Michael enters the apartment. Toby, his roommate, watches TV in between munching on carrot sticks and measuring baggies of marijuana to sell.
Michael: Fuck, dude. . .fuck.
Toby: Mikey, man. You are home so early.
Michael: What’re you doing?
Toby: You know what I’m doing.
Michael: Carrot sticks?
Toby: Man, I’m trying to get a little healthy. Com’on! (pause) What’s with you? Watch the show it’s hilarious!
Michael: Give me one of those. I gotta role a joint.
Toby: What did I tell you about eating the goods? Have a carrot-
Michael: Carrots make me sick now.
Toby: Don’t touch the weed. Asshole.
Michael: (Silence.)
Toby: Lighten up, Christ.
Michael: (Silence.)
Toby: Christ, get over yourself, what’s going on?
Michael: You’d never fucking believe this. . .she’s. . .she’s-
Toby: Who . . . Janet?
Michael: Yeah. . .Janet. She’s retarded.
Toby: Why what’d she do?
Michael: She didn’t do anything!
Toby: What are you talking about?
Michael: Fuck. . .here. Here. Here’s some money. I need this now.
Toby: That’s a dime bag, it’s twenty bucks. (checking the bills) A ten? Ten fucking dollars?
Michael: (rolling the joint) I just wanna get high.
Toby: Yeah, don’t we all. You’re gonna give me another ten.
Michael: FUCK!
Toby: Janet. . .Janet Windover. What’d she do? Did you fucking get her pregnant?
Michael: I hope not. (He lights the joint and takes a big hit.)
Toby: Look at you rabbit fingers. You deserve a fucking carrot.
Michael: Janet’s dumb. She has down-syndrome.
Toby: Shut the fuck-up, bro.
Michael: No, lie.
Toby: So? So? Where does that leave us?
Michael: Where? It leaves me with a lot of thinking to do.
Toby: I said us.
Michael: I meant me.
Toby: (laughs) Getting cold feet, huh? They say that’s typical.
Michael: Let me smoke in piece.
Toby: (grabbing Michael by the collar) Look, buddy. Let’s get one thing straight. There’s no reason for cold feet.
Michael: Maybe.
Toby: No, not maybe. You will or-
Michael: (shaking loose, forcing Toby to drop his carrot sticks) OR what?
Toby: Fuck. Look what you made me do.
Michael: Look what you are making me do.
Toby: (swiping them off the ground and going to the sink) They’re still good. Just have to wash them. Look. It’s as easy as 1,2,3. You have a perfect little wedding. Like people like her have. You take out a joint life insurance policy like people like her do all the time. A lot of married couples do it. Then you go to the park -three months after the wedding- In the meantime, you live fat off of daddy’s money and get in some good banging. She is a good bang, no? Or does she try to have you put it in her belly button?
Michael: (stoned, blank) You’re not very funny.
Toby: Neither are you. We need this money. How hard is it to take your wife to the fucking park?
Michael: Hard. You don’t know a lot about me.
Toby: I sense you’re a chicken shit. You don’t even know what’ll happen when you’re at the park.
Michael: But I do.
Toby: But you don’t. Remember? You don’t. Now shut the fuck up and go find me ten more fucking dollars.
Michael: Have the rest of the bag back. I didn’t use it all.
Toby: Once you get in with me, bro, you can’t fucking give it back. . .I get what I want and I want what we planned. Capisce?
Michael: What’re you part of the fucking mob? Get outta my face.
Toby: (chomping a stick) I don’t care if she has AIDS and warts, you’re gonna marry her.
Michael: Do you want to live this way your whole life?
Toby: What are you saying?
Michael: Like this. (gestures) Huh? Do you? (pause) Answer me.
Toby is choking on a carrot stick. Michael realizes and jumps up.
Toby: (gasping)
Michael: Are you okay, man?
Toby: (chokes)
Michael: What should I do? I don’t know what to do!
Toby flounders around, knocking over the table, the scale, and the weed.
Michael: Oh shit. I can’t call 911. I can’t call anybody. Look at this place.
After a rowdy and violent attack on the room, Toby stops choking. He gasps and sputters for breath and collapses on the couch.
Michael: You had me so worried.
Toby: You fucking pussy.
Michael: I’m sorry.
Toby: Don’t apologize, you bastard. Can’t call anybody? Why the fuck not? I was fucking dieing.
Michael: Look at this place. Like we wouldn’t be arrested.
Toby: There are times when the cops should be called, asshole.
Michael: Like certain trips to the park?
Toby: Exactly. Just wait a little longer first.
Michael: Fuck you.
Toby: Re-bag my weed and you’ve earned yourself ten dollars, my man. Clean this place up so spotless, the pigs think we’re model citizens, and I’ll give you a free bag.
Michael: Really?
Toby: Of carrot sticks. I’m not fucking eating those things anymore. They’re disgusting and they kill you.
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
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