BIRD: Buffmeister, are you decent?
BUFFALO: More or less. I'm up, robed, oatmealed, and slurping tea.
BIRD: Prince of Wales?
BUFFALO: No, alas, regular old Lipton, supplied by my new neighbor, Minnie Castavet, just moved here from North or South Dakota - she was a bit vague about that - keeps saying "The Dakota".
BIRD: Crikey, Buff, you don't think she's referencing John Lennon's old digs?
BUFFALO: Damn, I thought that tea had a chalky under-taste. . .
BIRD: Er, does she have any children?
BUFFALO: Yes, a son. Right ugly little tyke. He has some sort of 'orrible skin condition, all scaly like. Also, sounds as if he's incredibly clumsy.
BIRD: Oh, how so?
BUFFALO: Well, Minnie's constantly complaining that he has hooves for hands.
BIRD: What's the little tyke's name, then?
BUFFALO: B. L. Selbubb. They call him "Bub" for short.
BIRD: What's the "B. L" stand for?
BUFFALO: Babylon Lucifer, I think.
BIRD: Blimey. Do you ever hear chanting through the walls late at night?
BUFFALO: How would I know? I'm constantly bombarded by the bass beat from Rap and Hip-Hop, pretty much 24/7.
BIRD: Do you socialize much with the Castavets?
BUFFALO: Well, I don't. . . their apartment reeks of sulfur and I'm allergic to it. Sparky's been spending a lot of time there, though. Apparently they're trying to set him up with some exotic babe named Lilith.
BIRD: Good Lord, Buff, isn't she a Succubus from the Seventh Level of Hell?
BUFFALO: No, I think that's Ann Coulter.
BIRD: But they're related, aren't they?
BUFFALO: Well, you're probably right about that. They're both cloven-hooved and have snakes for hair.
BIRD: Rug and carpet both?
BUFFALO: Copperheads on top, asps on the fertile delta of denial.
BIRD: Talk about anguish in herba, eh?
BUFFALO: Too true. Sparky has to wear fang mail when he goes courting.
BIRD: Have you considered moving?
BUFFALO: Oh yes, but they've just offered to renew the lease again, at last year's rate, which was a considerable reduction over the previous year's rent.
BIRD: How did you manage that?
BUFFALO: By constantly bitching and moaning about my fookwit neighbors, who leave trash on the stairwells, roast goats over open fires in their living rooms, and sacrifice their first born to the god Quetezcoatal, judging by the bloodcurdling screams on nights of the full moon.
BIRD: You're got to get out there, Buff, before Sparky knocks up that Succubus. There'll be Hell to pay then. So, how's the weather?
BUFFALO: It's the blustery day here. I expect to see Winnie the Pooh fly by any minute, with a honey pot and sticky buns.
BIRD: Windy, is it?
BUFFALO: Aye, a cold blast of Arctic air funneled down from Canada, using giant wind tunnels. Since NAFTA we've been raping and pillaging the Canuck's natural resources, so they're giving us the cold shoulder, so to speak. I think the wind chill factor today is around forty below - Fahrenheit, that is. Cold enough to freeze Ann Coulter's nips off.
BIRD: Why not stay indoors all snug and warm watching "Girls Gone Wild" on the telly?
BUFFALO: Gotta rescue my granddaughters from latch key at 1PM - otherwise they're stuck there until 4:00 at the mercy of the horrible Helgas and Gretchens who force them to weave macramé key chains or play basketball until they drop.
BIRD: Sounds a bit Medieval.
BUFFALO: Aye. A good deal for me, though. I get to scope all the MILFs who've come for their Kinder. There's usually a plethora of them, which is good for the old ego as I am usually mistaken for Sasha and Samantha's father - and those MILFs do love to flirt with the sensitive types who rescue their Kinder from latch key, especially hotshot Hollywood screenwriters.
BIRD: You darty auld Buff.
BUFFALO: Hey, whatever blows their skirts up.
BIRD: And what do your grandchildren say about this?
BUFFALO: Oh, they cull out the good ones for me. "Gramps, check out the brunette in the cashmere sweater. You could do Romeo and Juliet on that balcony."
BIRD: That's despicable, like!
BUFFALO: Not at all, they're well-compensated. I always take them to the Frigid Queen afterwards for banana splits and sundaes. Speaking of which, it's time to steam clean the melon and suit up for the ordeal. Have to don Arctic gear for this run.
BIRD: Watch out for the Succubi.
BUFFALO: Arf, arf.