Ceaser Chavez: davepoobond
(old folks home; 3 P.M., dinner just ending)
Prometheus: bahhhhh I’m ollld….
Ceaser Chavez: eh?
Prometheus: quiet, old fool!
Ceaser Chavez: awww….
Ceaser Chavez: wha?
Prometheus: i hate babies, don’t you?
Ceaser Chavez: one second, did I just poop mah pants again?
Prometheus: stupid babies, always crying, and whining, and poopin and peein, and always shitting ya crotch… man’s best friend my sweet wrinkled rump!
ole Gabe: that’s dogs ya twit
Ceaser Chavez: bah! it poop again!
Prometheus: how much money do you think babies make, selling their bears to tiny ducks named Fred?
Ceaser Chavez: more than we used to, back in the day, we had to make our own bears out of jello and coal! yea, and then those ducks only paid us enough money for half a bear, that took it anyway! good fer nuthin ducks, always taking my jello-coal bears! (cries softly)
Prometheus: i’m in the mood for robbin some babies
Ceaser Chavez: k
ole Gabe: blah
Prometheus: not just any babies, little ones! with rattles, bibs, diapers; the whole kit-n-kaboodle!
Ceaser Chavez: hurrah!
ole Gabe: hurrah!
(they run out, at old man speed, ole Gabe is about to get his stroller when a baby-gang busts a few caps in him, and explodes, cause he was old, and that’s how old people die… according to the voices…)