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The way I Assume my Parents Spoke as Youths

“Hello there chick, I was hangin’ over yonder and my eyes pinned you. You seem to be a funky fox hanging loose over by this Model-T. I would enjoy the company of you going steady with me. You are the bees’ knees, real primo!”

“Why thank you, daddio. I too feel that. You are so tuff. I have witnessed you drag race before. Those are also some wicked threads that you are sporting.”

“I reciprocate the compliment. It was quite solid. Would you enjoy cruising to the boss-est Soda Shoppe in our village? Everything here is so square except for Soda Shoppes. I hate President Johnson for being so skuzz.”

“Indeed, I would garner much enjoyment from flipping President Johnson the bird. As for the Soda Shoppe, I will accompany you as long as you purchase for me exactly one phosphate. This sure sounds bitchin!”

“Right on, gnarly. The Old Man said I could have his whip until the night has reached mid, so let us lay some scratch. We will be hauling some serious ass, so watch your poodle skirt and saddle shoes.”

“I love this 8 track player in your four-banger. It is eclipsed only by the vinyl player on your dashboard. Shall I load up some of our favorite 45’s, such as Mr. Elvis Presley and the song ‘At the Hop’, which plays at all of the sock hops that we have?”

“Please do. Us Baby Boomers sure are rebelling with our rock and roll music. Oh no, a gang of greasers is blocking our path. Why, oh why, were they not drafted into the Vietnam War”?

“Hurrah! The fuzz, those pigs, have arrived to take them to the war. Praise be to President Johnson and his eternal war machine!”

“You’re so hip, baby. I’m so jazzed now. Let us make out. I’m going to pin you right here in my souped up car.”

“Neato!”

END