Mike: i guess i better get back to work. sigh. what can i use? the roads are closed? no, i'm supposed to be reporting that. the dog ate my homework? no, i don't have a dog.
he takes three steps up the muddy embankment and slides off into the shoulder. it's starting to spit again. his butt begins to ring. it's his phone, his private phone.
Mike: i don't need to wipe you off, you're clean.
Goody Paul: wut?
Mike: the screen. i know it's you. flashing cookie.
Goody: buddy, i need to know, is it drizzling or spitting?
Mike: *hand* uh, spitting. but what's the difference?
Goody: okay, that counts as work. you can still be out there with the blue windbreaker. all clear in your area. management's chewing my ass out no biggie. what's going on?
Mike: my car went down the hill. i was lost for awhile.
Goody: i find that hard to believe. you're the human GPS.
Mike: i think i'm gonna have to hoof it. haven't sniffed a bus for miles. need me for anything?
Goody: be my constant companion. oh you mean the station. the mountain buses never attempt to traverse the treacherous mountain curves, too dangerous. steep coast/monastery beach, that's what's indicated on your phone dots. it's cool, your next on-camera spot isn't for another hour. do your usual sneakaway.
Mike: yeah i can't make it. i don't have a cameraman.
Goody: sure you do. your phone. speaking of your private life, you left your work phone here again, i'm in your office staring at it right now.
Mike: don't swivel around on my chair, you're fat.
Goody: i like cookies. just a parting wondering, why are there tons of hardcore pornographic pics of all the ladies who work at this station on your work phone?
Mike: fuck my life. i knew i should have gotten rid of that brick. buddy, my friend, my pal, i'm gonna need you to do me a fat solid...
Goody: you can count on me. but not right now, company's come...
Goody: in 3-2- and here he comes now! up the service elevator. you know we never use the service elevator, too unreliable. reserved for royalty. Dustin Johnson, everyone give him a hand it says on the card.
no one claps. or everyone gives him a golf clap.
Dustin Johnson: still in pain. but my manager said i couldn't cancel.
Goody: you fit right in here with your southern drawl. take a seat. or you can lie on the newsdesk. so Dustin, how did it feel when that 8 foot putt lipped in to win the Masters this year?
Dustin: is this guy for serious? i fell down a flight of stairs man!
Goody: pack your patience. pack your patience, that's what my grandmother always used to teach us. i thought you won. they said it was historic. you didn't sustain that injury celebrating?
Dustin: i can't be mad atcha, man, you got that goofy cookie patch on your vest.
Goody: *calmly* who the fuck are you to convert me to how you worship?
Goody: sorry, i don't watch golf, it's more boring than baseball. i like to surf. we do these publicity stunts to drum up ratings. we are sinking like a skipping stone. we do joint ventures with the History Channel and it's Serra Week on the Island. Holy Week at Majorca. that beautiful natural native Native American spirituality, Catholicism can only dream of such a religion. i'm 1/128th Indian so i feel the pride. it's still a crime what happened.
Goody: and here he comes now! up the stairs! Sergio Garcia! and Jim Nantz? finally a real celebrity.
Jim Nantz: hello friends. our CBS satellites deliver the action to every country except Quebec, Canada.
Dustin: i ain't mad atcha you frijole.
Goody: *reading the cue cards* so Sergio, how does it feel after all this time doubting...
Jim Nantz: i'll take it from here, friend. Sergio, after all that doubt, the demons which swirled around your tiny head year after year of failure, did you ever think you'd wrench yourself from out your angst? you're not good enough, you said so yourself. finally getting it done, how does it feel?
Sergio: pero...i can speak English
Jim Nantz: *with tones* they call it La Carga in your country. lifted...finally...a boy into a man...El Nino transformed like the phoenix into El Hombre with a spit into a golf hole cup...the spitting image of Seve your idol...Seve's birthday...what a coincidence...
Sergio: no it's not. Seve came to me in my bed and asked me why i was stressing so much, i'd get my first Major in no time. see in Heaven there is no time so...
Jim Nantz: please, Sergio. it's a lesson in patience, packing your patience...La Carga....muerte.
Goody: is this cos i'm black? oh btw, Dustin, just a heads up, Mike Manley will fuck your wife...you, too, Sergio, congrats on the engagement, i'd bump up that wedding date cos Mike Manley will fuck your wife, Sergio.
Goody: and now we go to Jackie Bicycle in the West Wing.
Jackie: i don't know why the weather channel is here.
Goody: switch the box on your mic to History Channel, babe.
Jackie: okay. that trip was expensive. so i'm here for a quote from President Bump. sir, sir, care to comment?
President Bump: i don't want to do this job anymore. it's too complicated. not fun. i want to golf. i want to win the Masters. yeah i'm done, i'm done. i didn't think it'd be this hard. this is too much work.
Jackie: sir, any comment on the newest meme blowing up the internet? the one of Codrus in space taking his ball and going home. the ball being the Sun.
Bump: maybe i do, maybe i don't, ask me again when i'm out of a job.
Jackie: see it all comes back to weather. back to you. Mike? what are you doing here?!
Mike: i ran all the way here. you shooting a remote?
Jackie: smoke and mirrors. i'm not really in Washington. all done in the studio.
Goody: we're still live, Jackie...
Jackie: drop shadow.
Mike: yeah, watch the road.
Jackie: no, the graphics.
Mike: *panting profusely* where's the phone?
Goody: gasp not, my friend, Jackie's got it.
Jackie: mmm you lucky, baby boy, i'm a trained woman. i can smell your phone. i know who you've lay with. you cheating on me?
Mike: give it.
Jackie: i am shocked. but i understand you. we get each other. but that girl will pay you no mind.
Mike: wanna bet?
Jackie: no, not her. the waitress.
Jackie: i smell the tequila on your phone. now the other one, well the other one, you love her. but does she love you?
Mike: come on, you still have the pickup. we have a remote to do. you're my cameraman.
Jackie: impromptu like the old days. one more for old times' sake. just to see. don't worry, i won't disappoint you but you won't disappoint her. but first get out of those clothes and into the shower. you're scratching your inside leg like crazy.
Mike: shorts were not meant to hold cum. the studio shower? that thing's got scorpions.
Jackie: small scorpions. they don't bite but i do.
Jackie: oh i love looking at your large naked rump when you're brushing your teeth. the jiggling movement is ancient Greek. join me for butterhorns and Malt-O-Meal on the newsdesk, might as well use that thing for something.
Jackie: this is nice. remember our first date?
Mike: we dated? let's go, the road is rocky.
Jackie: you walked this? omg that is hilarious. it's pitch black, not even the reflectors are reflecting, but you can still see the cock graffiti around the potholes. those are some nice dicks.
Mike: it's dark but that is white. ha! one says ISN'T THIS WHAT TAXES ARE FOR? penis pothole.
Jackie: that was your nickname for me in bed. i am your driver in so many ways.
Mike: please *feet on the dashboard* i can get my own dates.
Jackie: oh yeah? try that Starbucks.
Mike: you're losing your touch. but not me.
Mike gets out and approaches Maria by the door under welllights wrestling with her keys kicking the stand up and locking up for the night.
Mike: poor girl, i'll have to admit that i cheated.
Mike: it's me. remember from before?
Maria: no. the heat is gone. no more steam. I DON'T CARE WHO YOU ARE
Mike: what? i mean. seriously? but how? you don't remember me? i'm not memorable?
Maria: come back in the morning. we're open from 4AM to 8PM every day.
Mike: no wonder you're cranky. why do you have to wake up so early?
Maria: i make coffee for a living. i get up at the asscrack of dawn and make coffee for myself so i can make coffee for others. my boyfriend is a nurse who works the graveayrd shift. we never see each other. you're just another paycheck. that's my bus.
Mike: wow, opportunity for a secret affair and still it's a no. time for my first walk of shame back to the truck.
Mike: i feel like so much compostable trash.
Jackie: i think this means i win the bet. get to it if you want your pants back.
at the house all of the lights go back off just as Ari is on the can. she feels for the toilet-paper roll and slides her finger into the bathroom window to close it. she gets a kick to her face for her poke.
Ari: sorry. is that you, cat? y'know what, it's fine, stay there, stay on the ledge, no one can see us, it's just a little rain, we both must be brave. oh i hurt.
she tries to kiss the cat by blowing air-kisses but ends up sucking on the cat's tail.
she gets on her knees and moves herself from behind like a snake to the edge of her bed where she lifts herself up on her elbows with all her might and plops down over the covers.
Ari makes her own light. she lights a cigarette and begins sporadically burning herself in soft spots on her arm. her husband comes in and she covers up.
Ari: might as well sleep, there's nothing else to do. i suddenly can't walk. my legs are dead.
husband: the kids were hungry again so i went to the general store.
Ari: now that's co-parenting.
husband: the bill came out to $260.
Ari: what the fuck? we don't have that kind of money! oh fuck it. i'd rather drown in food than tears i mean water. bring me the food. or, yeah, bring me the list. why do you need to buy Newman's Own spicy Italian salad dressing when you already got the Caesar kits? another fancy ketchup with the English gentleman with the fancy mustache on the bottle? we still have. four in fact. you really needed to purchase Ripple Milk made from peas? forcemeat? plum chicken? chicken with plums? buffalo shrimp? Svenhard's danish pastries in Exeter, CA?
husband: all profits to charity.
Ari: ha ha ha. hahaha. hee hee hee hee ha ha.
Ari writhes in the bed intermittently in sequences of five minutes. she giggles for no reason, stifles a guffaw like she's thinking about something for a minute, and jerks her body around the bedframe, hitting the springs and making an awkward spring sound.
Jackie drives with her skirt hiked up and her boots on the pedals. she is stroking two sticks. Mike hides his head in shame.
Jackie: lady driven.
Mike sucks on Jackie's massive tits.
Mike: 106 centimeters, i knew it. i was a math minor.
Mike: i can smell the carpeting down here.
Jackie: boost my head.
Mike has been licking Jackie's old pruney shaved vagina for an hour.
Jackie: hold on, baby boy!
the truck suddenly turns over in a violent gust of wind to its side with a large crunch down the same hill. before he knows it Mike is munching on leaves. he spits it out and uses his hands to squeeze the air. he reaches for his butt but the flashlight is dead. he lights up a cigarette and senses a presence.
Mike: i can feel you, monster big as the mountain. what do you want? who are you? i fear no beast. my father hunted wild elephants in Africa.
a bellowing bellicose voice shakes the atmosphere, piercing the night mist like a machine gun.
the voice: YOU DADDY DUMB