...but I don't think I showed it to anybody. If you care about municipal politics and senseless verbal abuse, this is for you.
Two friends are at a restaurant discussing the Toronto mayor race.
(one of the friends has borderline personality disorder.)
John: Can you pass me the pepper?
Marilyn: No. Get it yourself. I don’t give you no pepper.
John: Why not?
M: Because your breath stinks.
J: Well, your chest is too small.
M: Fuck you.
J: Well I just want some pepper for my sandwich
M: I don’t have to listen to this crap.
J: You can always cut your ears off
M: If you're going to be like this, I'm going away...
J: Then go, Van Gogh.
M: Hmph, trust me to sit at a table with a total smellenk.
J: What did you call me?
M: I wish I had called you an assless dickbutt, but I didn’t; I just called you a smellenk
J: And that is…?
M: A lake fish, one that swims with only the ventral fins
J: Ventral fins? Lake fish? Since when did you get into marine biology?
M: Since last weekend, and the TLC special on Great Lakes ecology, ass master! Duh!
J: Huh? Ass master?
M: That’s right, butt lord! Try learning a little science, Lonny Luddite!
J: Lonny… who? What the heck--why the belligerence?
M: Why the shmelligerence??
J: You are on medication, right, because right now you don’t make too much sense
M: At least I don’t make big black poos like you do!
J: What?
M: I snuck into the washroom last night, before you had a chance to flush. I took it in with my own eyes, and it was not a pretty sight, Señor Logjam! Maybe eat a few less corn chips, huh
J: You are a psychotic monster
M: At least I know how to accessorize my lipstick with my shoes, zitface! And at least I don’t leave no Chernobyl disasters in the goddamned toilet!
J: There’s no call for potty talk. And why are you talking about my shoes?
M: What else is there to talk about, huh? The provincial government?
J: No I’d much rather discuss municipal politics. But not with a jibbering loony…
M: Who’s a loony? You’re a big baboony
J: You're acting like an infant. Who are you voting for mayor?
M: Probably someone with integrity, and who isn’t a loser. So I guess that wouldn’t be you.
J: I for one am tiring of your attitude
M: I for one am tiring of your whining stuttering squawking.
J: Anyway--let’s see, mayor: Miller doesn’t want the island airport expansion, but that could just be a leftist pipe dream. I hear it’s a done deal, and—
M: Yeah, a done deal, just like your stupidity
J: And then there’s Tory, this dude’s a corporate baloney—
M: You know what’s baloney? Everything you say! Know what else? My shoulder is sore, would you mind rubbing it with some of your oily hair grease?
J: Huh?
M: You know, Johnny Gino, cuz you’re such a greasy Gino, your stupid hair must be oozing that oily stuff like pus from a gonorrhoea patient.
J: Hold up—while we’re bringing up stale hags festering with VD, let’s talk about you, Ms. genital warts queen of the world!
M: Yeah, nice comeback. And now I am going to take these toothpicks and rip your vocal chords into bacon strips—
J: Try it and you’ll be eating your meals through a straw
M: Silence your moronic brain, noodle-head; we were discussing the mayorship
J: Right. I am convinced Nunziata is the man for the job…
M: Yeah, maybe if the job was called 'Worst candidate ever!' Any other predictions, Johnny the Greek? Maybe the Zulus will win the Boer War?
J: What? That happened over 100 years ago!
M: Yeah, 100 years ago-- right around the last time you said something intelligent
J: Your psychosis really troubles me, you know. I recommend you shove your afflicted head into a blender and press 'on.'
M: I recommend you learn how to debate politics like a man, not cry like a pansy every time I point out your lameness, Lonny Lame-o
J: Who is this Lonny you’re always talking about?
M: Someone just like you: a pimple-necked, gruesome hunchback—only he’s much better looking than your lame-ass face of turd droppings.
J: What? First, you are the ugliest person in this city. At least I am not a toothless witch with split ends and a lazy eye. And 'turd droppings?' It’s enough to just say ‘turd’--that is a redundant insult
M: Maybe redundant like me talking to you, when I would be better off talking to my own mucus
J: That’s it, I am sick of this abuse. I’m gone. (leaves)
M: Wait! What about Tom Jakobek! I think he’s got a chance!
FIN
(epilogue: Hostilities aside, Marilyn was quite optimistic with her final comment—Tom Jakobek received just 1.2 per cent of voter support in Toronto's November 10, 2003 mayor election. The other candidates were David Miller, John Tory, John Nunziata, Barbara Hall, and Tom Jakobek. David Miller won with 44 per cent of the vote)
ps to anyone reading in Germany or Italy--I miss you!
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