Person 1 – You’re so lame. You probably think Paul Auster’s a really good writer.
Person 2 – Oh yeah? You don’t even know who he is. Shittalker.
1 – Yeah I do.
2 – Prove it.
1 – I don’t have to.
2 – Cos you can’t?
1 – No way, I know who he is. And I know what he’s done.
2 – What?
1 – What are you deaf? I said I know what he’s done.
2 – I know what you said, dicknose. But what’s he done?
1 – I thought you liked him?
2 – I do.
1 – Then you of all people should know what he’s done.
2 – What the frack are you talking about?
1 – It was on his blog. You’d think if you liked him you’d read his blog.
2 – What? What was on his blog?
1 – And his twitter feed.
2 – He’s got a twi-? I’m warning you, tell me what you’re talking about right now, or I’ll…
1 – I’m talking about Paul Auster.
2 – What about him.
1 – What he did. That time.
2 – Goddamn it!
1 – Calm down, bro’. Take a chill pill or summin’.
2 – Now look, you butt-lappin’, culture-phobic moron, if you don’t a) tell me what it is you think my homie Paul Auster’s gone and done, or b) shut your filthy clam right now, I’m gonna zombie your body with hyper-poison, tie you to this chair, wheel you down the road to my book group, then let fifteen awesome dudes loose on you with highly opinionated ideas about the total mega-multiculturalism of Zadie Smith, the super-sweet high-fiveness of Dave Eggers, the never ending wow-a-thon that is Nick Hornby, and the post-modern retro-nowness genius that is Brett Easton Ellis, until you shit in your pants.
1 – NO! You go too far!
2 – Now tell me – What has Paul Auster done?
1 – I can’t! I don’t remember! You gave me too much!
2 – C’mon. Spill those literary beans. Spill them!
1 – You busted my brain you, you, you…
2 – D’ya want me to read you some poetry from Mcsweeney’s? issue 22?
1 – Gah!
2 – Well? Do ya?
1 – I can’t breath. You’re killing me…
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