Category: Accents and diction

Shovelwork

He opened his mouth to say more but caught eye of Buck’s club-like dick resting on the floor between Buck’s legs — Buck was sitting splay-legged to air out his balls, which was disgusting.

“You feelin’ okay about ya work, Igo?” Lem asked once they got into it. He had a bottle of wine in hand — he kept wine in a cold box outside their heated area and saved it for special occasions. He drank from it, then pushed it upon Igo. “I seen you keepin’ up with them in the shovel room.”
“It is hard work! My shoulders are very tired,” Igo said. He opened his mouth to say more but caught eye of Buck’s club-like dick resting on the floor between Buck’s legs — Buck was sitting splay-legged to air out his balls, which was disgusting, Igo thought — as Lem’s foot ventured to it and Lem picked it up with his toes. He tried gripping the skin on the top of it, but he couldn’t get it up more than a few inches before it slipped out.
“Yeah, man, shovelwork is fuckin’ awful,” Lem said. His eyes were trained on his toes trying to pick up Buck’s shaft. “I did that on my first contract. You nevuh done shovelwork, Buck?”
Buck shook his head. “When I gots here-” He paused as Lem almost got his dick up with his toes, then it slipped out of his foot-grasp again. “Mistuh Chow said he ain’t want me doin’ shovel stuff on account of my ass bein’ tall and big and shit, and he say he need tall guys in the access chamber, and plus I prolly get hit in the head wit’ them shovels.”
“Oh yeah, yeah, they hit me couple times, hurts like hell,” Lem said. He was focused on picking up Buck’s dick with his toes, which distracted him from what he was saying. “And you… taller ‘an me… Buckums.”
Igo couldn’t tear his eyes away from that. Buck’s dong jiggled like jello as Lem slowly perfected curling his toes around the skin atop it. He finally got it up, slowly, gripping the skin tightly. Buck and Igo both sucked in their breath, Buck exuberantly but Igo with shock and disgust.
Lem finally had it up as high as he could, and then he made to sort of bump it in the air — making Igo shy away — and move his foot to the underside of it, so it landed like a flabby sausage on the top of his off-brown foot.
All three cheered, as all three realized they had gotten distracted from the game. Buck and Lem held cards in their hands, and more were spread out on the blanket in front of them.
Lem didn’t keep Buck’s dong on his foot. The whole reason he had started doing that was to see if he could get his foot close to Buck’s balls, so he could yell “balltap!” and kick him in the cojones. He did so and got Buck harder than he meant to. Buck yowled in pain and laughed, leaning back and gripping his balls to protect them from his foot.
“Owwwww, fuck, Lem, fuck-!” He kicked in the direction of Lem but didn’t really aim it. In this tiny space, it was hard to miss, but it was only a glancing blow to the meat of Lem’s hip, as he twisted away. “Makin’ my… balls achin’! Aw, fuck!”
Buck jumped up, and his dick flopped near Igo’s face. He backed off quietly. Buck paced in the tiny space — he could only take a few steps back and forth — as he held his sore balls. “Ow, shit! Lem, I nevuh hit ya balls that hard!”
Lem laughed. “I ain’t mean it, I ain’t mean to hit ’em that hard-” He held his hands up then went back to protecting his own balls. “Don’t — I ain’t mean to-“
“Fuck!” Buck roared and stamped his feet.
“I ain’t mean to kick that hard, sorry, sorry,” Lem said. He was still laughing too hard to sound genuine. “I ain’t mean to.” Then he did a horsey version of Buck’s Appalachian drawl. “Leeeeehm-uh, you’s mayahkin’ muh bawwwhhhls buh ayahkin! Ayahkin!”
“I don’t say it like that-! Fuck you, Lem!”
“Mah baaaaaaawwwhls iz ayahkin like baaaayahkin-“
Buck was laughing too now, as the pain in his balls eased. He had to admit that was funny — he had a comedic soft spot for guys getting hit in the balls. He still held them in his hand, his dong still dangling free. He bent over a little, realizing only too late that that put his hairy ass near Igo’s face. “Oh, my bad, Igo-“
“Shove somethin’ in there, Igo!” Lem said with a howl. “Just grab whatevuh you got ovuh there. He always used ta put his ass in my face till I jammed a handheld radio in his booty.” He made a little psst sound. “Went right up there. Nevuh came out.”

From Buck the Roughneck

That word went upon forever, despite Buck not pronouncing mosta it.

“You gotta finish our laundry still, I’s tired of wearin’ dirty shirts, and I’s nearabout outta drawers.”

“You gotta finish our laundry still, I’s tired of wearin’ dirty shirts, and I’s nearabout outta drawers.” That made Lem laugh, cuz the way Buck said drawers was funny: “dra’ueuhiuhs”. That word went upon forever, despite Buck not pronouncing mosta it. Buck frowned at Lem but spoke to Habib. “And redd up the flo’oh.”

From Buck on the Oil Rig

He fit a universe of vowels into that word.

“Numbuhs ain’t my strong suit, Simon.”

“I got no math skills, okay? Ya daddy, he tells me the figgahs to collect, but sometimes he gets aftuh me, I vexes him fer sho’, on account of me not exactementay doin’ it right. Addin’ it up, or like…” He paused and bristled. “You’d think he do be saying, oh go rassimble ten dollah from Monjwa Prêteur. But it ain’t, it’s more go get ten pehcent of this or get five pehcent of it wort’ outta sugah from de mill, and ya gotta convuht between dollahs and pounds of sookuh,” Buck said. “And sometimes folks be payin’ in fuckin’ bushels of cohn or automo-bile ti’es or some shit, and I ain’t… Numbuhs ain’t my strong suit, Simon.”

Simon ain’t never seen Buck blush before, but beneath his scruffy chin and cheeks, rouge deluged his skin. Simon patted him on the arm, clad in cotton and with palpable hairs beneath the fabric. Simon smiled too, because he liked hearing Buck swear — Simon was still young, and men often didn’t swear in front of him. Additionally, Simon enjoyed hearing Buck say ‘tires’: tiha’uhz. He fit a universe of vowels into that word.

From The Alphas of Louisiana

Drawn-out vowels and country-soft consonants

Her lipstick was smudged onto the tips of her teeth, but Sasha was too much the gentleman to point it out.

She attempted to conceal her holler-tinted drawl by over-enunciating, but her articulatory efforts only accentuated the drawn-out vowels and country-soft consonants of her palabras. Her lipstick was smudged onto the tips of her teeth, but Sasha was too much the gentleman to point it out.

From Sasha & the Filthy Alphas of Texas

Rare mirror area

“See? Total retard. Thick as custard. Not instant custard either, the proper stuff.”

“Oh, wait, wait, you gotta hear this, I took this lugnut to an antique store,” Mr. Gregarian said amid a pile of chortles. “Hey Rocky, say ‘I’ll meet you at the rare mirror area’.”
Rocky rolled his eyes and flared his nostrils. Then, enunciating as clearly as possible, he said, “Uiiih’ll meet’choo — meet you — at de — at the — rauuuh mee — raimmerrruh — air me ruh-“
“See? Total retard. Thick as custard. Not instant custard either, the proper stuff.”

From Rocky the Bouncer

Buck and Cody

Cody was on the lookout for excitement, not Buck’s burdensome plondering voice.

“You gotta focus, li’l buddy,” Buck said. He got this deep voice with long hollow vowels, a meandering drawl that made his voice easy to hear but hard to pay attention to, at least for someone like Cody. Cody was on the lookout for excitement, not Buck’s burdensome plondering voice. All Cody heard was a dull-edged no, and he ignored it.
Cody got a drawl too. They both growed up together, so they got the same accent. But Cody’s was brighter, quicker, sparkling, all consonants tumbling head over heels like a chaotic waterfall.

From Buck and Cody Locked Up Again

It proved Mister Chow don’t know nothing about black men. Or bwack men neither.

He poked out a line of incomprehensible syllables, and Steel and Lem nodded along like agreeable eggplants.

The rig bossman Mister Chow was half a dumpling high, but he shouted loud as soybeans, swear to God. He came rampaging like a Mongol into the corridor when a brawl went boom-a-boom-boom. Steel and Lem done throw down like a dogpound at some Haitian niggas, who got liquor they ain’t share. Lem proposed a transaction, and the Haitians was receptive, till the truck ‘tween them and he and him turnt truculent.

But only a paltry packa punches got dealt on both sides before Mister Chow chopsticked in like a miniature monsoon. He carried a cricket bat. “You bwack men-ooh you ooh-shoo choo-woo-moo-choo-” or some shit. Steel couldn’t understand Mister Chow when he wasn’t batting the butter outta Haitian booty and he damn sure ain’t catch a word now. He did pick up the oughty-notty that Mister Chow thought all the black men shouldn’t fight each other.
That had a certain logic to it, but it proved Mister Chow don’t know nothing about black men. Or bwack men neither.

Soon enough, Mister Chow arrived, furying up a storm of stewed plums. He jabbed his fat little fingers in the air, and he said buncha words that Steel ain’t quite catch — Mister Chow got one helluva Chinaman accent. He poked out a line of incomprehensible syllables, and Steel and Lem nodded along like agreeable eggplants.

From Steel the Roughneck

Hirrabirry

“Mistah Chow prolly mad as a steamed bun. Bap! Bap! Bap-bap-bappity-bap!”

“Hey, you on a broke-record, Buckums. Shut up, hillbilly. Hirrabirry.”
Finally Buck’s face softened and he laughed sheepish-like. Hirrabirry was how Mistah Chow said ‘hillbilly’, and it do make Buck laugh when he hear it. “Mistah Chow prolly mad as a steamed bun. Bap! Bap! Bap-bap-bappity-bap!”
“You is a hirrabirry, he right ’bout that, Buckums,” Lem said. “Mistah Chow tell it how it is.” He leggo Buck’s balls. “He tell it wit’ his Rs and his Ls mixed up, but othuh than that, he got yo’ hillbilly number.”

From Buck on the Oil Rig