Humor in dialog- Chap Harper
These two characters will remain humorous throughout the rest of the book. I usually pick out a few that interact in a way that once they are in character one can expect the humor. Many of the characters could be in a gun battle but these two never stop being funny. It is that vein of humor that you try to maintain throughout the book. Since my books are adult, sometimes the language is a little more realistic for some people's taste, so you might cover your eyes through the occasional "bad" word parts.
(Excerpt from Once Upon the Congo)
Sony may have planned his butt off for this trip, but he was not prepared for a young anthropologist who stood next to the large helicopter he was about to board.
She extended her hand “Hi! I’m Carol Barbot.”
Sony was in shock. Here stood a woman brushing back long blonde-streaked brown hair from her face—a runway model face. Beautiful white teeth glistened behind a smile wrapped with gorgeous full lips. She flashed lovely green eyes. He also noticed her dark olive complexion. As her soft feminine hand shook his, Sony sized up her body quickly and efficiently. All was in perfect harmony. Even her breasts were in motion while she and Sony shook hands. He had to act cool, since this most likely was the most beautiful woman he had ever touched, even in the form of a mere handshake.
“Carol, very nice to meet you. I’m Michael Sony Cole. You can call me Sony,” he said, as calmly as possible for a man who hadn’t been laid in a year. Now he was holding the hand of a first degree sex goddess.
“Did your parents name you after their television set?” She said. Her lips curled in a quirky smile.
“After the clock-radio next to their bed. Seemed like the thing to do after conception,” Sony said with a straight face. He had been down the Sony name road too many times.
Carol laughed out loud. She had met her match at smart-ass conversation. She might possibly have just met someone as handsome as she was beautiful. Sony was six foot three, slim, athletic, with a combination of his mother’s and dad’s good looks taken up a notch and capped off with a head of thick blond hair and piercing blue eyes.
“Did they hire you to be our expedition comedian, or do you have a real job here?” she quipped.
“My parents own part of the mining concession, and I’m not sure why I’m here. And you were sent here to keep our minds off of the perils of the jungle?” Sony said, a little sarcastically.
“Absofuckinglutely! Once I strip down to bathe in the river, the pygmies will line the banks, and you guys just shoot them all,” she said, also with sarcasm.
Sony laughed, and realized this woman was a lot of fun. “Just in case—since I would be lining the bank to watch as well—would you mind telling them not to shoot me?”
“You’re golden, Sony. I will save you from pygmies and friendly fire every time.”
“Carol, now really, tell me about yourself with the least amount of fabrication possible.”
“You make things hard for me, Sony. I was thinking about liking you—but now it’s over.” She was clearly having fun with him. “I am a certified first class cultural anthropologist. With three degrees, for which I am also—like a doctor. Not a real doctor who would ask you to drop your drawers—not that I might not ask that of you sometime, but the Ph.D. kind where you don’t get to see people naked.”
“So, Carol, we hired you for this expedition so that you can put tags on the toes of the natives we shoot? Or—maybe you are one of those bleeding hearts who will tell us not to shoot natives? I knew it! This expedition is not going to be any fun, and I want to go home.” Sony delved deeper into dark humor, knowing she would probably protect natives with her life.
“Sony, any natives you shoot have to be cleaned and stuffed for our museum. So don’t think you are just going to leave them in the jungle. The first thing you learn at anthropologist school is to not waste a dead pygmy. Very important to conserve the bounty nature gives us.” She laughed at how far she had carried the dead pygmy humor.
“Carol, I can’t wait any longer, since I’m beginning to think we could go on tour together. Are you married?” Sony realized all this banter could end quickly.
“No. Not this week. And you?”
“Not in the last year. Would you like to pretend we are married for the trip, and see if we would like it?”
“Sony—the man named after a clock-radio, I take you as my phony-ass husband as long as we are in the jungle together. Once we hit pavement again –it may be over.”
“Carol, I take these vows of marriage as just a stupid excuse to have sex together in the jungle, and will treat them and keep them, use them, for my own selfish satisfaction. So help me.”
“I pronounce us jungle married, and you may kiss the bride,” Carol said, as she pulled Sony close to her and kissed him. Actually, it was a very good deep kiss. They kissed again, and Sony said, “I had a ring picked out, but didn’t know your size.”
“Uh—I don’t know your size either. Maybe I should have waited to marry you until we had spent a little time together?"
“Oh, no! You are stuck with whatever size I am. Jungle divorces are almost impossible to get. Pygmies hate divorces and usually kill those who come before them with that request,” Sony said.
“Yes. I remember that from anthropology school. But as I recall the man is killed, and the chief takes the woman as a wife or . . . slave maybe.”
“Carol, you pull these anthropological assessments right out of your ass don’t you?"
“You’ll have to check later, sweetie, since it’s all yours in the jungle.”
“I like being married to you, Carol. You are so abnormal,” Sony said.
“Ah, yes, a most charming trait. You seem to possess abnormality at a deeper, psychological level—a level that someday may require medication.”
“Carol, I’ll loan you my meds anytime.”
While these two married each other and worked on a comedy routine, the jet carrying Mit, Chris and Modesto landed at the airport. The expedition would be headed out soon.