Correctosaurus

“That’s all you ever do: make jokes.”

“What else would I do in an environment like this? I mean—”

“Ah! Ah ha! There it is. ‘I mean.’ ‘I mean.’ I hate that! And don’t look at me that way. It is so annoying.”

“It’s just the way people talk, man.”

“No, it’s the way dumb people talk. People… who don’t think about what they’re say-ing.”

“I mean—“

“‘I mean’.”

“Dude, cut it out.”

“There. At least ‘dude’ is a difference.”

“Look, I’ve been reading up on this ever since you started pointing it out months ago… and you are such a hypocrite!”

“What? What’re you talkin’ about?”

“I said ‘look’ at the beginning of my sentence. That was an introductory statement. It’s just like when someone says ‘so’.”

“Ooooh my God! I hate that almost as much. ‘I ate before I came, so…’. ‘So, I saw this Greek restaurant that is to die for’!”

“What’s it called? Ha, there’s that look!”

“That’s not funny. None of this is. People are so stupid and they’re only getting stupider.”

“I mean—”

“Bry, it’s like you’re literally doing it on purpose now! And you’re smiling about it? I am visibly distraught over the downfall of Western intelligence, and you just mock me.”

“I mock with love, dude. I mock with love.”

“What a crock of shit. ‘I mean’ doesn’t even mean anything! People might as well be saying ‘twinkle’ or ‘sea bass’ as a preamble to everything they’re saying.”

“Are you for real?”

“You know I am. Dude.”

“That’s didn’t feel sincere.”

“It wasn’t supposed to. This freakin’ airport has me on edge more than usual. It’s cool they’re feedin’ us with these vouchers and shit, but I am ready to get outta here.”

“How would you spell that?”

“Huh? What?”

“Your face… but, seriously, how would you spell ‘outta’. Or would you spell it out like it is? ‘Out of’. As in, ‘I am ready to get out of here’.”

“Dude—“

“Sea bass.”

“Shut up! What’re you doin’?”

“Just trying to hold you to your own standards, man.”

“Stop that. Stop smiling.”

“I mean…”

“Oh, you son of a…!”

“Sir. Please keep your voice down.”

“Whoa! Where’d you come from?”

“Sir, there’s kids here. And we’re all in the same boat here. It’s been the same thirty-six hours for all of us. The snow stopped but we still can’t do anything just yet. Remaining calm is the best possible course of action.”

“Yeah… yeah, okay.”

“I mean, if a twelve year old can live without a phone for this long, I would guess a full-grown man such as yourself can, too. So…”

“…’Kay. Thanks. I’ll… keep that in mind. Ma’am.”

“Wow. You handled that good. Well. You handled that well. What? I caught myself.”

“I have to handle myself well for her. She might not let me on the next plane.”

“Or she might put us on the wrong one.”

“This trip has been a disaster.”

“How so, Cray?”

“We’re supposed to be bacheloring it up in St. Croix, but we’re stuck here and can’t even do anything about it. I was supposed to be able to… I don’t know.”

“Lighten up?”

“You say that like it’s a joke, but that’s the truth. I need to lighten up.”

“And cut back on your italics.”

“Bry, I’m serious. I know I’m that guy.”

“What guy?”

“The grammar guy. The annoying Correctosaurus. The guy who’s thing is correcting everyone else’s little nothings.”

“What, and you thought this trip would be the start of some kind of change?”

“Maybe, yeah. I don’t know. The look on people’s faces when I just spout off that ‘anyways’ isn’t a word. Or when ‘I mean’ just gets to me.”

“Or when a stewardess say ‘there’s kids’ instead of ‘there are kids’ when talking to you like you’re a kid?”

“I know, right? What a c—”

“Cray, you have nothing to worry about.”

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t really think you needed a trip to the tropics to cure something that’s incurable, did you?”

“Incurable? What…”

“Craig, you are you. Correctosaurus and all. That’s not something you should wish away. And screw anyone who says otherwise.”

“You say otherwise.”

“Easy, bud. I mean, those italics…”

“You’re always saying—”

“Look, I know what I’m sayin’. And it’s really because I’m embarrassed, I guess. That… that I’m not in control. Like you are.”

“What d’ya mean? I’m not in control. I had no clue this storm would strand us here.”

“No, not that kind of control. Like, you’re in control. You always know… exactly… what you want to say.”

“N-not always. No.”

“Dude, you do. I see it. Your pauses. Your eyes when you talk. Your jaw clenching and unclenching when you want to start off with something easy like—”

“Twinkle?”

“Ha! Yeah, like that. Or something the rest of us idiots use.”

“You’re not an idiot. I’m the idiot.”

“I’m not disagreeing. Hey, come on. You know I’m kiddin’. I think you’re extremely bright and put together. Like you know what you want in life.”

“I don’t know anymore’n you.”

“Well, you seem like you do at least. And that’s enough for me. Enough to make me… wanna be more like you.”

“Bry, you’re gonna make me… blush or something.”

“Nothin’ wrong with two best buds, hangin’ out in an airport, getting’ real and junk. Word?”

“Okay, it’s hard to be friends with you after a statement like that. We might need separate flights home.”

“I mean—”

“Sea bass—”

“—this feels like a hug moment, man! Bring it in!”

“Urg.”

“So, you really thought you’d get off the plane after a great Caribbean vacation and just start not correcting people?”

“Actually, I did. I thought the Correctosaurus would go the way of the other dinosaurs. And now that I’m saying it out loud, it sounds really stupid.”

“But, you’re still my personal hero. So…”



Word Count: 985