Whut?
I was at the airport
in Houston waiting for my flight back to
Portland and I stopped at a pizza bar.
They have exactly one choice. It's called the "combo."
It's a coke and a slice of oleaginous goo masquerading as
pizza for the price of a coke and a slice of
pizza (minus one aggurah). I walked up to
the counter and said "COMBO." Now I know that I slur
my words. I have since I was a child,
but in the above circumstances, with
such a limited culinary repertoire, I fully expect
to be "understood" if I said "condo" or "congo"
or in fact anything except "What say I vault this
counter and become your love monkey?" What I got instead
was the all-purpose, everlasting, ubiquitous Houstonian: "Whut?"
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