Friday, November 21, 2003

Q: Hey, man, I bet you can’t guess what’s in this wrap.
A: What?
Q: I’ve got a tasty wrap here from the deli/make-your-own-salad place up the block. I bet you can’t guess what’s in it.
A: Um. Yeah, I’m sorry, pal. I gotta go.
Q: Grilled chicken, with peppers and mushrooms and olives!

Q: Hey, buddy, I bet you can’t guess what’s in my wrap.
A: Grilled chicken, peppers, mushroom ’n’ olive.
Q: Fucking hell, man, that was right on the nose!
A: I heard you shout at that guy while he ran away.
Q: Oh, well, I bet you can’t guess what’s in my pocket.
A: The wrap is in your pocket. It’s hanging halfway out.
Q: Sic semper tyranus!
[Runs away flapping arms.]

Q: Hey, ma’am, I bet you can’t guess what’s in my wrap.
A: I have pepper spray on my keychain.
Q: Peppers and…?

Q: You sir. You look like a good-natured man.
A: I’m all right
Q: Wanna guess what’s in my wrap?
A: How about I push you down a flight of stairs?

Q: Hey, mamacita, que es en mi wrappo?
A: I’m not Latina, you asshole.
Q: Hey, mamma-san, uh, domo arigato.

Q: Hey, mister, I bet you can’t guess what I’ve got in this wrap.
A: What wrap?
Q: This wrap, right he—Oh, shit. Where—? I lost it. Damn it! That Spanish-speaking Chinese girl stole it. She told me she loved me…

Q: Excuse me, Miss, have you seen a Chinese girl eating a mushroom-and-chicken wrap—Ow! Ow! My eyes! Oh, it burns! Oh God!
A: I told you I had pepper spray.

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