Monday, January 08, 2007



BIRD: Yes, dude?

BUFFALO: What I said about Clare…

BIRD: Yeah?

BUFFALO: I’m thinking let’s not be too hasty here, nectar is nectar.

BIRD: It’s your call, dude. May the Omen be with you.

BUFFALO: Let’s hope. How’s the patio hanging?

BIRD: Slowly. Pissering with rain here. If only I could have a holiday...

BUFFALO: You mean to Amsterdam, like we discussed?

BIRD: Amsterdam would be good. The canals, the tulips, the clogs…

BUFFALO: The coffee shops and strumpets.

BIRD: Van Gogh, Rembrandt, Hieronymus Bosch…

BUFFALO: Late night guzzling and biffing on Rembrandtsplein.

BIRD: Dude, what about the male bonding?

BUFFALO: Dude, I gotta cut loose here, the head doc says I’ve been sublimating too much lately. I need action not reaction. And Any Hooey, time is of the Renaissance.

BIRD: True.

BUFFALO: I was down by the water late last night, taking a dump, when I saw way over yonder a woman in white, shining brightly, walking on the water. D'ya think it’s a sign?

BIRD: Holy Jodhpurs! Tally ho, game on! Musta shook ya up, like.

BUFFALO: Made me think. I sat there, at the water’s edge, watching her glow, and I pondered the nature of sin as never before.

BIRD: Truly revelatory!

BUFFALO: And it came to pass that thus I bespoke in many tongues.

BIRD: Positively Babelic!

BUFFALO: And the brilliant white horrorspeak maiden beckoned me towards her torch-like beam, and I did anoint myself upon the waters of the lake.

BIRD: Effervescently prophetic!

BUFFALO: And therein I was seen to float downstream for many a reed as she drew me to her yearning cortex.

BIRD: Enticingly perpendicular!

BUFFALO: Whereupon I perceived an oracle of Babylon who proclaimed “Enter the gates of the nobles, o majestic Bufalus. You shall return to your land of the seven streams to rule over the oppressors. For it has come to pass through a scorching wind of Alabaster that Babylon shall fall silent once and for all. Exult, I say. Exult!”

BIRD: Oh, come on. You've gone too far now. Let's face it, you’re a bit barking, ain’t ya?

BUFFALO: Wait, there’s more.

BIRD: More?

BUFFALO: Well, a little. When I woke up, I was on a barge on my way to the Canadian border with a copy of Greg Sawyer’s The Return of the Gumrocks in my hand. I ask you, IS IT A SIGN?

BIRD: Greg Sawyer?

BUFFALO: I know. Dude, the book hasn’t even been WRITTEN yet. I checked.

BIRD: Fookin’ Nelly, maybe you should start a cult of some Finn.

BUFFALO: Well, dat’s wot I woz thinking, y’all.

BIRD: Gopher it.


BIRD: Film at eleven?

BUFFALO: Messiah at midnight! Arf, arf!


Clarissa said...


birdandbuffalo said...

A much underrated author ioho. Thanks for reminding us.