Mitică (Romanian pronunciation: [miˈtikə]) is a fictional character who appears in several sketch stories by Romanian writer Ion Luca Caragiale. The character's name is a common hypocoristic form of Dumitru or Dimitrie (Romanian for Demetrius). He is one of the best-known figures in Caragiale's 1901 collection Momente şi schiţe, as well as in Romanian humor at large. Mitică is a male resident of Bucharest whose background and status are not always clear, generally seen as an allegory of the average Bucharester or through extension, inhabitants of Romania's southern regions—Wallachia and Muntenia. According to accounts, he was based on a resident of Sinaia, whom Caragiale had befriended.
Caragiale used Mitică as a stock character to feature in satirical contexts; the biographical insights he provided are short and often contradict each other. Among Mitică's traits are his tendency to generate sarcastic comebacks and sententious catchphrases, a Francized speech, as well as inclinations to waste time and easily find his way out of problematic situations. His existence is connected to events in the history of Bucharest which he occasionally references in his jokes. Like Lache and Mache, who are present in Caragiale's fiction, the character is usually portrayed as a civil servant who has a hard time making ends meet, but who is well liked by his peers.
Mitić is a Serbian surname. Notable people with the surname include:
We were going nowhere faster than you
Our engines were racing hot and our skin turning blue
Out of our skulls no sleep for a week
You could say we were major league tweeks
We were so strung out and having a blast
Part of that white trash underworld criminal class
We were running those scams, living life on the lam
Living so crazy, eye always looking out for the man
Lowlife trash, bikers and assorted riff-raff
Could you kick it down is what we used to laugh
We were so strung out and having a blast
Part of that white trash underworld criminal class
We were strung, dumb and problems we thought we had none
Generational meth lab dysfunctional kinda' fun
We were going faster nowhere than anybody else
Sure as hell wasn't good for our health
I know we just had to see how high we could fly
Just hope you made it through to the other side
We would never front you off, but could you front me and pay you back real soon
Stealing mail, cashing checks, sweating it out in the heat of noon
Snitch us out and we'll make you pay for it some day
Thick as thieves is what we used to say...
Going nowhere fast... nowhere fast... nowhere faster than you
Then sure enough you're looking out from inside a cell
Trying to figure a way out of this hell
Easy getting hooked tougher getting out
And if you make it then you got the right to sing and shout
We were so strung out and having a blast
Part of that white trash underworld criminal class
We were strung, dumb and problems we thought we had none
Generational meth lab dysfunctional kinda' fun
We were going faster nowhere than anybody else
Sure as hell wasn't good for our health
I know we just had to see how high we could fly
Just hope you made it through to the other side
We would never front you off, but could you front me and pay you back real soon
Stealing mail, cashing checks, sweating it out in the heat of noon
Snitch us out and we'll make you pay for it some day
Thick as thieves is what we used to say...