Thursday, June 30, 2011

Scene 20 - The Bet

Scene 20

Int. Night. The tunnel beneath the pirate hideout.

Squire Moore: Ah yes, that interruption has been dealt with. Now, finally, the narrative can continue.
Lord Fannyweather: Oh no. The screen's going blurry. I think you're having a flashback.
Squire: Oh fiddlesticks. This shit is whack yo.

The Screen goes blurry. Cut to New York circa 1946. Interior. Night. Corporal Squire Moore, Liutenant Dorian Mammeri and Scrotum Private (-32nd Class) Miguel Sanchez, three young and dashing G.Is, are returning from the war and are on the prowl in a swanky Manhattan nightclub. As they have had no sex for two years due to imprisonment in a German P.O.W camp (operated by the noted Nazi war criminal Von Knutstrom) their balls are swollen with repressed lust.

Squire Moore: My balls sure are swollen with repressed lust.
Miguel Sanchez: Too right buddy. I ain't had no sex since I ain't known no what now not ever 1941 dang Germans.
Dorian: Damn skippy buddy. What's the rhumpus here?
Squire: Get on the trolley Dorian. We're looking for a few Dames to take surfing up the river Intercourse.
Dorian: What say we make this a little . . . interesting?
Miguel: Spill the beans daddio.
Dorian: Hopefully I will, later on tonight (note: innuendo) but how bout a little bet?
Squire: What's the rhumpus Dorian?
Dorian: The first one of us drugstore cowboys to get a dame back to our place wins 20 dollars.
Miguel: Now you're on the trolley! I'm down with that.
Squire: Dorian, you pagan Saracen. I wouldn't do anything so churlish.

A passing gentleman with a fashionable goatee interrupts

Gentleman: I'm willing to put some moolah on the young Squire here. Despite his resemblance to the Canadian mountain vole or, indeed, the more common Southern Desert vole, and his off-putting furtive behaviour, I can see that he has a certain charm.

The gentleman places his money on the table and vanishes into the night.

Dorian: Excellent. Let's see. It's 8 o'clock now. I reckon this should take less than an hour.

Three weeks later. The bet is still standing, Miguel Sanchez resorts to cheating by spiking his opponent's hooch with the drug 'Fannycol', turning them into fannies. Once again they return to the same joint and order some giggle water. Dorian spies a saucy little hoochy mama.

Dorian: Woah fellas. Check out the gams on that broad!
Squire: Is she french?
Dorian: Er, does it matter?
Squire grabs Dorian roughly by his swollen balls
Squire: Of course it fucking matters! I can only fuck women who are French or from a former French colony as a result of a gyspsy curse placed on me many years ago!
Dorian: Oh yes I forgot. I think she's French canadian. Does that count?
Squire: It fucking better. I'll let you have first go though.
Dorian: Okay....Here I go...Walking over any minute now....On my way
Dorian remains exactly where he is.
Miguel: What are you doing guys? You can't just go up to a broad and start flapping your gums. That's illegal. She has to be wearing blue socks and standing next to the bar at a 93 degree angle.
Dorian: Horsepoop. I'm going over.
Squire: WAIT! STOOOOOOOOOOOOP!
Dorian: Why?
Squire: I'll feel bad for not going over if you do.
Dorian: Bullshit infidel. I'm gonna...Wait, where's she gone?
The broad has turned into a butterfly and escaped through an open window.
Dorian: Bugger. My swollen balls are not impressed. Where's Miguel gone?
Miguel has an amateurish approximation of sex with a young lady wearing blue socks and standing at a 93 degree angle to the bar.
Squire: Oh god damn it.
Dorian's balls explode with frustration.

Cut back to the pirate tunnel in the present day.

Squire: And that's why I have never since passed up an opportunity for sex no matter how inconvenient or ill-advised.

Writer's note: The character of 'Passing Gentleman' should be played by either Michael Fassbender or Johnny Depp for the purposes of realism.