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Where Art Thou? Quotes
Where Art Thou?
by
Sean Patrick Little45 ratings, 4.69 average rating, 14 reviews
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Where Art Thou? Quotes
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“Ladies and gentlemen!” A loud, brash male voice rose above the din in the bar; it was bellowing and unmistakable. “May I have your attention, please!”
Abe’s stomach tightened into a ball. After more than twenty years of listening to absurd nonsequiturs being bandied about during lulls in the office by the same voice, Abe knew who was speaking in an instant. His longtime business partner, CS Duffy, clad in his standard black Carhartt hooded sweatshirt and faded blue jeans, a Milwaukee Brewers cap on his head, was standing on a chair holding up his private investigator’s license folio as if it was some sort of officious piece of federal ID. “My name is Dr. Herbert Manfred Marx. I am with the CDC. We have an emergency situation.”
The bar quieted nearly to silence. Abe started to move toward his partner. He had no idea what Duff was planning to say or do, but he knew it wouldn’t be good.
Duff looked around the room, taking the time to make eye contact with the dozens of concerned speed daters. “The CDC has isolated a new form of sexually transmitted disease. We are calling it Mega-Herpes Complex IX. It is highly contagious and may result in your genitals exploding off your bodies in much the same way some lizards eject their own tails to confuse pursuing predators.”
There were a few gasps from some of the women in the room and a round of confused murmurs.
Duff continued unfazed. He unfurled a large, unflattering photocopy of an old photograph of Abe’s face. “We believe we have tracked Patient Zero to this location. If you see this man, for the love of God, do not sleep with him!”
Abe walked up to Duff, grabbed his sleeve, and yanked him off the chair.
Duff landed heavily. “Hey, Patient Zero! Good to see you.”
― Where Art Thou?
Abe’s stomach tightened into a ball. After more than twenty years of listening to absurd nonsequiturs being bandied about during lulls in the office by the same voice, Abe knew who was speaking in an instant. His longtime business partner, CS Duffy, clad in his standard black Carhartt hooded sweatshirt and faded blue jeans, a Milwaukee Brewers cap on his head, was standing on a chair holding up his private investigator’s license folio as if it was some sort of officious piece of federal ID. “My name is Dr. Herbert Manfred Marx. I am with the CDC. We have an emergency situation.”
The bar quieted nearly to silence. Abe started to move toward his partner. He had no idea what Duff was planning to say or do, but he knew it wouldn’t be good.
Duff looked around the room, taking the time to make eye contact with the dozens of concerned speed daters. “The CDC has isolated a new form of sexually transmitted disease. We are calling it Mega-Herpes Complex IX. It is highly contagious and may result in your genitals exploding off your bodies in much the same way some lizards eject their own tails to confuse pursuing predators.”
There were a few gasps from some of the women in the room and a round of confused murmurs.
Duff continued unfazed. He unfurled a large, unflattering photocopy of an old photograph of Abe’s face. “We believe we have tracked Patient Zero to this location. If you see this man, for the love of God, do not sleep with him!”
Abe walked up to Duff, grabbed his sleeve, and yanked him off the chair.
Duff landed heavily. “Hey, Patient Zero! Good to see you.”
― Where Art Thou?
“You’re a detective? Really?”
“That’s what it says on the waistband of my underwear. Abe, lay one of our cards on the man.”
Abe already had a business card in his hand. He set it in the middle of the desk, oriented so McMahon could read it without touching it. “I’m Abe. That’s Duff. Forgive him. He was raised in the woods by a family of sasquatch, and not the cultured kind of sasquatch, either.”
“I miss my hairy momma.” Duff kissed his fist and pointed at the ceiling. “Skookum Valley ain’t the same without you, Mom!”
― Where Art Thou?
“That’s what it says on the waistband of my underwear. Abe, lay one of our cards on the man.”
Abe already had a business card in his hand. He set it in the middle of the desk, oriented so McMahon could read it without touching it. “I’m Abe. That’s Duff. Forgive him. He was raised in the woods by a family of sasquatch, and not the cultured kind of sasquatch, either.”
“I miss my hairy momma.” Duff kissed his fist and pointed at the ceiling. “Skookum Valley ain’t the same without you, Mom!”
― Where Art Thou?
“Duff tapped the ex-Marine-or-SEAL on the shoulder. “Hey, do rich people have access to cleaning products the rest of us don’t?”
The guard said nothing.
“You don’t clean anyway,” said Abe.
“I might if I had magic rich people cleaning powder.”
“Why don’t you start with a bottle of Comet and work your way up?”
“Comet is for commoners. I’m more refined than that.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Let me dream, peasant.”
― Where Art Thou?
The guard said nothing.
“You don’t clean anyway,” said Abe.
“I might if I had magic rich people cleaning powder.”
“Why don’t you start with a bottle of Comet and work your way up?”
“Comet is for commoners. I’m more refined than that.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Let me dream, peasant.”
― Where Art Thou?
“Duff rolled his eyes so hard it caused a shift in the tectonic plates. “Golly, Chuck Woolery, the least you could do is buy the man a half-hour with a sympathetic hooker for an unenthusiastic hand job.”
― Where Art Thou?
― Where Art Thou?
