Scripting languages come to dinner

The Doggy-Nator

Summary: What if the scripting languages were human, and came to have dinner with you?

So, it’s that night again. All you uncles are coming to dinner tonight, and your mother has dressed you up, and asked you to behave yourself. It’s dinner time, and you sit at the table and try to act nice.

The first to come in is your uncle Perl. He is wearing a black t-shirt and jeans, and even though he is starting to bald, he has taken the few strands of hair he has left and tied them into a pony tail. Right behind him is Ruby, your youngest uncle. He is wearing the latest fashionable clothes from HipsterDressingCo, and looks like a TV star. Ruby is working on his iPhone, and barely nods at you. Right behind him is Coldfusion. Finally, your mom brings in PHP, and ties a bib around his neck. He promptly tries to eat his fork.

The last to come in is your frumpy uncle, Python Fred. He is wearing a bad pressed coat, and it looks like he hasn’t slept much. “Sorry I’m late, everyone. Lot of work at the office.”

“That’s okay,” says your mom. “You work too hard, Python.” She serves the food, and everyone starts eating. Everyone except for Ruby, who is playing with his phone.

“Ruby,” says your mom, a little exasperated, “the food will get cold.”

Ruby makes a face. “Sorry, but I don’t have time for such small things as eating. At the startup where I work, we often work right thru the night. It’s the coolest company in the world. We are making widgets that will used to display dancing monkey ads for social media plugins in community driven networked devices, while providing SEO optimisation at the same time. Yeah, you see, we are really cutting edge. So cool, aren’t we?”

Everyone ignores him. “Hey, do you want to hear me say how cool I am ten more times?” says Ruby, and proceeds to do just that for the next five minutes.

Perl rolls his eyes. “Kids. Wait till all those hip startup types turn forty, and go work for BigBoringCorp. Let’s see how hip you are then.”

You start eating, when Python interrupts you.

“Why are you holding the fork  in the right hand? It should be in the left.”

“Why does it matter…” you start to say.

“And there isn’t enough space between your hands. You need to have enough empty space between your hands. The prophet Guido said so, and so it must be done this way.”

“But why,” you ask.

“Because it is Written this Way! Python only has One Way, and those who do not follow the Way burn in hell!”

Before you can say anything, Perl turns to your mom. “Hey, this food has gotten cold. Can I microwave it?”

“No!” Your mom snatches the plate from him. “You are banned from using the microwave, remember?”

You look around, confused. “Why is uncle Perl banned from the microwave?”

Python laughs. “Cause the last time he got near one, he turned it into a time vortex manipulation device, and almost blew up the planet. So he’s not allowed near any radiation device now. The president has personally ordered it. Perl has a habit of tinkering with everything he works with, and since he is messy and forgetful, he usually forgets what he was doing and ends up blowing stuff a lot.”

Coldfusion is sitting sad, so you ask him what’s wrong. “Nothing. No one loves me.”

“That’s not true, Cold.”

“It is. I was hip for exactly three weeks in 1999.”

“Yeah, but you got enough big corporations interested in you, didn’t you? Now they are stuck paying you thousands of dollars every month.”

“Maybe. But I’d like to be hip again.”

“We all would,” says Python. He rubs his bald spot. “I wish I was young and cool again, but I have to pay the bills now. Can’t spend all my time blogging how cool I am.”

There is a scream, and everyone turns to PHP. He has been trying to shove a fork up his nose. Your mom comes and stops him.

“Sad,” says your uncle Python. “We would send him to the hospital, but he brings in a large amount of money.”

“Really?” you ask, a bit surprised.

“Yes. Thousands of programmers and websites use him, because he was once considered easy to use, and was the default supported language on many servers. So even though he is mentally unsound, often behaves strangely, gets drunk and runs around naked on the street, we keep him, because all those programmers would be very angry if we got rid of him.”

PHP is talking to himself again. “After I’ve finished eating, I will go and see Miss MySql.”

“No!” your mom shouts out. “You know you aren’t allowed to see her, or any other lady from the Database Academy, after what you did to her last time. They have a restraining order.”

“What did he do?” you ask, but Python shushs you.

“We don’t talk about it. It was something that brought us a lot of embarrassment. Let’s just say Miss MySql will have problems getting married now.”

The dinner is over, and everyone is leaving. Python thanks everyone, and says he has work to do. You walk your uncles out, and wish them all goodnight. As they are all leaving, you see Bash and Dos Batch File running to the house.

“Did we miss the dinner?” they ask. “We got left behind.”


Related: Programming languages come to dinner The same treatment, but with compiled languages.

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