. It makes me sick. I’m just gonna push our beds together anyway once you leave.

Champagne: OK. And I’m gonna steal $100 from you.

Dirk: Yo, lemme get a hit?