Dude and Dude: Non Dudi Carborundum

Man, dude, I ain’t laughed so hard in weeks. This picture of a loser in a rowboat thumbin’ his nose at the waves. ‘Maybe his psychiatrist was right‘. Ha! Gnarly, as you’d say, dude. Um, dude? Dude?”


“What the hell are you doin’, dude?”

“Will you be careful what you’re breathin’ on, dude? You’re messin’ me up!

“And you gettin’ messed up is new how?

Look, dude, while some dudes are snortin’ over themselves lookin’ at pictures, I’m tryin’ to do somethin’ useful.”

By cuttin’ up little tiny pieces of sandpaper?!?

“That’s what they’re callin’ for, dude. They obviously want me to grind somethin’ down. Somethin’ really small. Dammed if I know what, but I figured I’d lay out the tools, and they’d tell me what to do on the day.”

“On the day?”

“Yeah, dude. Happens every Monday, I hear. Must be they got a lot of stuff to grind, so they have to make it a group project.”

“Who’s they?

“Well, this Stony River chick, to name one.”

“And what’re they callin’ this project of theirs?”

“Microfriction Monday.”

“[…] Dude?”


“You idiot! Not ‘microfRiction’. MicroFICTION! Tall tales short enough to fit in your iPhone so’s you can read ’em while drivin’. Nothin’ to do with sandpaper!

“I dunno ’bout that, dude.”


You’re a tall tale, and you can get pretty abrasive sometimes …”