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Juice Sketch

By: Georgi Daverov

Page 1, It is what it is...

Juice

By Georgi Daverov

Characters:

Shop owner: A balding Jew in his 50s, yet looking older. Sandals on his feet, wearing a running suit, his ass crack showing as well as his belly.

Kid: A teenage refugee male, about to enter his 20s, working as a shop assistant.

The Shop Owner is standing behind the counter doing the bills as the boy enters from outside carrying a box of key chains. He gently puts it down under the supervision of his employer then turns to him with the following plead.

Kid: Sir, I just wanted to say: I’ve been working for you for six months now and you haven’t raised my wage a bit. Now, first day I passed through the door of this shop you said and I quote: “You start at seven Euros. Two weeks, see how it goes, maybe I raise you to seven fifty.” That was long ago. I think it’s time to prove yourself a man of his word…

Shop owner: Whose word?

Kid: Your word.

SO: What word?

Kid: To give me a raise.

SO: That’s many words

Kid: More than my money, to say the least.

SO: Ok, listen kid. It’s been a rough season. Weather’s been terrible to us.

Kid: It's the Netherlands, weather’s always been terrible. You know it, I know it. Weather’s not the reason and I want a raise.

SO: Well, race then, where is your bike?

Kid: I don’t have a bike

SO: No? What do you have, a horse? You got a horse?

Kid: No, I don’t have a horse.

SO: Turtle?

Kid: Who has a turtle?

SO: I do. ’Wanna race it?

Kid: I DON’T WANNA RACE!

SO: Bravo, no raise for you, I pay you six fifty.

Kid: It’s seven.

SO: It’s seven if you get a raise.

Kid: Now hold on a second.

SO: I don’t have a second. I pay you six Euros for that second.

Kid: It’s seven and it’s per hour.

SO: Well, Yes, hour.

Kid: Thank you.

SO: But you still take five fifty.

Kid: What?

SO: What?

Kid: That’s ridicules, I quit!

SO: You can’t quit, I’ll have you deported.

Kid: Where are you going with this?

SO: (licking an envelope) To the post office

Kid: What do you have inside?

SO: Sperm.

Kid: (Long pause) You got to be kidding me!

SO: Of course.

Kid: Thank God!

SO: I wouldn’t bother going to the post office myself when I have you, you little cunt, would I?

Kid: Why are you mailing your sperm?

SO: My semen is somewhat valuable. So I’m sending it to the bank.

Kid: A bank?

SO: It’s a sperm bank.

Kid: You’re four hundred years old. Your semen's ages beyond valuable.

SO: It’s fast.

Kid: No it’s not

SO: High-speed shit

Kid: High-speed shit? ‘Should be in a wheelchair.

SO: Hey (Pause)…, fuck-face, why don’t ya put your hand upon my member and find out for yourself.

Kid: No thank you.

SO: Yes thank you. Take a Jizz kid, I’ll have you loaded.

Kid: You’re not my father.

SO: You can’t know that. Wait a minute, you took your father’s jizz?

Kid: No.

SO: You took your father’s Jizz, didn’t you?

Kid: I don’t wanna talk about it.

SO: You so milked that dong. I can tell by the smile on your face.

Kid: That’s private.

SO: Bravo! I have quite a shlong myself, if you’re interested?

Kid: I am not interested in your shlong. (Pause) May be later.

SO: Well, what are you interested in?

Kid: A raise.

SO: ‘Can’t race my sperm kid. It’s too fast, too furious.

© Copyright 2014Georgi Daverov All rights reserved. Georgi Daverov has granted theNextBigWriter, LLC non-exclusive rights to display this work on Booksie.com.

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