At A Subway In St. Cloud
I thought about writing a big long post about the miserable weekend we had in St. Cloud, but I opted to instead recreate a snippet of dialogue generated by one of the funniest people I know: My two-and-a-half-year-old son, Travis.
EXT. – SUBWAY DRIVE-THRU – DAY
The rain is coming down in St. Cloud like there’s an ark parked somewhere nearby. A red Nissan Xterra donning firefighter license plates pulls up to the speakerbox at a SUBWAY SANDWICH franchise. Behind the wheel is THOMAS. As he pulls up, there is a long pause followed by a loud, scratchy noise. After another moment, there is another scratchy noise and a sound much like a razzberry. A toddler in a car seat, TRAVIS, hears this and speaks up.
TRAVIS: Did you hear that?
THOMAS: That was the speaker thing, buddy.
TRAVIS: It was gas!
THOMAS: No, it…
TRAVIS: I heard it. It was farts!
THOMAS: I don’t think it…
TRAVIS: That’s dirty!
I know, I know. It’s the true sign of a hacky comic when he/she resorts to ‘fart’ jokes, but it hit me at a time when we were ready to steer the truck into oncoming traffic. His insistence that there wasn’t something wrong with the drive-thru speaker and that someone was using the technology for low-brow means just cracked me up.