In My Opinion

In my opinion guys shouldn't slam their dicks in the door. It not good for the donger or the door. Door hinges are specifically designed to swing freely and if there is a hunk of wiener in the way when it's trying to close, unnecessay force is applied that could damage or ruin the door's natural open/close operation. If it's one of those really heavy wooden doors then it may just slam shut and take that wang-wang clean off. I would never do it.

I also think people need to pay more attention while driving in parking lots. I was forced to call an old lady a "stupid bitch who's driving around with her nasty wrinkled head up her nasty wrinkled ass." That was someone's grandma and I bet she was really nice. She more than likely gives her grandchildren hard candy when they visit. She probably even has an old milk crate filled with ancient wooden toys from the 30's for the kids to play with. When her six year old great-grandson visits she get's all excited, "Oh my, I have just the think for you little man!" Then she drags this box of shit out from the back porch and completely misreads the poor kids face as being excited. "Look how happy his is!" He's pissing on your stupid toys you dumb cunt. He hates them and he hates you because you're old as fuck and you can't fucking find a parking space without endangering the lives of everyone in the parking lot. Someone needs to put you in a home.

Bats shouldn't swoop down and get tangled in womens hair. What a dick move this is.

Dog's shouldn't be allowed look humans in the eye. This is a sign that they think they're better than you. There's enough folk out there with self esteem issues. We don't need anyone else going off the deep end simply because Fido thinks he's Mr. Big Shot. And here is the rest of it. Read more!

How to Wipe Your Butt

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Didn't Even Get a Hand-Job Offer

I had just finished stuffing my fucking face with an exorbitant amount of Korea's finest fried chicken when my son decided he wanted to try his luck at the "over and up poke'em game" across the way. These piece of shit money traps are on every street corner and outside of every convenient store in this tiny country. They're better than those claw grabbing horse shits where you couldn't pick up a feather wrapped in double sided tape with magnets all over the fucker even if it was tied to the end of the claw. Some little prick would pop his head around the corner and shake the machine and the feather would drop like a heavy handed bowler scooping up mash potatoes at an all-you-can-eat dick sucking party.

Ahem.

So my son's playing this game at a dollar a play. It's going to cost him about five bucks to make the ding-dong light-up flower he's aiming for fall and I don't give a shit. He'll owe me the money and pay up by the end of the week. If not I throw his favorite toys out the window. So, I just keep shoveling dollars at the little bastard while I try and finish a cigarette. After about the third dollar I notice this fat dirty looking Korean guy sitting on a bench behind us. Nothing out of the ordinary. He didn't seem like the normal rabble that hung around though. He seemed a little less dirty and not quite old enough to be at that rock-bottom beg-for-your-beer stage in life but what the fuck do I know. I barely looked at the guy. Until he stands up and gets right behind my son. So I give the guy a look. Just a quick "let's make sure you're not a dangerous dirt-bag" look. The guy gives me the quick head-nod as if he was passing me some secret fucking code that only him and I would understand. Unfortunately I didn't and looked away real fast. I realized that he might have just passed me the "I'm homeless and will jack you off for a couple of bucks" nod. Man-o-man, I sure can pick'em. The one homeless guy that wants to jack me off and he's fat.

Well, I didn't really want to be jacked off anyway, I had jacked off earlier in the day. I watch my son lose another one of my dollars, hand him another, and just to be sure I glace over my shoulder again. Big fat smelly dirty rotten tooth guy is still there and he gives me the same quick head-nod signal! I'm thinking, how do I say in Korean "sorry, but you can't twist my crank shaft because I have a stomach full of fried chicken. And another thing, my son's playing this game." I just about gave him the universal sign for "no playing with my dick-O" when he started speaking some piss poor broken English. I get the gist of it though. He just wants money. I give the guy five bucks, didn't get jacked-off, didn't even get offered to get jacked-off.

Would it hurt these begging bastards to at least offer to put their hands on the private parts of the beggees? What's the world coming to? I think they should show those starving children in Africa making the universal "I'll jack you off for food" sign into the camera. I bet they get more donations. I'd donate more just because I'd love seeing the commercial. A bunch of blister bellied orphans with flies walking right across their fucking eyeballs pointing into the camera, then pointing to themselves, then making the "jack-off" hand signal. I'm not saying it's funny that they're hungry. Fuck that shit. Hungry isn't funny. Before I crammed six days worth of fried chicken meat in my mouth I was a grumpy shit bag. Now I'm doing okay.

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Smelling the Flowers

When trying to decide between two evils I think it's best to just flip a coin. As a matter of fact, I think the coin flip is probably the best way of going about making any decision. Should I shower today? Coin says no. What about brushing my teeth? Nope. How about wiping my butt? Yes.

Of course you just can't walk around flipping a goddamn coin every time you need to make a decision like you're a fucking Batman villain. You'll look like a jackass and people will stop taking you serious. Being taken serious by everyone is very important. I know because the coin told me so. That's not entirely true. You only need to be taken serous by people you want to be like or are scared of. This could be any number of people depending where you're located on the social ladder, but generally this would be your boss, teachers, lawyers, members of the opposite sex, dogs, lions, and all large meat eating semi-aquatic mammals.

Instead of flipping a stupid mother fucking coin, try picking a color. For instance, you are standing in line at Starbucks and you're trying to decide whether to fart or continue to hold it in. You look over your shoulder and see there's this smoking hot Russian ballerina doing the splits behind you and behind her is the West Virginia State Cheer Leading Squad and they're all bragging about how well their noses work. Seems like the fart or no fart question is pretty obvious doesn't it? Well, not so fucking fast. If you continue to hold in your fart it's liable to work it's way up into your throat creating a dreaded fart burp. Blowing a fart burp into a Starbucks employees face is like begging the Pope to let you finger bang his butt-hole--not recommended. So you decide that if the next thing you pull out of your pocket is red, blue, green, or purple you will fart, if it's black, tan, brown, or light brown you'll fart burp. It's so fucking easy to do.

Get with the program. This isn't rocket science we're talking about here. I don't even know how many times I get asked shit like "What if my dad says, no?" or "Should I go dancing?" These things DO NOT matter. The only decisions that truly matter are the ones that get you money or sex or compliments. Compliments are so fucking important that it doesn't make sense. And for fucking sake, get your compliments in front of other people! If some low-life tells you that you look cool when you walk and no ones around to hear it, it didn't happen. Think of it like this, would you believe that someone walked up to another person and said "Hey pal, you walk cool." Of course you wouldn't. No one talks like that.

Lastly, take the time to smell some flowers. It's not an accident that they smell nice. If they wanted you to go around sniffing sewage recycling plants then guess what? They'd smell nice, but they don't.

Love,

Zane

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Beacon's Point

     “Beacon’s Point?” Gill rubbed his chin. He’d heard of the place before. It was supposedly haunted by the ghost of a little girl who was murdered there in the 60’s. “I’m not sending the guy’s down that road. They’ve seen enough for one day.”

     “Oh, for fucks sake. You’re not thinking about those old stories are you?” Herb said. He looked around at the five other men standing beside the road. “Sure, they’ve seen a lot today, but detouring four miles ain’t helping them either. Not because of some stupid fucking ghost story. I say we head straight into the Point.”

     Bill wasn’t sure if it was the ghost of the little girl or something else that twisted his stomach at the thought of Beacon’s Point. He remembered when he was nine years old his grandmother told him that Beacon’s Point was a “nasty place teenagers went to rub and scrub their bodies on each other.” He didn’t have any idea what she meant by that and always assumed that it had something to do with taking a bath.

     By the time he actually saw the Point for the first time, as a teenager, he got to experience the rub and the scrub first-hand with Jenny Coulders. It was an awkward affair with Jenny doing most of the rubbing and scrubbing. Bill just sat there like a corpse with a hard-on. Even though he was getting his dick rubbed for the first time, he couldn’t help but think about the ghost.

     At one point—Jenny had moved on from the rub and was now doing some scrub—Bill actually convinced himself that he did see the ghost. He was just about to make a mess in his underwear (for the second time) when he saw movement outside the passenger window. He thought it looked like someone with a flashlight

     “Someone’s out there,” he whispered.

     Jenny paused mid-scrub to look out the window.

     “Oh, shit! It’s my dad!”

     She bolted upright and into the driver’s seat in one swift fluid motion. Both of them sat silently staring straight ahead waiting for the inevitable knock on the car door from Jenny’s father. Bill boner quickly faded into his slick and sticky boxers. His heart pounding in his chest. After what seemed to be several hours the two relaxed, accepting the fact that no knock was coming.

     They were stuck in an uncomfortable silence. Bill was trying to figure out what his next “move” should be while Jenny wondered just what the fuck she was doing all the way out here with a loser who was too afraid to pull his tiny dick out.

     The mood had passed for Jenny as she turned the key in the ignition.

     “I getting hungry. You want to—“ she never finished that sentence.

     The window next to her head exploded inwards taking the top of her of her head clean off. The object that had flown through the window exited the car via the roof through an eight-inch slit it created with lighting speed. Bill only saw the tracers. He looked down at the severed scalp and passed the fuck out.


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What I think heaven is like

Despite my insane attitudes toward life and limbs, I do believe in heaven above. I think that when we die our souls (barely visible versions of ourselves) float out of our bodies and float all the way in to the sky. There's a bunch of other souls up in the clouds with special nets designed to catch the souls. If you're a piece of shit or if they're not paying attention your soul will just keep floating up into outer space. No one knows where you'll end up then. Probably getting butt fucked my Martians.

The people who are caught in the nets (about 86%) get dumped out on their heads. It's going to hurt and you'll be tempted to jump up and start a fight but then you'll realize you're on a cloud and that's going to scare the shit out of you. Then some dude with a beard will float up to you and start singing some boring song about your life. You're going to be bored out of your mind but some parts will be cool. There's a verse about the first time you fucked a girl and it'll be a little embarrassing to listen to because your grandma will be standing right there shaking her head but it's still cool.

After the song you have to get stripped searched to make sure you're not smuggling any contraband into heaven. They make you get fully nude and they're going to look in your butt hole. It's sick as fuck but they wont stick a finger in there or anything unless you give them probable cause, so don't clench your cheeks too tight.

Next you'll be fitted for your new clothes. You go into this big empty room with a ton of other souls and you'll all still be naked. There's going to be some hot girls in there too and you're going to think that one of them wants to fuck. You'll start to get horny and then this older heavenly guy will come over and give you a talking to and make you feel like a dick. He gives you this big long speak about "bodies and lust and boners and blah, blah, blah" By the time he's finished you wont want to do it with that chick anymore. That speech is the equivilant of saltpeter. It sucks but you wont have to worry about getting hard-ons while wearing your new clothes which are nothing more than shitty K Mart bedsheets.

When you're done, that's it. You're dead and in heaven. You can look down and see all the people that you used to know. Those are the only people you can see too; them and reletives. You can't just randomly look down and watch the circus for instance. It's good advice to know as many people as you can so you can watch more people when you die. I'm probably going to spend most of my time watching my great grand children learn to ride bikes. I just think it's fun to watch them fall down and cry. That sounds mean but I don't think it is. That's a hell of a time in a childs life. Learning how to fall and fuck your knee all up and then get back on the mother fucker knowing there's a good chance it's going to happen again. That takes some balls. Sometimes I think those balls shrink as people get older. As soon as something happens and they think there's even a small possiblility they're going to get hurt they won't do something. That's bullshit.

I hope my balls never shrink.



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There's a good chance this will happen.

Tomorrow's Tax Day and everyone knows what that means: time to give/get atomic wedgies to the old man who lives next door.

I love Tax Day. It's my favorite fucking time of the year. I know Old Man Jensen hates it; can't rightly blame him. He's the one who gets the fuck ripped out of his underwear and his butt hole all torn to smithereenies. Of course there's always the chance that you yourself could get your undergarment snatched nice and tight like up your own shit crack. There is a chance of that, but it's so unlikely nowadays that I hardly even think about it. All I care about is getting my hands on Old Man Jensen's elastic waistband and pulling the shit right out of it. I might even bite him this year. It's frowned upon in most Tax Day circles, but I say "fuck'um."

Hopefully, the butt-face looking dude who lives upstairs doesn't get to the old man first. There is a good chance that will happen. I overheard Dr. Butt-Face talking to his daughter-in-law about how he just bought this new chair and how he was going to sit on it all night long waiting for the Tax Day bell to ring. He'll more-than-likely shit in the chair too because his ass is so big turds have a hard time staying inside his stomach.

Unfortunately I don't have a chair for my turds to jump into. I don't even have a tree that I could make a chair out of. I'd give up half a wedgie if I could get my hands on a good chair building tree. There's only two chances of that one ever happening which are slim and none. The trees around here just aren't made for chair building. They're too tall and the wood is too hard. Most of them are even covered in this real tough looking shit called "tree skin" that I'd just assume avoid.

My game plan for getting to the old man first is a simple one. First, I'll be wearing a disguise. It's an elaborate get-up complete with a wig and fake mustache. There's also a fake road sign that looks like it's sticking out of my right leg and a rubber hammer glued to my left leg. Both my ears will be glued tightly to my head making hearing anything virtually impossible. I decided to actually shave my head instead of wearing one of those corny bald wig things. Those always make me look stupid. And the final piece of the custom, the piece that turns this from ordinary to extraordinary, are my fully functioning rocket skates that'll strapped to my feet. I haven't tried them out yet because the the guy who sold them to me said there was a better than average change that I'll blow my feet off the first time I use them. I hope Old Man Jensen get's to be the poor sucker who sees that!

Part two of my plan is call him first and ask him nicely if he'll let me rip his underwear up his butt. If he says no, I'm fucked. If he says yes, it's game on. Fuck right it is.




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Coach

I gathered up all the stray dogs in my neighborhood this morning and had a little talk with them all. They're a great group but they don't focus. They're always washy wiggling around with their heads in outer space when they need to be focusing on the game.

"Listen, you're nice dogs and I like you. But you're going to have to get your shit together if you ever want to make it to the NBA," I said.

I could tell they weren't listening so I started picking on them one by one.

"You there, the one with the spots. You could be a pretty damn good rebounder but you don't block-out like you should. You have to know where your man is at all times and when that shot goes up, you put your ass right on him!"

That was Yogurt Face. They gave him that nickname because every time he eats yogurt he wipes a bunch on his cheeks to be funny. It was funny the first time then it just got old. He still fucking does it too.

Next I wanted to address the fact that these fucking animals didn't even seem to know how to play basketball.

"Just how in the fuuuuck do you think you're going to get drafted when you don't even play the fucking game!"

Time to switch gears on their asses. This next little speech I'd been saving in my back pocket for a rainy day.

"When the going gets tough, get fucking tough with it or you're going to have your little tushies broken the fuck off inside another man's mouth!"

Oh boy, that got'em going. One jumped right off the top of the washing machine and ran into the wall. He cracked his head pretty good and there was a fair amount of blood pouring from his mouth.

"That's what I'm talking about! Who's with me?"

It was my turn. I couldn't let the team think I wasn't man enough bash my own head into the wall. I stepped back about forty yards and ran as fast as I could with my pants around my ankles. In hindsight I shouldn't have pulled them down to begin with, but it was too late. By the time I got near the wall it was too dark to see and I couldn't hardly find my ass with both hands. I started crying and screaming for my mommy.

The dogs lost all respect for me that day. They fired me as their head coach. It was for the best though. I read in the papers today that everyone but Shaky got launched into space on some experimental rocket headed for Saturn. I always thought that Saturn was a big waste of time. But what do I know, I'm just a stupid ex coach who can't even ram his own head into a wall after getting a forty yard running start.



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Borrowing A Book

EXT NED’S FRONT LAWN-DAY

NED is walking with KIM up the path towards his front door.

NED

That book I was telling you about is right inside. I’ll run in and get it. I’d invite you in but the place is a wreck. I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable.

KIM

Don’t worry about it. You should see my place. It’s a complete disaster area.

NED

Oh, all right. Come on in.

He is about to open the door then stops.

NED

(cont)

There is one thing I think I should mention. I do have a roommate and he can be a bit rude sometimes. Please don’t take offense. He’s just a bit unbalanced.

KIM

Alright.

NED

Yeah, I’d avoid starting any conversations with him.

KIM

We’re just getting the book aren’t we?

NED

Oh yeah. In and out. It’ll just be a second.

KIM

Sure.

NED

He’s got this thing about Eastern Europe, it’s weird. So try and avoid talking about that too much.

KIM

Eastern Europe? What sort of thing does he have about Eastern Europe?

NED

Oh no. I knew I shouldn’t have brought it up. You’re going to ask him about it now aren’t you?

KIM

No. It’s just strange that’s all.

NED

I know, super strange. He’s such a weird guy.

Ned starts to open the door again then stops.

NED

(cont)

I should also warn you that we have cats.

KIM

I love cats.

NED

We have about a hundred of them.

KIM

A hundred cats? In there?

NED

Yeah, and some of them are quite large.

KIM

Wow, that’s...interesting.

NED

We also have some strange pictures hanging up on the wall. I just wanted to warn you before you see them so you don’t freak out.

KIM

I’m starting to think you don’t want me to borrow that book.

NED

No,no, it’s nothing like that. I just don’t want you to freak out is all.

KIM

Well, I don’t freak out that easily. So I don’t think it’ll be a problem.

NED

Good, that’s good. If my Dad calls don’t pick up the phone.

KIM

What?

NED

My Dad, if he calls don’t pick up the phone. If you do forget and accidentally pick up the phone just don’t lie to him about anything. He hates liars.

KIM

I can assure you, I have no intention of picking up your phone or lying to your father.

NED

Okay. Oh, also, a murder once took place in my house.

KIM

Uh, okay. That doesn’t bother me.

NED

It was earlier this afternoon.

KIM

I should go.

NED

No, please! Look, I really like you. I guess that’s why I’m trying so hard to not freak you out.

KIM

I like you too, Ned. Just relax a little. Let’s just get that book and we’ll call it a night.

NED

Okay, come on in.

THEY ENTER THE HOUSE. WE SEE NED’S ROOMMATE, HAL, SITTING IN A ROCKING CHAIR

NED

Hi, Hal.

HAL

Who’s the skirt?

NED

Hal, this is Kim.

KIM

How do you do?

HAL

She’s not Eastern European is she?

NED

No, Hal.

KIM

I’m from the upper West side.

NED AND KIM CONTINUE ON INTO THE STUDY

KIM

So um, Ned didn’t commit that murder you alluded to earlier, did he?

NED

He’s a person of interest.

KIM LOOKS AT THE WALL AND SEES A LARGE PAINTING OF AN OLD MAN WEARING A DIAPER AND NOTHING ELSE.

NED

(cont)

Here’s that book I was telling you about. You’re not getting freaked out are you. I like to paint pictures of old men wearing diapers.

KIM

It’s... lovely. I thought you said you have cats.

NED

Shit. Don’t move.

KIM

What is it?

NED

They’re hunting us.

KIM

The cats?

NED

No, the pictures of old men wearing diapers.

KIM

Huh?

NED

Yes, of course the cats you idiot.

KIM

I’m leaving. You can keep your book.

THE PHONE RINGS

NED

(whispering)

Don’t move.

HAL

(yelling from the other room)

Ned, it’s your Dad. Do you want me to tell him you’re not here?

NED

NO!

HAL

(still yelling from the other room)

Okay. Oh, and don’t worry about the cats. I stuffed them all in the dryer when the cops were here.

NED

(relaxing)

Oh man, that’s a relief.

KIM

I’m still leaving.

NED

What? Why? At least take the book.

KIM

Well, I have been wanting to read it.

NED

Yeah, see? And you know the library doesn’t have it. I had this one special ordered.

KIM

Alright.

NED

And I’ll only charge you one hundred dollars a day.

KIM

Nope, you’re done.

KIM WALKS OUT OF THE ROOM. NED IS CLOSE BEHIND. SHE GETS TO THE FRONT DOOR AND THROWS IT OPEN. NED’S DAD IS STANDING THERE.

DAD

I knew it! Hal, you lied to me!

HAL

Mr. Nelson no! I didn’t mean it!

DAD

You’re gonna get it now. The BEAR is coming for you!

NED’S DAD PUTS HIS ARMS IN THE AIR AND DOES A TERRIBLE IMPRESSION OF A BEAR. HE’S SNARLING AND GROWLING AND STARTS SLOWLY “BEAR WALKING” TOWARD HAL WHO TAKES OFF RUNNING.

DAD

(getting right in Kim’s face)

That’s what happens when people lie to me.

NED

Dad stop it! I’ve already warned her.

DAD

Is that right? What else has Ned told you?

KIM

Nothing, I’m just here to borrow a book. That’s all!

DAD

A book? What book?

KIM HANDS DAD THE BOOK.

DAD

(cont)

I can’t believe it.

NED

I was going to charge her a hundred dollars a day!

DAD

I can’t believe you’d do this to your father.

KIM WALKS OFF

NED

Please Dad! Not the bear!

WE SEE DAD START DOING HIS BEAR ROUTINE AGAIN. THEN WE SEE KIM WHO’S WALKED DOWN THE STREET ABOUT A BLOCK. SHE WALKS UP TO A CAR. THERE’S A GUY SITTING IN THE DRIVERS SEAT.

GUY

Did you get the book?

KIM

No, they’ve got a bear protecting it.

GUY

FUCK!

KIM GETS IN THE CAR AND THEY DRIVE OFF.

END

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Nickname Fart Fuck

It was the smell of shit that finally woke me up, coming in the form of a fart being blown directly into my face from a strange asshole that was two inches away from my nose. This was followed by the sound of three men laughing hysterically.

The events leading up to me being farted on my strangers slowly started coming back, populating my barely conscious mind. I had an awful hangover and for once in my life I actually enjoyed the mind numbing headache and nausea that was always there to greet me the morning after a night of heavy drinking, it kept my mind from processing the full load of humiliating events all at once. No, this night would have to be carefully reconstructed and then immediately stored in the “Things to Never Do Again” area of my brain.

I had just finished my set and was carrying my equipment to the van when P.J., the greasy bartender, approached and asked if I wanted to “party”. In the ten years that I’ve been traveling around the country I’ve been asked to “party” countless times. This term has a wide range of meanings and it’s always best to have it clarified before agreeing to any “party”. You don’t want to accidentally agree to be butt fucked when you thought you were agreeing to a bump of coke. So I asked P.J. what type of party and he assured me it was just a regular house party. There’d be a keg of beer, drugs, girls, and most importantly, he said I could crash on the couch when it was all over. I immediately agreed.

The party was in full swing by the time we arrived and P.J. had not been lying about what to expect. There looked to be about a hundred people, all transported from the bar, and everyone looked to be having a great time. I helped myself to a cup of beer and began scoping the crowd for a date. Before I finish that first beer someone screamed “Fucking Cuervo, man!” and started passing around an extra-large bottle of tequila. No salt and no lime for this crowd, it was simply take one down and pass it around. When the bottle came my way I tried handing if off without taking a drink (a lot of unclean looking people had already drank out of that bottle) which apparently is huge no-no amongst P.J. and his gang. The penalty for not drinking from the bottle was that I had to take two drinks. I realize that doesn’t make sense but you have to understand these “rules” were made up by drunk people. I once again attempted to get myself out of this game which was another penalizing offense and that meant, you guessed it, I now had to take three drinks. Not wanting to risk losing my spot on the couch, I finally gave in and took three long pulls out of the bottle. Goodnight brain, I thought to myself and proceeded to get wildly intoxicated.

The details of the night are a bit blurry but I distinctively remember agreeing to the nickname “Fart Fuck” after I told someone that liked the smell of my own farts.

I am now sitting in the E.R. waiting for someone to treat this nasty case of Conjunctivitis I received from being farted on so many times. I’m going to miss playing in several well paying rigs and I’ll be sleeping in my van the entire time. I think it might have been better if P.J. did simply want to butt fuck me. I still would have been able to play those shows at least.

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BOARD ROOM MEETING

BOARD ROOM MEETING

A bunch of business executives are sitting around a large conference room table. Everyone is wearing business attire sitting quietly waiting for the BOSS to come in.

The Boss walks in.

BOSS

Alright people we’ve got a lot to cover. Fourth quarter profits are down and customer complaints are up. The only thing that’s staying the same around here are your ugly faces. We need a change. We need to get with the program. We need ideas and we’re going to stay here all night if we have to in order to get some ideas. Is everyone with me on this?

Everyone is nodding their heads looking around the room nodding to each other. This is a very agreeable group.

BOSS

Alright then, who’s going first? C’mon people, out with the ideas. You. Over there. You have ideas.

Boss is referring to one of the execs. He looks around the room. Obviously he has no ideas.

BOSS

What about you? With the glasses.

Exec wearing a pair of glasses has nothing.

BOSS

You, with the stupid haircut. Yeah, you. Little Miss Stupid Cut. What’cha got for the group? Nothing? Ah, to hell with all of you! Why I outta fire each and ever-

One of the more BRAVE execs decides to speak up before they’re all fired.

BRAVE

We could do some actual work instead of sitting around in these pointless meetings all day.

Everyone in the room is a bit nervous. No one has ever spoken up before. Boss is eyeballing him curiously.

BOSS

What’s your name cowboy?

BRAVE

That’s another thing. You’re always calling everyone these stupid nicknames. How about taking the time to learn our names.

BOSS

(considering)

Names…hmmmm

BRAVE

Yeah, like mine is Peter. Not cowboy, not Buck-O, and certainly not Dick Nose.

BOSS

You were certainly cut from a different rug then these dopes were weren’t you Dick Nose, I mean Peter. I like that. What else do you have.

PETER

Well, for one we could actually talk about what it is we do here instead of just how to improve it. I’ve been with the company six weeks and I haven’t the first clue as to what this place even is.

BOSS

(matter of factly)

We’re business people Peter. This is what we do. We’re sitting in a fancy conference room and we’re all wearing business suits. I’m clearly the Boss and you all are lackey executives. What else is there?

PETER

I don’t know. What if we sold something.

One of the other execs is feeling brave now and decides to speak up.

EXEC 1

We could sell sex. Prostitution is the oldest business.

Everyone begins to discuss the idea of selling sex.

BOSS

What do you think of that Peter? We’re going to start selling sex immediately. Who wants a blowjob? Five dollars.

PETER

No, no, no. Not sex. I meant like, computers or books or medical equipment or anything else. Something that helps the world.

Everyone begins discussing this. Another exec has something to say.

EXEC 2

What if we invented a building that people could visit if they’re hurt or sick then we could make them better?

PETER

You mean a hospital. You want us to all become doctors?

EXEC 2

I bet we could turn a hefty profit.

PETER

We’re not doctors. We’re business people...I think. I know I am. I have a Masters Degree in business. I graduated top on my class. I’m not going to go to medical school!

EXEC 3

We could just lie and say we’re doctors.

EXEC 4

And when they’re not looking take their money and run.

PETER

What the fuck?! No, what is the matter with all of you. I was always under the impression that you were all intelligent people. I thought you were just meek not morons. Don’t any of you know anything about business?

EXEC 3

I know business has the word bus in it. We could be a bus driving business.

PETER

You want us to be bus drivers?

EXEC 1

Yeah! And our slogan could be, “We put the Bus in Business.”

PETER

That doesn’t even make sense. The b-u-s in business is pronounced completely different than the word bus.

BOSS

My grandpappy was a bus driver.

EXEC 2

I used to ride a bus to school.

PETER

Enough with the fucking busses! This city already has a perfectly good transportation system, we aren’t going to be a bus company. Now think, what is something people really need.

BOSS

Air?

EXEC 5

Oh, yeah. We could sell air!

EXEC 2

Yeah, if people wanna breathe, they’ll have to come pay us. We’ll be the only game in town. Just like a cable company!

BOSS

(to Exec 2)

Brilliant! You’re hired!

PETER

Okay, first of all, he already works here. He’s an executive for fuck’s sake. And secondly, you can’t sell air.

EXEC 3

That’s what people used to say about cell phones during World War II, and now everyone has one.

PETER

Cell phones didn’t exist during World War II!

BOSS

This is wonderful! I really feel like we might actually get something accomplished today, thanks to Peter. Now, I’m going to go take a shit and I want you all to keep the conversation going. Peter, I’m putting you in charge.

Boss leaves the room and Peter walks to the head of the table. When he turns around the execs faces don’t quite look the same. They look pissed.

PETER

(noticing the change in demeanor)

Uh, alright everyone. Let’s…

EXEC 1

(interrupting)

Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing?

EXEC 2

Yeah, College Boy. We got a good thing going here and we don’t need you fucking it up.

PETER

I don’t understand.

EXEC 3

Who’s the moron now, huh?

EXEC 1

That old man is crazy as a loon and all we have to do is sit in here with our thumbs up our butts and listen to him bitch and we all get paid. And paid well.

EXEC 2

So start playing ball or we’ll have your ass sent down to the mail room.

EXEC 3

And we’ll have your kids murdered.

EXEC 1

Whoa! Take it easy man. We’re not going to kill his kids.

EXEC 3

(sincerly)

I’m really sorry about that. I thought we were doing a tough guy thing there and I guess I got carried away. I’m really sorry.

Boss comes back into the board room.

BOSS

Yippee, that was a good one. Not too hard, not too soft. Two wipes and done, just the way I like it. Peter what’s wrong my friend. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.

Peter is still standing in front of everyone. He hasn’t had time to process everything yet. He looks over at Exec 1 who gives him a wink and a nod.

PETER

Well sir, we were talking about…

Peter looks over at the Exec again. He’s not sure what he’s suppose to do. The Exec starts mimicking playing a fiddle. Peter is confused.

PETER

(cont)

...selling fiddles. Yeah that’s it. We want to sell honkey tonk fiddles!

All the Execs are pissed. They’re shaking their head “NO!”. Peter is even more confused.

PETER

(cont)

No! Not honkey tonk fiddles, we’re going to sell …

One of the Execs does a little dance thingie with his hands. He’s trying to tell Peter something but he has no clue.

PETER

(cont)

… directing traffic?

All the Execs are pissed and slap their forehead.

PETER

(exploding)

I DON’T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU MEAN!!!

The Boss is shocked by this outburst. He hasn’t seen anything the Execs were doing.

BOSS

Peter, what’s gotten into you?

EXEC 1

(imitating the intercom)

“Sir, your mother is holding on line one”

BOSS

My mother? She’s been dead for 10 years. I better take this one in my office. Excuse me.

Boss leaves the room again.

PETER

What the fuck are you guys doing to me!?

EXEC 1

“Song and Dance” you idiot. Give him the old song and dance. Song (fiddle) and Dance (hand gesture thing they were doing before)

PETER

You’ve got to be kidding me! How was I suppose to get that?

Boss walks back in.

BOSS

She hung up. So what were you saying earlier about this Honking Tank Thimble, Peter? Please tell me more.

All the Execs are doing the “song and dance” for Peter. He gets it this time.

PETER

You know, I was thinking. What do we need to sell stuff for anyway? I mean, we’re business folk right?

The Execs are all smiling and nodding and giving Peter the thumbs up.

PETER

(cont)

We go to meetings and we wear fancy suits and we make that mother fuckin’ money. Am I right?

Boss seems concerned. Peter has flip-flopped on this so quickly.

BOSS

But what about all your ideas with selling stuff? I thought we were on to something.

PETER

No, no, no. Let the common man sell stuff. We’re important people. We’re better than everyone else. We’re rich and they’re not. We’re good and they’re pieces of shit. We’re…

The Execs are giving Peter the “slow it down a little bit parter” look. Peter may have went a bit too far.

PETER

(cont)

...What I mean is; if it ain’t broke don’t fix it.

BOSS

Do you truly mean this Peter?

Peter considers the question. He looks at the Execs and Boss notices he’s looking at the Execs too.

BOSS

(cont)

Why do you keep looking at them? What’s going on here Peter? Have they put you up to this?

Peter’s in a bind. On one hand he wants to be a real business man and sell things that make the world a better place, on the other hand he likes the money he’s making just sitting on his ass with the other execs. He doesn’t know what to do. The execs are all looking like “well, c’mon Peter. Tell him you just want to sit on your ass” but in his heart he knows he just can’t do it.

PETER

Sir, I have to be honest with you. These people are charlatans! They have been using you and your senility for their own benefit. They willingly and knowingly sat on their asses and offered nothing to this company, collecting their fat paychecks, in hopes that one day a Peter Smith doesn’t come along and pull the rug out from under them! Well that day has come you bastards. Peter Smith is here and I will NOT stand by and let you pull my strings one second longer!

Peter is standing there out of breath. That was quite a speech he just made. The Execs are speechless. They’re not sure yet whether they’re fucked or if they can talk their way out of this.

BOSS

(to the Execs)

Is this true?

EXEC 1

(stammering)

Well...uh, not...I mean, well..

EXEC 2

Peter, why would you say such a thing?

PETER

I swear it’s all true. They wanted me to give you the old “song and dance”.

BOSS

They wanted me to eat your underwear?

PETER

No. What? What the hell does “song and dance” mean to you?

EXEC 3

It doesn’t matter Peter. You’ve said enough.

BOSS

That’s right Peter. You have said enough. Before we continue, I just need to know one thing. Do you truly believe in making the world a better place? Should business folk try and help the world instead of just fucking them out of their money and manipulating them into believing they must own a bunch of shit they don’t really need?

PETER

Yes sir, with all my heart.

Peter is standing there, proud as fuck. His dreams of making a difference in the world just might come true after all.

BOSS

Alright, in that case; you’re fired. We don’t need your kind in the business world. Good-bye.

PETER

What!?

BOSS

That’s right. This has all been an elaborate hoax to see what kind of person you really are. I had high hopes for you Peter. You really let us down.

Peter looks over at the other Execs who all are looking at him disappointedly. Peter, with his head down, slowly walks out of the room-but just before he makes it through the doorway he stops. He has one final thing to say to these bastards.

PETER

You haven’t heard the last from Peter Smith! I’m going to start my own company. And I’m going to help people! Do you hear me! I’m going to-

One of the Execs shoots Peter dead.

BOSS

(relieved)

Thank you.

(into the intercom)

Suze, we need a clean-up in the board room. And could you also send in a new Exec. Thanks.

END

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