Tag: Mad Dog

SCRIPT: Mad Dog’s Associations

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INT: BLOODY MARY’S BAR – DAY

Mad Dog is sitting at the end of the bar having a drink when Sam comes over to wash the dishes.

Mad Dog: So… about that Super Bowl Party…

Sam: Oh sorry, Pup, but you’re not allowed to come anymore.

Mad Dog: Why not?

Sam: Because of your “associations.”

Mad Dog: Associations? What associations?

Sam: You know… your associations.

Mad Dog gives Sam a weird look and thinks it over for a moment. Finally, he has a realization.

Mad Dog: It was Billy the Biker Guy, wasn’t it?

Sam: What?

Mad Dog: I used to roll with the Bandidos, you know. That was back when I went to Barber College in Sioux City.

Sam: Um… no. Your other associations.

Mad Dog: [thinks it over again] Oh, you mean Doug. Doug the Drug Dealer. I used to sell mattresses for him back in the day. He still owes me money.

Sam: No.

Mad Dog: It was that damn Indian, wasn’t it? Joe Three Deer! He’s always getting me into trouble. He’s the reason I’ll never go back to the Rez. It’s been thirty years and he’s still trying to kill me!

Sam: No, no, no. I meant your OTHER associations.

Mad Dog: Ohhhh… now I see. It was that set of blonde twins I married in Vegas.

Sam: What?

Mad Dog: Yeah, they were my cousins.

Sam: Huh?

Mad Dog: It was a fast wedding.

Sam: Uhhh… no.

Mad Dog: Well then, I have no idea who you’re talking about.

Sam: I’m talking about Betsey. Betsey Horton. The Writer Extraordinaire. You’re guilty by association. Therefore, you’re disinvited to the party. I don’t want you passing information to her about what goes on here, which is a really dumb thing to say because literally nothing is going on here at all. I know that because I’m bored. So bored. So, so, so, so, so bored. That’s why I’m using you to start this shit with her again. Because I’m bored.

Mad Dog: Really?

Sam: Yeah, really.

Mad Dog: [staring at him in disbelief] We don’t talk about you like that.

Sam: It doesn’t matter. You’re guilty by association. Also, I am bored. Did I mention the fact that I’m bored? Because I am really bored.

Mad Dog gives Sam the once over and shakes his head. Then he finishes his drink and gets up to leave.

Mad Dog: You know, this bar used to be a really great place. Now it’s just a bunch of fucking yuppies.

Mad Dog leaves the bar and wanders over to Betsey’s house, where he finds her writing about a bunch of people who have nothing to do with South Dakota at all.

Mad Dog: You’re not gonna believe what just happened to me at Bloody Mary’s.

Betsey: Let me guess. Someone was a douchebag to you because you have the nerve to be seen out in public with me.

Mad Dog: Yeah.

Betsey rolls her eyes, yawns, and goes back to her writing.

Betsey: Well, if they don’t want me writing about them like they’re a bunch of petty assholes, then they should really stop acting like a bunch of petty assholes. Maybe try apologizing instead?

Mad Dog: Ehhh… fuck ’em. Let’s go to a dive bar in some random small town nearby. I’ll introduce you to some real people.

Betsey: I’m already there, fam.

They hop in the car and drive over the bridge to Nebraska.

The End

SCRIPT: The Untimely Death of Betsey Horton, Writer Extraordinaire

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Betsey is sitting at the bar with Mad Dog when they get into an argument. Betsey is annoyed so she gets up and decides to move over to the opposite end of the bar where The Line of Death usually sits.

Betsey: Oh, woe is me! I really am an old lady now! I’m on the Line of Death and everything!

Howard Hughes looks at her as if she has just uttered the most offensive, scandalous thing he’s ever heard.

Howard Hughes: Just who the hell does this girl think she is?

Betsey: The Line of Death, The Line of Death. What does it really mean to be on The Line of Death? Let me think about it for a moment. Hmm… you know, if I could pick a way to die, it would be eaten by lions while on safari. Why? Because it would make an awesome story, of course!

Howard Hughes: What did she just say?

Betsey: Just think! Everybody would be talking about it for weeks! Months! Years! Maybe even centuries! Yeah, centuries!

Howard Hughes is rendered completely speechless. Andrew smiles at Betsey and sighs dreamily. She winks at him and he winks back. They both know exactly what the other is thinking. Betsey gets up and leaves for the day. When she isn’t seen or heard from in a couple weeks, everyone starts to get worried.

Duke: Not that I really care or anything, but has anyone seen Betsey lately? I noticed she hasn’t been around. Not that I was looking, of course. I only noticed she was gone because it seemed a lot… quieter… around here than usual.

Andrew stands over the cash register and smirks to himself as he rubs his hands together mischeviously. At long last, the opportunity he has been waiting for has arrived. He turns around and puts a solemn look on his face.

Andrew: Yeah, didn’t you hear? Betsey Horton died!

Duke: What? How?

Andrew: She was eaten by lions!

Duke: Oh come on, Andrew. Don’t put us on.

Andrew: No, it’s true, it’s true. I was there! I saw the whole thing! It was awful! There was blood everywhere!

Duke: That doesn’t make any sense. How was she eaten by lions?

Andrew: She was on safari and she got too close to the lions so they ate her. I mean, they really just ripped her apart. At the end the hyenas came in. Once they were done, the vultures picked her off. Then all the the flies came and laid their eggs. It was super gross. There were maggots crawling all over the place. Then her body decomposed and became the grass. And then the antelope ate the grass and the lions ate the antelope.

Duke: What?

Andrew: Yeah. But like, that’s just nature, you know? The Circle of Life and all that. Yeah, I learned about it when I watched The Lion King with my daughter. It was so deep, you guys. It really affected me a lot and just, like, changed my whole perspective on things. It’s sad that she died, but she always wanted to go on safari, and she did say she would choose to be eaten by lions, so I mean, at least she lived her dream. How many of you can say you died living your dream? No one, because we’re all still sitting here alive. Think about that.

Everyone in the bar stares at Andrew in shock. They believe him. They actually, really, truly, deeply in their hearts believe him. They all sit there in silence looking super sad. Nobody knows what to say. Suddenly, Howard Hughes steps up to the plate. He buys everyone in the bar a shot of LaRue.

Howard Hughes: I say we make a toast to Betsey Horton, Writer Extraordinaire! To the bravest woman on The Line of Death!

Everyone in the bar drinks. There’s a moment of silence. Duke looks absolutely torn apart.

Andrew: What is it, Duke?

Duke: I just feel so guilty! I made up all these lies about her and told them to anyone who would listen. I was so mean to her all the time! But really she wasn’t so bad all along. I wish she was here now to wake me from my slumber with her loud, obnoxious laugh.

Andrew: Aww, that’s very sweet of you, Duke. I’m sure if Betsey was here right now, she would appreciate the sentiment.

Mad Dog: Oh will you guys just shut the hell up already? You’re nothin’ but a bunch of cry babies! Hey bartender, get me another beer, would ya?!

Andrew: Don’t you have anything nice to say, Mad Dog? Betsey was your friend!

Mad Dog: Meh. I’m no good at this stuff. I’d rather just drink a beer and smoke a joint instead.

Andrew: Fair enough. I can’t say Betsey would disagree with you there.

Suddenly, Betsey Horton walks into the bar, completely alive and 100% intact. Everyone turns around and stares at her in shock. They look like they’ve all just seen a ghost.

Betsey: What are you guys staring at? Is there something on my dress?

Everyone turns back around and looks Andrew with severely annoyed expressions on their face. Duke looks the angriest of them all.

Andrew: Uh… Hey guys. What’s up?

They promptly rip him to shreds like he’s Scar after the hyenas turn on him.

The End

STORY: The Legend of Chico

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One not-so-ordinary day, I was sitting at Bloody Mary’s Bar talking to Mad Dog when suddenly, he mentioned a character by the name of Chico.

“Wait, wait,” I said, lifting my hand to interrupt him. “Stop right there. Who the hell is Chico?”

Mad Dog looked at me with one eyebrow raised.

“You wanna know about Chico?” he asked slowly. “I’ll tell you about Chico. Chico used to be the Owner of Bloody Mary’s Bar.”

“What?!” I exclaimed. “Really?”

“That’s right,” Mad Dog said. “Chico was one of the shadiest guys in town. He was Greek. You know how Greeks are. They’re like Jews. They’re nothing by liars and thieves.”

I let out a heavy sigh and gave Mad Dog a Look.

“Can we please refrain from making offensive generalizations about different ethnicities and perpetuating racist stereotypes?”

Mad Dog looked at me as if I had just spoken to him in a foreign language. He looked my face over carefully.

“Yeah, now I see it,” he said. “You got a little bit of something in you. Are you Jewish or are you Greek?”

“I’m a Citizen of the World,” I said proudly. “I’ve got a little bit of everyone in me.”

Mad Dog shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“Anyway,” he said. “About Chico. He was one shady guy. Not the kind of person you want to mess around with. One thing’s for certain, though. He sure did know how to get the job done.”

I opened up my notebook and started taking notes immediately. Mad Dog looked off into the distance nostalgically and began telling me the story.

“It was bar against bar. A race to the top. Chico screwed over a lot of people to get there. A lot of people were after him. He owed money all around town. He owed so much money, they even put a price on his head. There were Wanted Posters everywhere. Then one day, Chico disappeared. Just up and left town without telling a soul. No one knew where he was. There were plenty of theories, of course. Most people say he’s still hiding out back home in Greece. Anyway, a couple of months later, Chico was found dead in a canyon somewhere in Colorado, half-eaten by wolves. No one knows if it was a murder or a suicide.”

Mad Dog paused as if to say “The End.” I stared at him wide-eyed for some time before I finally managed to snap out of it.

“That’s it?” I asked.

“That’s it.”

I stared at him with my mouth wide open.

“You’re telling me the Former Owner of Bloody Mary’s Bar was found dead in a random canyon somewhere half-eaten by wolves?”

Mad Dog nodded.

“That’s right,” he said again.

I shook my head in disbelief.

“Seven years!” I exclaimed. “Seven years I’ve lived here and nobody ever told me this story? You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!”

Mad Dog looked over at me and smiled.

“You really are a writer, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Of course I am,” I said. “Why else would I follow you around?”

He smiled at me again.

“So,” I said. “Who do I have to talk to around here to find out more about this Chico character?”

“Oh,” Mad Dog said, shaking his head. “You don’t just go around asking questions about Chico. Nobody in this town is going to talk to you about Chico.”

“But I thought you said Chico was dead.”

“It doesn’t matter!” he snapped. “You can’t just go around asking questions about Chico.”

“Okay,” I said. “But I’m just letting you know right now, the next time I come back here, I’m going to start asking questions about Chico.”

“Good luck,” said Mad Dog. “No one in this town in going to talk to you about Chico.”

The next time I went to Bloody Mary’s Bar, I decided to start asking questions about Chico.

“So…” I said pleasantly, cozying up to the Line of Death after another successful round of Jeopardy. “Did any of you guys ever know a character by the name of Chico?”

All of the old men in the room gave me the same look at once.

“Who wants to know?” one of them asked suspiciously.

“Oh, I’m just a writer,” I said. “I like to write about Bloody Mary’s Bar. I heard a story about Chico and I thought he sounded like an interesting character. It’s not every day you hear a story about someone who was found dead in a canyon somewhere half-eaten by wolves. I’m interested in hearing the rest of the story.”

All of the old men glared at me again.

“Oh, you’re a writer huh?” another asked. “Sounds more like a Troublemaker to me.”

“Yeah,” said another. “What makes you think you can just come in here and start asking questions about Chico?”

“Sounds to me like you need to learn how to mind your own business,” chimed in the last.

I was caught off-guard by their reaction. I had no idea it was such a big deal to start asking questions about Chico.

“I’m sorry,” I said politely. “I was under the impression that Chico was deceased.”

“I don’t know about that,” said PJ. “If there was ever a person I knew in my life who would fake his own death to get out of some trouble he was in, it was Chico.”

“You knew Chico?” I asked with a dazzled look in my eyes.

“Oh yes,” he said. “Many years ago. He was very good to me. He always treated me fair. I was sad to see him go. Then again, you never know. I went to the funeral. They never opened the coffin. I still like to think he’s over in Greece with his family, relaxing on a beach somewhere eating a delicious gyro.”

I smiled at him.

“I think that’s how I prefer the story to end,” I said.

“Me too,” said PJ.

All of us sat together in silence for a minute. Finally, PJ went back to the bar and I went back back to Mad Dog.

“See?” said Mad Dog. “I told you. Nobody in this town is going to say a goddamn word to you about Chico.”

The End

Overheard at Bloody Mary’s Bar

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One of my favourite things about being a writer is my collection of quotes. I have been collecting them since I was in high school. The following is a collection of quotes taken from my favourite bar, Bloody Mary’s. I have mined them from several notebooks I’ve used over the last three years. Some are attributed, while others are not. I hope you enjoy the show!

Mad Dog: This place sucks. Let’s go to Cleo’s.
Me: Ugh, why on Earth would anyone ever want to go to Cleo’s?
Mad Dog: The beer here is too expensive.
Me: It’s not expensive compared to a city. Besides, you’re not paying for the beer. You’re paying for the Bloody Mary’s Bar Experience™.
Mad Dog: What’s that? Sitting at the bar alone while everyone else in the room judges you?
Me: I see what you’re saying, but why sit at the bar when you can go outside and sit on the patio?
Mad Dog: You got on me on that one right there.

“What is it? The 1800’s?”
“Well, it is South Dakota.”

“Are you finished?”
“Yeah, I’m Finnish. Just kidding! I’m Polish.”

“He’s the Cornelius Vanderbilt of Social Security.”
“What does that even mean?”

“I keep my house emasculate.”

“If you’re seen slow dancin’ with him, it’ll ruin your reputation.”

“My couch may pull out, but I don’t.”

“I took so many pictures last night, I had to delete some apps to make room for them all.”

“I gave up Catholicism for Lent… five years ago.”

“Do you think we’ll ever make it back out to the Hills alive?”
“You two sound like a couple of old cowboys.”
“We are a couple of old cowboys.”

Mad Dog: Let me tell you a story about that guy sitting right over there. That guy was hired to kill me. He tried everything. He even tried to run me over with his car. Finally, he realized, he can’t kill me. I’m invincible.

Mad Dog: Andrew used to be a fun guy. Always surrounded by women! Women everywhere! He was nice until he became–
Andrew: A Capitalist?

“Sioux Falls is like a suburb without a city.”

Mad Dog: In a few years, you can retire. Upgrade to Executive Level. Become a traveling bartender. You know… Ski Slope Mama.
Andrew: Ski Slope Mama???

Mad Dog: [points to my phone] Can you find me a list of everyone who’s currently in jail?

“George W. Bush definitely has Jedi Powers. Did you see him dodge those shoes? Normal people can’t do that.”

Andrew: I went to Prom Dinner at Al’s Oasis.
Me: You went to Prom Dinner at The Taxidermy Capital of the World?!
Andrew: What? It’s a nice place. It’s the nicest place in town!
Me: [horrified stare]

“You’re not a real Catholic until you’ve had an exorcism.”

“It’s always been one of my dreams to pop an eye out.”

“I would never never teach Sylvia Plath, just because I would never want to be implicated in someone’s suicide.”

“The other day I was just driving along and everything was so idyllic, you know? And then I thought… I might die here.”

“I’m not gay, but I’ve got a huge guy crush on Steve McQueen!”

“I worked in a slaughter house once. I lasted a day. Not because I was against it, but because it was too far away.”

Tattoo Guy: There’s nobody real in this bar tonight. Everyone is just an actor playing their part on the stage of life. It’s all so fake and meaningless.
Me: Wow, TG, that’s actually really deep and insightful. I’m totally going to write that one down in my notebook.

Me: Oh, like Fixer-Upper?
Andrew’s Mom: More like… Burner-Downer!

“He’s ex-military.”
“Oh, so it’s his job to be an asshole.”
“Yeah, old ex-military is the worst.”

“It’s hot. I’m hungry. They’re 18. Let’s go.”

Me: [barging into Bloody Mary’s right at opening] Is there something going on here that I should know about?!
PJ: Uhh… there’s an employee meeting at five?

“Oh, you made multiple mistakes tonight? Welcome to Bloody Mary’s Bar.”

“Here, you smoke this while I go get a drink.”

“It’s not a real 21st birthday if you don’t end up in a jail cell.”

“They call him Smoke Manning.”

“It’s not Betsey. I would have heard her.”

“I literally have a Masters degree in figuring people out and I don’t understand what’s going on with men.”

Some Rando Who Just Got Out of Jail: This town is bizarre. It’s like I’m trapped in some kind of movie.

“I looked out my window and it was like a time warp.”

“I thought it’d be a dirty old cattle town, but it was actually a nice, clean place.”

“They call him Shithouse Dan. He’s from Texas. We wrote a song about him.”

Townie: [to Andrew] You’re better in real life.

Me: Owl, when did we find out who Edward Snowden was?
Owl: June 5th, 2013. Wait, who is we? Do you mean me, or everybody else?

Mad Dog: Did you get married?
Townie: Yes.
Mad Dog: [shakes his head and rolls his eyes] Another Idiot.
[All the married men in the room laugh. Andrew laughs the loudest.]

“My only plan in life is not to have a plan.”

“Smokin’ dope and runnin’ porn.”
“Sounds like the life.”

Mad Dog: Why aren’t you out there stealing Trump signs? That’s where all the money is!

“Can I get you something?”
“A new life.”

“I’m gonna squeeze it like it’s a chicken’s neck.”

“I don’t want to pee or piss all over your place of business.”

“So you’re mad at me because I have too many opinions?”
“Yes.”

[introducing me to someone new]
“This is the woman who owns my soul.”

“With all the money I handle, I probably have the immune system of a cockroach.”

“Sorry I’m not all smiles today!”

“What’s the matter? Why do you have that look on your face? Haven’t you ever smoked weed out of a giant plastic bag before?”
“No!”

“I love Star Wars!”
“Who doesn’t? [long pause] Fascists.”

“I don’t necessarily have the nicest wiener.”

“I don’t think you realize that when a jackal gets hungry, it eats.”

“I’m not saying you’re my Rosaline. You might be Juliet!”

“I’m immune to the charms of most men.”

“This song really pushes the boundaries of what it means to be music.”

Me: [comes in a cowboy-like getup]
Bartender: Why are you dressed like that?
Me: This is how South Dakota people dress.
Bartender: I’ve never seen a South Dakotan dressed like that.

“You ever look at people and think, wow, drugs are bad? Well, these are the kind of people you look at and think, wow, drugs are magic!”

“I feel like we all have pieces of the same story.”

Artist Kid: [comes in wearing a vintage leather jacket] On a scale of 1-10, how Kyle is this jacket?

“And then the evil villain mastermind sent his henchmen to spy on me.”

“My stripper name is Diamond.”

Mad Dog: [randomly, out of nowhere] Have you ever met the Hershey’s Chocolate Family?
Me: What?
Mad Dog: Hershey’s… like the chocolate.
Me: What?
Mad Dog: They’re from Germany.

Mad Dog: [talking and talking] You got all this down?

Me: I’m hungry.
Date for the Evening: Me too.
Me: Let’s go get R-Pi.
Date: No way. Can’t do it. [long and calculating pause] That would absolutely destroy my calorie count for the day.

“There’s an awful lot of ass-fucking going on around here.”
“Well, it is South Dakota.”

Mad Dog: Every day is Halloween.

“My mother always used to say that if you gotta go, you say you gotta water the lilies.”

Me: I’m gonna go watch Andrew paint the awning.
Mad Dog: Me too! I hope he’s wearing his tight little shorts.
Me: [excitedly] Me too!

“Haven’t you ever gotten naked and rolled around in paint before?”

“He lived in his house for eight years and only cleaned his bathroom once. He is The Most Interesting Man in the World.”

Mad Dog: Andrew, you’re the only person in this world that I like.

Mad Dog: Garden Gnomes are my favourite animal.

“I made a beer bong out of a flamingo lawn ornament in college. We called it The Flabongo.”

Mad Dog: You know the only reason why I like baseball?
Me: Why?
Mad Dog: Because it was the only thing they let us watch in study hall.

“Take your work seriously, but not your life.”

“I’m not thinking right now. I’m just talking.”

“Winter is for getting drunk and pissing all over yourself.”

“Sorry I wasn’t smiling at 7am!”

“I’m not really a joke person. I’m more like an anecdote kind of person.”

“Do you live out in the country?”
“No, I live on Jefferson Street.”

“You know you’ve hit a low point in life when you’re getting into a fistfight over a 30-pack of Keystone Light.”

“I’ll have a water with no ice, please.”

Rando from SoMD: I hope you put Southern Maryland on the map.
Me: Be careful what you wish for.

“Welcome to Bloody Mary’s International. The Owl is flying. Jester can check the luggage. He’s not allowed near the bar anymore after mixing this terrible drink.”

“You’re just like my pinky toe. You’re cute and little and I’m probably going to bang you on the table later tonight.”

Mad Dog: [catches me sitting on the bench outside of Bloody Mary’s] Well, well, well… look who I found sitting out on the streets of Paris.

“All I know about the Illuminati is that they’re on the dollar bill.”

“Oh my god! There’s not enough brains in all three of them to make one!”

“I’m sure I’ll see you all much sooner than I want to.”

“I worked at that gas station before it was a Casey’s.”

“I’ll have the cheapest beer you have.”

Me: I was actually supposed to meet somebody important here tonight.
Mad Dog: Was it me? I’m the only person who’s important here.

Me: That was fun.
Mad Dog: Not as fun as watching a sunset.

Mad Dog: Hey Andrew! Are you ready to go to the strip club now?
Andrew: [dead serious] Yes.

Mad Dog: And that was the first time I saw a really nice set of titties.
Me: The End.

SCRIPT: The Mural On The Wall

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Betsey is sitting out on the patio of Bloody Mary’s writing in her notebook. Suddenly, a group of men come along and start getting ideas.

Andrew: I’m thinking about painting a mural right here. I have a vision in my head.

Guys: Tell us, Andrew! You’re soooooooo Great. We love you soooooo much!

Andrew: Thank you, thank you. What can I say? I am a pretty Great guy.

Guys: Tell us your vision, Andrew!

Andrew: It should be a mural of a Sexy Serving Slut!

Guys: That’s a Great idea, Andrew! Wow, you’re sooooooo Great.

Betsey: Seriously?

Andrew: She can be serving PBR! I can get the company to pay for it. I’m all about that corporate sponsorship. I get to take a little bit off the top for myself.

Betsey: Is that how you do it?

Andrew: Yes.

Guys: We don’t even care! We live to serve you, Andrew! We think you’re sooooooo Great. We all just want to be you.

Andrew: Thank you, thank you.

Betsey: Wait a second. You’re telling me you want to paint a mural of a beautiful woman serving drinks on that wall?

All the guys get hearts in their eyes and boners in their pants. They sigh dreamily together.

Guys: Yes…

Betsey: Umm… I mean… there aren’t really a whole lot of women who work here, so. Yeah. That’s not really an accurate depiction of what’s going on here. If anyone’s a Sexy Serving Slut, it’s Andrew. He can be the model!

Andrew: [shyly] You really think so?

Betsey: I know so.

Andrew: Well, thank you, but I don’t know if I have time to pose for a mural. I’m just so busy being Great all the time.

Betsey: That’s okay. You can just get Teen Angel to do it.

Teen Angel: [stands up and pumps his fist in the air] Yes!!!

Betsey: [singing softly] Started from the bottom, now we here…

Teen Angel: That’s what I’m saying!

Andrew: Okay, well let’s get this local artist who specializes in painting signs to do it.

The Artist comes in for a consultation. He leers at Betsey and asks him to model for her. She goes to his studio and discovers he is a creepy, predatory, perverted individual who likes 13 year old girls. His wife is in on the whole thing.

The Artist makes Betsey like a cheap whore. She leaves his studio and never goes back ever again. She comes to Bloody Mary’s and drinks for the rest of the day. She gives the dirty money to PJ just because she doesn’t want it in her hands.

Betsey suddenly realizes she drove out to this man’s farm out in the middle of nowhere all alone. Mad Dog says he should have gone with her. She feels sick to her stomach. Who knows what could have happened to her out there?

The Artist and Andrew sit down together for the consultation.

Andrew: This is my vision.

The Artist sketches Andrew’s vision right in front of his eyes. He is amazed and inspired.

Andrew: That looks Great! That’s exactly what I want!

The Artist: Okay, I can do that. That’ll cost you $1500.

Andrew: What?! Are you fucking kidding me? No way!

The Artist: I can do a smaller, less elaborate sign for less.

Andrew: What if it was just the PBR logo?

The Artist: It’s still going to cost you a lot. I’m a specialist. My time and talents are valuable.

Andrew: Okay, let me think about it.

The Artist leaves. Betsey writes a note to Andrew explaining what happened to her. He gets really upset and they get into a huge argument in the middle of the bar on Friday afternoon.

Andrew: You’re too opinionated! Why can’t you just keep your mouth shut?

Betsey: You don’t understand! That’s not who I am! That’s not where I’m from! I’m from Washington, D.C. There was a terrorist attack there when I was 13 years old! My Family knew people who died! I saw the ruins two days after it happened! If you see something, you say something. People’s lives are at stake here, Andrew! I can’t just not say something!

Andrew: I have feelings for you.

Betsey: What?

Andrew: I have feelings for you. I’m married.

Betsey: I have feelings for you. You’re married.

Andrew: What do we do now?

Betsey: I don’t know.

Betsey leaves and tries to avoid him for awhile. It doesn’t work. It only makes everything worse. She comes back to the bar when he’s not there. She is still extremely bothered by the sign issue. She looks around the patio and has a sudden realization. She walks up to Andrew and taps him on the shoulder.

Andrew: What?

Betsey: About the sign…

Andrew: Yes?

Betsey: Why don’t you just take the one hanging above the awning and hang it up on the wall? What’s it doing all the way up there anyway? No one can really see it. It should be hanging on the wall.

Andrew mouth drops wide open. He stands there looking at her in shock.

Betsey: You never even thought of that, did you?

Andrew: No.

Betsey: [shakes her head in disbelief] This is why you need more women around the place.

Andrew: I know.

Betsey: I just saved you $1500 and needless association with a creepy pervert. What are you going to do now?

Andrew: I’m going to Disney World!

The End

STORY: A Breath of Fresh Air

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I look up from my notebook just in time to notice the little green snake slithering toward me.

“My, my, haven’t we been working hard today?”

“So it would seem. I am a professional writer, you know. I don’t have time to just sit around all day. I’m very busy and important.”

“You’ve been working all day. Why not take a break? Relax out on my patio? Have a drink?”

“You just want me to write another story about you. That’s hardly a break.”

“I disagree,” hisses the snake. “Writing about me is a far more relaxing experience than writing about a bunch of silly old prostitutes.”

“They’re not silly,” I say. “Don’t diminish them just because you disagree with what they do. You’re not so different from one yourself. And writing about you is nowhere near as relaxing as you think. It’s actually quite stressful.”

The snake looks into my eyes hypnotically.

“Write me a story, Betsey. Please?”

“Well…” I hesitate at first, but I cannot resist him for long. “All right, if you really want one, I suppose I have just the story to satiate you. It’s about a sexy snake who lures an unsuspecting writer into his nest.”

“Sounds spectacular,” says the snake, slithering off the desk. He transforms into a handsome, young Emperor with beautiful blue eyes sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“You may tell it to me now,” he says with some authority in his voice.

“Whatever you say, Your Majesty.”

I drape myself comfortably across the chair and begin to pen the tale.

$$$

One afternoon, I was seated comfortably on the bench outside of Bloody Mary’s Bar. The wi-fi in my apartment had recently gone out, so I decided to steal it from my favourite and most-frequented bar instead. I figured I’d spent enough money there over the years to justify it.

Unfortunately, right at the moment, I looked up from my phone to see the handsome, young owner heading straight for me. Just my luck. He caught me stealing his internet from him… again.

“Hey Betsey,” he said with that sneaky smile on his face. “What are you up to today?”

“Oh nothing,” I said. “Nothing at all. I definitely wasn’t sitting here stealing your internet, if that’s what you mean.”

“Why don’t you come inside?” he asked. “Take a break. Relax on the patio. Have a drink.”

I looked him up and down once before my eyes finally settled on his left ring finger. Reality hit me like a ton of bricks again.

“No thanks,” I said. “I’ve got other plans today.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, once again catching my gaze in his. I could feel his beautiful blue eyes hypnotizing me. He gave me a winning smile as he opened the door. He closed his eyes as the cool blast of A/C hit his face. He ran his fingers through his hair and shook his mane out in the breeze. He stood there for just a moment, posing for me as if he were a model. I even noticed him lift the corner of his shirt up just a little bit.

“It sure is hot outside,” he said seductively. “You sure you don’t want to cool down with something refreshing to drink?”

I covered up my gaping mouth just in time to catch the drool.

“Uhhh…” I stumbled over myself searching for words. “Well… I guess… when you put it that way… how much could one look really hurt? I mean drink. One drink. Yeah. That’s right. I’m an alcoholic and I come here to drink.”

Andrew held the door open for me with a wide smile on his face. It wasn’t until much later that I realized I had been robbed completely blind. The worst part was, I didn’t even care. As far as I could tell, it was worth every penny.

$$$

The Emperor smiles at me and claps his hands.

“That was a good one,” he says.

“Thank you,” I reply. “I wrote it just for you.”

“Just for me?”

“Just for you.”

“But why?” he asks softly.

“Because,” I say, once again stealing a line from our mutual friend, “You’re the only person in this world that I like.”

“Thank you,” he says.

“You’re welcome.”

The End