A dialogue about dames

Robert Robus: Tartar, it has been at least a month since last I wooed a dame.

Tartar: Ha!--I get girls daily. What's wrong with you, Robert? Are you a loser?

Robert Robus: No, Tartar. . .it's just that I find myself rather reluctant around dames, and cannot determine, for any situation in which I am mired, the correct phrases to intone.

Tartar: Here's what you do. You say, 'Has anybody ever told you how beautiful you are?' You smile, they smile back, you take their hand, and then you whisk them off to your hotel room.

Robert Robus: And what species of activities, may I ask, might tend to transpire in said hotel room?

Tartar: We'd drink V8 and eat lettuce, you tool.

Robert Robus: Tartar, my dear friend, I'm beginning to suspect that you are employing this term 'tool' in a less than proprietary manner.

Tartar: You're imagining things, chum. I flout you almost constantly.

Robert Robus: Good. For a second there, it occurred to me to suspect that you, good friend Tartar, might possibly be mocking me. At any rate: the last time I undertook to court a dame, I ended up in a nearby lake with bricks tied to my loafers.

Tartar: Next time, I suggest going to someplace other than a motorcycle convention to talk to women.

Robert Robus: I swear, Tartar: I was on my way to an upscale restaurant in a nearby gargantuan cosmopolis, but I got caught in a traffic jam, and there they were.

Tartar: Oh, and you should lose the fedora.

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[NOTE FROM BLOG ADMINISTRATOR]
To any and all worried readers: be assured that Robert Robus will never, in fact, ditch his trusty fedora.