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A Glahsry of Toims:

Shauwah = Wayuh da wawtah comes outta.

Tiyahd = That means you awtah be snorin.’

Awfiss = Wayuh yous guys woik. 

Jahbs = As in woik, or as in Steve Jahbs.

Fedorah = Yaw hat.

Deezoit = What you get sent to yaw room widdout.

Lepidoptera = A Mawth.

Cullahs = Like ahrunge and poiple.

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Our extinguished Awthuh left out soitin’ coise woids for this awdience, so the stawry is half as shawt as it would nawmally be.

So, here we go….

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Hi kids, my name is Ahthuh Moidock an’ I was bawn in freakin’ (Oops! I beddah not tawk doity to a bunch of rug rats…). Like I was sayin,’ I was bawn in New Yawk.

Which makes me a ‘what?’

A New Yawkah, of cawse! I don’t live in Joisey awe da lowsy suboibs.’ Me? 

I live in a skyscrapuh dat neahly reaches da stahs. 

Dem stahs is wayuh? 

Waaaay up in da univoise, ya liddle meatbawls!

One mawning, I had to get outtah bed, shauwah, and shave faw woik . I toined to my spouse, Nawmuh, an’ with mawning halitosis I whispid, “I’m goin’ to woik.” Nawmuh was still undah the cuvahs snawin’ an I was still tiyahd. I wuz yawnin like duh Gran Canyon. My mowt tasted like oith woims.

Den I god up, opened my undahpants draw an Oh my gahd, I saw dat awluh my shawts was devowwid! Dare wuz holes in dem everyweah. Dey looked like Swiss cheese! Den I opened the anuthah dressah draw to soich faw a fresh shoit. Awl my shoits was as holy as duh Pope!

Awl duh lawndry was poifahrated!

What kind of lousy bum eats shoits an’ shawts?

Dare must be a doity mawth hangin’ aroun’ owuh apahtment. I was soitin’.

Some stinkin’ mawth had swallahed my Fruit-of-da-Looms. an’ I needed to get to duh awfiss.

My awfiss is wheah?

In a tawl tawl towah, on toidy-toid-an-toid. 

I needed to cawl an extoiminatah, but foist I had to cawl my bawss Oyving, an tell him dat I was gonna be tahdy. “I need to go to the staw Oyving, an’ get maw clohdin,” I said wit a few cherce woids.

Den I looked up an’ guess what I saw? A giant mawth flyin’ aroun’ duh kitchen light. “Get outta my way, ya bum,” he says, zippin’ by, duh size of a seven-fawty-seven. 

Holy simoleons! He tawked. (A simoleon is a dollah.)

I ducked. “Hey watch it! There’s a poysin heah. What do I look like? Chopped livuh?

“Move it, bub,” he says. “I’m flyin’ heah.” 

“Eat dis ya bug” I said, as I trew an umbrellah at his ugly mug. 

“No tanks,” he says. “I don’t eat no freak…uh…sorry…I don’t eat polyestah.”
“Chew on dis den!” Not fo’ nuttin, I trew my deah depahted muddah’s ahmie boots an’ hit duh wiseguy on his toochus. He hit duh wawl behine duh reclinah lowng an’ hit duh flaw. I coulda’ knocked him all duh way to lawng Islan’ if there wasn’t a wawl in duh way. Instead, he got up, brushed himself awf  an’ stahted eatin’ Nawmuh’s boxa chawklit toitles on toppah duh cawfee table. Den he went aftah owuh pet boid Flip’s boid seed (Flip da Boid is a filthy pigeon who lives outside our apahtment). An’ den duh mawth went aftuh a piece of old cheeseboigah dat was hangin’ outta duh gahbidge

The mawth, (whose name was Mawtee accawding to his name tag. Yeah. Shuah. Right), pruhseeded to eat my fedorah an’ my goil Nawmah’s wool skoit. He chawmped on duh chayah, the cowch, duh lampshade, and duh rug, an’ he musta been paht toimite caws he stahted eatin’ duh flaw bawds which is made of boich.
He ate a glass pitcha. The juvenile delinquent was tearin’ up da apahtment. 

“So wayuhs my deezoit, ya bum?” he assed roodly. “Ya got maw clawth?”

“Bum? Does yaw mothah know you tawk like dat? I ought wash yaw doity mout out wit soap!”

“So cawl da marines, an’ bahbahcue me a steak aw somethin’ while we’re waitin’,” he says as he stahted noshin’ on duh caud that was plugged into duh wawl. There was spahks everywhere! 

“Listen!” I says back, as he stahted nibblin’ on my chia pet’s hayah. “Get awfuh my lawn, you lepidoptera you! Get lawst!”

It had been a lawng scawching summah. Even duh neighbawhood dawgs were too wawn out an’ too ty-ud to bahk. (Lass Toisday mawning, I thawt I was on fiah.) “I need to take a shauwah,” I said. “Some people have jahbs. I can’t stay here an’ play witcha. “When I get out of duh  John you bettah be hisstry. Bettah yet, go somewayah else, ya bum, an’ be geography.”  

Foist, I need to find something to wayuh.

Out in duh big city mawths was awl ovah, eaten poysin’s gahments. Awl duh apahtments in awl duh five burroughs had been invaded by a stawm of deez apawlin’ flyin’ tings.

When I looked inside of Nawmuh’s undahwayuh draw, I saw her tings ain’t been bahthid. Her “unmentionables” was unhoit. Undistoibed.

What’s unmentionables, kids?

Why awl dem silky frilly tings dat look like doilies. Awl sawft an…sh…stuff. The mawths left them awl alone cawse…Goils is smaht.

Why is goils smaht? 

Day is smaht becaws day bahthuh to tro in dem mawthbawls into duh drawahs.

An’ mawths hate the smell of whut?
Camfuh!— which is what mawthbawls is made of, ya lugs. Ya monkeys.

So, it toins out dat awl deh guys had to wawk to woik wearin’ dare goil’s frilly shawts — in pastel cullahs even. 

An’ dats awl we waw… ‘cause we didn’ have no trausahs aw nuttin’. No one on duh boulevahd, even dah hoity-toities, caws duh mawths had roond awl ah  clohdin.

So what happened?

We awl had ended up havin’ a big laugh aroun’ duh wawtuh coolah

caws all the palookahs at duh awfiss looked like crawsdressahs.

Wit duh help of duh feminine poysons wit dare wimmin’s intuwishins, we outsmahted duh scoige of da mawths. 

An’ dats why dem mawths is a buncha stinkin’ bugs, and us joiks ain’t. 

Tank youz.

(Next week on Speak Like a New Yawkah:

The extoiminatuhs (might bahthuh to show up if day feel like it.) 

an’ 

Flip, da Boid, will show us how to add duh “f” word and d-bag to a conversation.