By Georgi Daverov
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.
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: 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?
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?
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 2016 Georgi Daverov. All rights reserved.
Short Story / Riddles
Script / Humor
Script / Humor
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