Now, when I think about people who don't speak English, they usually fall into two categories: "people who speak some language other than English," and "dumb-ass fuckhats who screw with English so badly you just want to strangle them every time they open their half-retarded, stump fucking mouths, godammit." I won't be discussing the former. Could you tell?
As a side note, by now you should know where I work*, so ask me and I'll shoot you in the face and chest and face and neck and face.
The ever-growing popularity of games and the stuff that plays them means that the majority of total idiots and shit-for-brain fuckwads that inhabit this country will come to my store. They like NASCAR THUNDER, and, as they put it- "lots of killin' an' blowin' up shit." This means we get more than our fair share of word-fuckers over in your friendly neighborhood EB games. One sticks in my head more so than anyone else, though, someone who speaks so poorly, he's almost incomprehensible. The mere mention of his name causes shudders among or staff. We call him "Dunkin Donuts Kid." This is his story.
We call this poor child Dunkin Donuts Kid because, well, his mother works at Dunkin Donuts. That, and he's so hyperactive from the sugar frosted's his mom shoves down his throat that he's lost the ability to pronounce his consonants. Where he is on a constant sugar high, his mom, however, is on the opposite end of the spectrum (a "sugar low," if you will), and drains out every syllable with a nasality that shreds your soul into pieces, and shits on the remains.
DDK:"Eh! Ahh! Uh ah eeh! Uh'uh ah eh ahhh uh?"
ME:"Um...what was that? "
MOM:"uhhhh...he saiiiid...um...i...dooooooooon't knoooooooooow. Whhhaaaaaaaaaat did you waaaaant sweeeeeetieeee?"
DDK:"De...uh eh uh i...uh...um...de huh!"
It's disturbing, and painful to listen to. I can only imagine the poor household (and neighborhood, and region of the city) that contains these people. In their attic must be some dread portal to whatever nether realm spawned them in the first place.
I really can't blame him, he's a product of his mom. She really just wants to make people happy, and her twisted, chicken brain contorts that into "put on shit-tons of makeup (she looks like Mimi Bobeck's little sister/homunculus demon), sell donuts, and pour 100% pure, unadulterated sucrose straight into her son's blood stream." He likes stuff that blows up too.
Either that, or "squee ah uh umm deh huh?"
I can't really tell.
*For the not-knowers out there, the author of this rant works at Electronics Boutique. So don't ask him. - M