I've always thought I could write snappy dialog, but I'm not good at formulating a story. Here's a random chunk of dialog I wrote, for which I have no story. Hope you enjoy it.
Scene: The protagonist is out at the bar, horribly drunk. He walks into the bathroom and saddles up at the only available urinal. The man to his left, the only guy in the bar who may be drunker than him, swaying as he pees, pisses slightly outside the allotted space of his urinal. The two have a conversation while they pee, looking straight ahead at the wall behind their respective urinals
Protagonist: Wow, watch where you're pissing there, Foster Brooks.
Stranger In the Men's Room: Who the fuck are you calling Foster Brooks? And just who in the hell is Foster Brooks?
Protagonist: He's the stereotypically drunk guy from the Dean Martin Show, but I wouldn't expect a popped collar beat-off like yourself to know that.
SMR: The Dean Martin Show? Sorry I didn't pick up on your old-ass, old man reference, old man. Fucking old guy at the bar talking the shit and shit. You got the puniest dick I ever saw too.
Protagonist: (never breaking his stare from the tile wall ahead of him) One, why in the hell are you looking at my penis?
Two, I'm a grower not a shower.*
Three I guess sort of relates to one, but didn't anyone ever tell you that you never look anywhere but straight ahead when you're pissing next to someone in the bathroom, whether that person be your father, uncle, step father, long-lost brother, Michael Landon, or a complete stroke with his collar popped, like yourself?
Four, why in the hell are you looking at my penis?
SMR: (laughing and still swaying) Dude, that didn't make any sense. You're all over the place with those numbers and your old man lecturing.
P: You're all over the place with your piss. That's a rule you should have learned way before the Look Dead Ahead at All Times rule, but since you failed that one so horribly, it shouldn't come as a surprise that you never learned the most simple of all urinal rules: Get all your gosh damn pee into the cotton-pickin', fuckin' urinal!
SMR: (shaking his thing and putting it away) I'll piss wherever I please. You plan on doing something about it, old guy at the bar?
Protagonist: (also finishing up, now turning towards SMR) For starters, me and my little peen can give you the mushroom stamp** of a lifetime on that Cro-Magnon five head*** of yours. Not even one of the skanks in this joint could be wooed back to your apartment when you're wearing that little seal of approval.
SMR: You ain't stampin' nothin'. Now, why don't you get back to your seven and seven, or whatever it is you old guys drink.
(The protagonist laughs to his side, and then tries to get in a sucker punch. He misses, but SMR does not, since although piss drunk, he's bigger, stronger, younger, and been in more fights. He hits Protagonist dead in the face, knocking him back into the stall door, and his ass falls down to the piss soaked floor.)
SMR: (Primping himself on the way out the door) I'll take a rain check on that stamp.
Protagonist: (Wiping blood off his lip) Hey, consider that an open invitation, Foster Brooks.
* Here's a link to that definition.
** Here's a link to a definition of the mushroom stamp.
*** Here's yet another link to the definition of five head. Urban Dictionary should be paying me to link all these. I just got those sick fucks 12 more readers!
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Foster Brooks: