Pons and Ned meet for dinner at a new Red Lobster restaurant.
Ned: Hey, Pons. Glad yer schedya had room fer a supper wit yer fav'right cousin.
Pons: Yeah yeah, Ned. This new Red Lobster is a needed addition to the sparse dinner spots around our town.
Ned: Sure nuff, Pons. I couldn't stomach anutter stack ah dem throw-cushion waffles at da Pancake Barn.
Pons: Don't think I've been there.
Ned: It's right dere next ta da All-Ya-Kin Stand beanery.
Pons: You've been to these places?
Ned: Haunt 'em like a ghost, Pons.
Pons: I thought you didn't like the food?
Ned: Once ya git a moutfulla grubs an' roaches down yer gullet, ya kin stand jist 'bout anythin'.
Pons: You went through survival training somewhere?
Ned: Naw, jist house cleanin'.
Excusing himself, Pons pushes by the greeter and heads for the restroom to vomit. The greeter, who has a name tag reading Gunter, addresses Ned.
Greeter: There will be two of you then?
Ned: Yup. My cousins prob'bly jist makin' room fer yer good-tastin' crawdads an' such.
Greeter: We don't serve crayfish here, sir.
Ned: Thunk you was a sea-da-food place?
Greeter: They may serve crayfish at the Got-Yer-Chum fish fry down on Fifth Street.
Ned: No kiddin'? I ain't never aheard ah dat place.
Greeter: I AM kidding, sir. I was merely being funny -- and slightly condescending.
Ned: Well, yeah. Ya wouldn't want folks scramblin' outta here ta yer competition.
Pons returns from the restroom and joins the conversation.
Pons: So, where are we sitting?
Ned: Gunt ain't said yet.
Greeter: That's Gunter, sir.
Pons: Great, Gunter. Where are we sitting?
Ned: Ain't nobody never called ya Gunt?
Greeter: No one. Wait. Yes. I had an uncle begin calling my name from the middle of a busy thoroughfare. He was run over by a passing school bus before completing the full pronunciation.
Pons: Did I miss something here?
Ned: Gunt were jist condescendin' how he ain't never been called dat exceptin' by me and his dead uncle. What was yer uncle's name, Gunt?
Greeter: Asshole!
Ned smiled with the thought that the greeter's uncle had such a funny name.
Pons: Maybe we should go somewhere else?
Ned: Gunt was jist sayin' dere's a place servin' crawdads down on Fifth Street.
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Author Notes
Image from redlobster.com
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