Two nights ago, my life’s ambition was reached.
INT. – MY PARENTS’ HOUSEHOLD, EVENING.
A FAMILY sits at at the FAMILY DINNER TABLE, enjoying a MEAL TOGETHER. DAVID (60, scrappy but a bit laid up due to a very recent hip replacement) sits diagonally from SHARON (59, perpetually distracted by any number of understandable factors), who sits across from REBECCA (in the final throes of 28, a bit losery, "visiting" protractedly, slightly mentally unstable). They eat GRILLED SALMON Sharon has cooked.
REBECCA
Well, I think I’ve managed to steal, rummage up or inherit just about every piece of furniture I could possibly need for my sweet graduate school apartment I will be moving into in two weeks and thusly not living with you guys anymore.
Sharon smiles accomodatingly. David stuffs his face with salmon.
REBECCA
Yep…pretty much all I need now is a dickfer.
David rolls his eyes.
SHARON
What?
Rebecca erupts into an eight-year-old-style giggle fit.
SHARON
What?
Rebecca covers her mouth.
SHARON
What did you say you needed?
David relents and comes to his inept daughter’s resuce.
DAVID
A ‘dickfer.’
SHARON
What’s a dickfer?
(Rimshot!)
…now I can die fulfilled.
Ha! I know I’m an innocent, but WTF is a dickfer? Motherfucker oil trader has not called since second date last wednesday–just got bak from miami on sunday, but STILL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HATE MEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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Ah, Stephanie. So charmingly naive. (About the dickfer, not the men.)
Here’s a hint: Read your comment out loud.
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wtf is up with oil trader mcgee, steph?!? that is bs!!! maybe he’s trying to play it cool so as not to feel like a dork.
the “dickfer” bit is to get someone to say something dirty by accident. i.e. “What’s a dickfer?” and then you answer, “For fucking, silly.” It’s a very old and VERY immature joke and the fact that you don’t know it is a testament to your classy upbringing and lack of base, shallow, 8-year-old style bathroom humor. Or, you know, “humour” if you’re being classy.
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