Most ‘Suredly So, Sir! De Whole Ball o’ Wax!

I know I’m-a gonna regret askin dis, but whut da blue monkey heck’re we doin in Casablanca?

“Looking for a blue monkey.”

Dat’s not funny.

“Good, cause it’s not a joke. We’re after an ape with a heavy addiction to crystal meth and a nasty habit of going on shooting rampages when he goes into withdrawal.”

You always know howta fill a guy wit optimism. How’s dat make him blue, dough?

“Well, it doesn’t make him perky, spunky, or flamboyant.”

Point.

Don’t Ask Me Why The Camel Isn’t Anthropomorphic.

“Right, how much are you gonna try to bilk me for one of these handkerchiefs on toothpicks?”

Ah, I see you are interested in my fine wares! Truly honored sir is a very connesiuer of tentmaking!

“I certainly hope not.”

Might a lowly and wretched son of misery such as myself seek to know where illustrious sir is bound, that he requires one of these, the finest tents made these latter days since the ancients arts are lost in the shifting sands?

Max hauls on the lead rope apprehensively. Sly, dis walkin cigarette ad is gettin impatient, here.

“So am I. Look, Jaffar, just sell me a tent, ok?”

Ha! Honored sir would jest with me, a very dung beatle in the dust! But know that these tents are even as those carried by Grograman the Lion, in his pilgrimage though the haunted wastes! As those of the ancient nomad thieves to whom only one male is born every hundred years and whose females are of stunning beauty!

“You don’t have to do that stupid voice with me, I’m not a tourist.”

Oh.

“Well?”

Uh, yeah, that one’s twenty bucks, I guess.

I’m barely through paying when Max is shouting HAAAAAAALP! because the camel’s gone berserk and is dragging him through the market square.

I hate doing extradition work.

The Final Word.

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