Dude, where’s “Dude where’s my car”?

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Hey man, what’s up? Look, I know everyone was over at my place last night, so it could have been anyone but… you see, things got a little out of hand. Someone smashed the TV with a baseball bat, another person clogged my sink with a shirt like the Wet Bandits in Home Alone; but worst of all was that I think someone took my DVD copy of Dude, Where’s My Car.

Yes, THAT Dude, Where’s My Car. The cult classic Kutcher/Scott double-team comedy extravaganza. Director Danny Leiner at the top of his game, complimented by ace cinematography by none other than THE Robert M. Stevens. I was absolutely DEVASTATED upon learning that it was taken. Do you know how hard it is to find a DVD nowadays?

Would you mind accompanying me on a journey to various places around town that the DVD might pop up? We may find some interesting characters and/or racial stereotypes. This is in no way related to the plot of DWMC.

Thanks man. Now, there’s a lot of potential options as to who could have took the DVD. We should really sort out what the motive would be to do this. It could just be that they were drunk and, like most drunk people, thought that stealing is hilarious. I could see it – to the common, average man, a copy of DWMC could appear to be an unnecessary a household item there could be. But of course, DWMC is, to me, a far more treasured possession.

Cue flashback:

I am Eight years old. It is spring. The trees are beginning to blossom and the only snow that remains is tucked away into the darkest shadows. The world is awaking from its long winter slumber. I see my father. He towers over me, a giant of memory. In his weathered blue-collar hands is a football.

“Hey son,” he asks me, “wanna go outside and toss the ol’ pigskin around?” Now this was before I did that stint in a Brazilian jail, so ‘toss the pigskin’ meant only one thing – having a catch with my dad.  As we stand outside in the cool april breeze, we throw it back and forth. After a few minutes, the words reach my lips: “is Mom ever coming back?” he simply stares back.

Back to the present:

Whoa, what the fuck was that all about? None of that stuff ever happened to me, why am I getting it as a flashback?! Man, I really need to find Dude, Where’s My Car quickly. Maybe let’s go to Gary’s place, he’s always swiping shit. Gary was my roommate in first year and over the course of the year managed to take my cereal, my toothbrush, my alcohol and my girlfriend.

Oh hey Gary, how’s it going?… Ya, ya I know, it was pretty sweet… hey, weird question, did you take my copy of Dude, Where’s My Car?…whoa, what the fuck man? What do you mean you had a burning desire to take it out of nostalgia?…oh my god…no, it can’t be! Our brains got swapped last night! Now I know why there is a ring of blood coming from an incorrectly-sewn skull incision: why did I invite that brain surgeon to my party?! I could have found an Molly dealer who won’t swap my brain with my ex-roommate’s and give me all his childhood memories.

So ya, sorry about that Gary. You might as well keep Dude Where’s My Car, and while you’re at it, I think you should call your Dad.

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