(Two men are sitting at
a table. One man is doing nothing but watching the clock. The other
is reading a magazine and eating.)
(The doorbell rings. Both
men get up.)
(Knocks over the man who was eating.)
"I'll get it."
(Stops, looks back at the guy he just knocked over.)
"What are you waiting for?!? The fuckin' doorbell's ringing."
(Gets up and walks to the door.)
(There is a man at the
door holding a pizza box.)
"What?! I didn't order a pizza...OH-SHIT!"
(Takes off running.)
(The two men catch him,
and they hit him with a pizza box. They drag him back to the living
room, where he stands up.)
"Alright, let's do this...I'm on a tight schedule...the lamb's
been acting up ever since that spork incident."
"GET DOWN ON YOUR FUCKING KNEES!"
(Gets down on all fours.)
"I SAID YOUR FUCKING KNEES, BITCH!"
(Gets down on his knees.)
"TAKE OFF YOUR SHIRT!"
(Takes off his shirt.)
(To Male #1) "Get it out."
"Oh shit..what is it this time?"
(Pulls out a giant pixy stick.)
"Prepare to meet your doom."
(Hands pixy stick to Male #3.)
"What?! Are you kidding me is this a (gets whipped) HOLY FUCKING
GOD IN HEAVEN!"
(Whips Male #2 until he starts crying.)
"Why...oh god why-hi-hi?!?
" 'Why?!' 'Why?!' I'll tell ya why. Here, let me set the fucking
scene for ya. Six years ago. I was gone on vacation to Ar-Kansas for
a week. You were supposed to watch my dog and bring in my mail and the
newspaper. November 15th, 1998, the classified sections was missing.
What do you have to say to that?! Huh?! You think I don't know you don't
get the paper?!"
"Was it a Monday?"
"Yeah...how the fuck did you know?"
"The classifieds don't come on Mondays."
"Oh, I stand corrected."
"So that's why you've been viciously and ruthlessly beating me
all these years at random times?:
"Yeah. We're letting you go this time, but next time...next time,
you won't be so lucky."
"If we ever see you again, we'll fucking kill you."
"I live here..."