conversations with smoot by worm 4

In which I attend Fred Smoot's Super Bowl party. (February, 2006)

(Doorbell)

Smoot: Hey, Jay. How's it hangin?

Me: Fred, nice place you got here. That valet you hired looks just like Tice.

Smoot: Yeah... looks like.

Me: I brought some chips. Hope everyone likes Tostitos.

Smoot: Yeah, that's cool. You can just put them down on the table there.

Me: Wow Fred, I'm impressed. Homemade guacamole. It tastes a little different though.

Smoot: Hehehe... that ain't guac, man. You're gonna wanna be sittin down in about five minutes.

Me: You know, I think I'm gonna have a seat now.

Smoot: That's a good idea. You don't wanna get stuck sittin next to McKinne. He's got a gas problem. Hey, Bradshaw's on - that cracker busts me up. Turn up the volume, Jay. The remote is on the table in front of you.

Me: Ok, here we go. What the...?!? Where'd that stripper pole come from? Is that Luther Vandross music?

Smoot: Whoa, wrong button man. That's Smoot's Saturday night button.

Me: Come on, Fred. Don't tell me you flew in those hoochies from Atlanta. Haven't you figured out that's illegal?

Smoot: Naw, man. Smoot don't go down like that no mo'. I chartered a bus for those bitches.

Me: Fred... nevermind. Wait a minute, that lady isn't moving. She doesn't look too good.

Smoot: Yeah, I think you're right. Hey Kenechi! Your whore's dead!

Kenechi Udeze: Awww sweet! Kenechi out.

Smoot: That is one sick mofo right there.

Me: Ya know Fred, I think I'm gonna get going. You can keep the chips.

Smoot: You sure Jay? At halftime Pat Williams and Edinger are gonna recreate Janet flashing her tittie. Their costumes are da bomb.

Me: Ok, now I've really gotta go.

Smoot: Whatever. Smoot out.