RICHH & PAUL AT THE DELI

Deli Observations

I

Paul and I are in the deli Sunday morning. Looking for bagels, lox,
what-have-you.

Old lady glistens, bedecked in rhinestones and pussy willows. She says,
"Boys, boys, I don't see too well the days. Tell me, that piece of salmon
there, is it moist?"

"Um, lady, that ain't salmon, you're pointing at my millstone."

II

Deli guy: You want *what*?

Paul: The vercks.

Rich: And none of that lambaste!

Paul: French dip?

Rich: Bad hair day.

Deli guy: Cheese?

Paul: If you grow it, I'll smote it.

Rich: I one a sandbox!

Deli guy: I two an sandbox!

Paul: I changed the catbox.

Old salmon lady lady: I farted!

Deli guy: Try the kasha.

Rich: Trial!

Paul: Kafka!

Osll: I hate you boys.

Paul: Lady lady, we ain't boys, we're dancers!

a RICHH/Paul joint