“RAVENS V. 49ERS”
“All the generals on the sideline are waging their athletic war. And the letters in the words they use never amount to more than four”
(We start with Ethan on the couch watching TV, tapping his fingers on his knee nervously. Kimberly comes in and sits down with him)
KIMBERLY: What are you ruminating about?
ETHAN: I have no idea who to root for in this Super Bowl. I have no connection to Baltimore or San Francisco. I mean, I hate San Francisco because it embodies the liberal values of sexual promiscuity, sexual homosexuality and sexual nudity, but on the other hand-
KIMBERLY: Baltimore Ravens linebacker Ray Lewis is a murderer?
ETHAN: That, and Baltimore is famous for crab cake, which is just awful.
KIMBERLY: Yeah and California has cheesecake!
ETHAN: And fruitcakes. HA! I deserve a freakin’ Oscar for that joke.
KIMBERLY: The point is, Ray Lewis is an awful human being and the only reason he got off for murder was a technicality and because he replaced the human life he deprived a family of with what really matters; money.
ETHAN: But, he also created a lot of life, dude’s got seven kids.
KIMBERLY: Seven illegitimate children, all born out of wedlock.
ETHAN: Sounds like San Francisco values to me.
KIMBERLY: Right, but he’s from Baltimore.
ETHAN: That’s right, damnit! I think I had a layover in Baltimore once, so…
KIMBERLY: Not very good rationale. (Ryan walks in) Here we go, unbiased third party opinion. Ryan, Ravens of 49ers?
RYAN: Nope, it is in the emo code of conduct to not give a shit about sports, whether it be the Super Bowl or whatever the football championship is called.
ETHAN: That’s the Super Bowl.
RYAN: No, not the bowling championship, the football one!
KIMBERLY: Are you not going to watch the Super Bowl?
RYAN: I haven’t watched a Super Bowl since 2009, mom, of course I’m not going to watch it. I’m going to walk around with my friends and we’re going to take pride in the fact that we’re not just one in 111 million.
KIMBERLY: But there’s 310 million Americans, so by not watching the Super Bowl you’re actually in the majority.
RYAN: Wha-but, no!
KIMBERLY: Yes. Listen, knife to your wrist, Ravens or 49ers?
ETHAN: Knife to his wrist? Kimmy, he’d enjoy that, Ryan, gun to your head, Ravens or 49ers?
RYAN: Um…the 49ers are Alaska right?
ETHAN: No, that’s the forty-ninth state.
RYAN: They’re the people from San Francisco, right?
ETHAN: No, that’s the-oh wait, yeah, San Francisco. Sorry, I expected you to get it wrong over and over again.
RYAN: The Ravens are from Baltimore?
KIMBERLY: Yeah. Edgar Alan Poe was from Baltimore too, I think they named the team the Ravens because of Poe’s story “The Raven”.
RYAN: Well, Edgar Alan Poe was like, the original emo kid, so I gotta go with the Ravens.
KIMBERLY: So you don’t care that the linebacker Ray Lewis is a murderer?
ETHAN: Well, the unbiased third party says Ravens, so I guess it’s Ravens.
KIMBERLY: Right, but the unbiased third party is Ryan.
ETHAN: ...GO 49ERS!
RYAN: C’mon. Ah, whatever. I don’t care about football, it goes back to my original point, which is I don’t care about football!
ETHAN: It directly states your original point.
KIMBERLY: Where are we going to watch the Super Bowl?
ETHAN: Mayor Sarandon’s mansion.
ETHAN: Hey Kimmy, can you do me a favor?
ETHAN: Can you not do that annoying thing where you point out the supposed sinister intention of every Super Bowl commercial?
KIMBERLY: But all those commercials perpetuating the consumption of alcohol as being vital to one’s masculinity are just manipulative and caustic!
ETHAN: This is exactly what I want to avoid!
RYAN: Alright, I’m out of here.
(Ryan walks away. Cut to Scott and Delaware in Scott’s garage sitting on bean bags. Scott has a bag of Cheetos and has his hand placed in it)
SCOTT: So, what’s the deal?
DELAWARE: I don’t know, I might quit. It depends on whether Ryan apologizes for intervening in my relationship like he’s a relationship Gundam or something.
SCOTT: Wait, so you want him to apologize for getting knocked out by you?
DELAWARE: I shouldn’t have had to knock him out!
SCOTT: That’s a fair point. By the way, there’s no way you could knock out a Gundam.
DELAWARE: Are you going to eat any of those Cheetos or are you just going to keep your hand in them like that?
SCOTT: This shit is bad for you, man.
(Ryan comes in)
RYAN: Hello Delaware, Scott.
(Delaware and Scott stand up)
DELAWARE: Hey buddy.
RYAN: Mr. Payne, Mr. Alexander, members of Depraved Hallway Fern, distinguished guests and fellow citizens. The State of our band is strong.
SCOTT: Why are you treating this like a State of the Union Address?
DELAWARE: Also, the state of our band isn’t strong, we haven’t had practice in over a month because you punched me repeatedly.
RYAN: Well, the State of our Union isn’t strong either, but the President still says it every year! Ugh, you know what? Let’s get over these petty grievances that have divided DHF.
DELAWARE: Fine, if you want us to resume practices, you’re going to need to apologize for intervening in Michelle and I’s relationship.
DELAWARE: You insulted the way I treat my girlfriend, man. You really hurt my fist when you got knocked out by me. And you just generally don’t seem to like me.
RYAN: You have it all wrong. I was drunker than a drunk fish out of a river of booze when I tried to fight you. Don’t take anything I say or use to hit you seriously when I’m in such a stupor.
DELAWARE: Dude, I’m high right now and I’m not going to hit you.
RYAN: You’re high right now?
DELAWARE: Yeah, President Grant, I’m higher than…
RYAN: You okay?
DELAWARE: Blacked out for a second, sorry.
SCOTT: Your eyes were open the entire time.
DELAWARE: The point is, I need an apology of you need a new guitarist.
SCOTT: …C’mon, Ryan, just apologize.
RYAN: …Do you know any good guitarists, Delaware?
DELAWARE: See ya, buddy.
(Delaware pats Ryan on the chest and walks away)
SCOTT: …The fuck, Ryan?
RYAN: I’m not going to apologize to that asshole! We can do better than him anyway.
SCOTT: Who are we going to get?
RYAN: We’ll hold open auditions or something, I don’t know.
SCOTT: It’s Super Bowl Sunday, nobody’s going to want to attend auditions.
RYAN: We’re looking for emos, right? Yeah, they don’t watch the Super Bowl, and of course the Super Bowl is too mainstream for you. We’ll be fine.
SCOTT: Fine, I’ll send out a social media wildfire.
(Scott takes out his phone)
RYAN: NO, NOT YET!
RYAN: Sarah, Brennan, Michael and I are going to go on a contemplative walk to show the general public how little we care about football.
SCOTT: I’ll just schedule the auditions for when you’re not expressing petty angst as if anybody gives a shit.
RYAN: Good. I’ll text you later.
(Ryan walks away. Cut to General DePinto sitting at a table with reading glasses on and a plaid shirt with short sleeves and a model airplane is in front of him and is surrounded by air plane glue. He taps his fingers and then hears a door bell)
NOAH: COME IN!
(Jacob and Kirsten walk in, holding hands as General DePinto rises from his chair)
JACOB: Hey Noah!
NOAH: Jacob! I was just working on my latest and greatest model airplane, I was.
NOAH: And who’s this here?
JACOB: This is my girlfriend Kirsten Snowe, I’ve talked to you about her before.
NOAH: Hi there, Kirsten. Damn golly, this is a joyous day, I’m meeting Jacob’s birdie and she’s a darling.
KIRSTEN: Thank you.
JACOB: Yeah, thanks, since when do you construct model airplanes?
NOAH: For at least thirty years, Jacob, boy has it been my hobby for a long real time. Can I get you guys orange juice or water or a bucket of ice or chocolate milk or ice shavings or-
JACOB: Way too many options, right? Why are you acting weirdly?
KIRSTEN: He’s just being polite, Jacob.
JACOB: Yeah, but he’s not usually like this.
NOAH: What are you talkin’ about, Mister? I’ve always been the nice old man with numerous banal hobbies like model airplanes, pottery and origami.
JACOB: No, you’ve always been the Vietnam Veteran with an arsenal of assault rifles, a brash attitude and a hatred of the National Guard.
NOAH: Those fucking dandies. I mean, airplane glue!
NOAH: I don’t know, ladies don’t necessarily subscribe to rough, gruff and tough weaponry and brash, masculine sensibilities, so I thought I’d, soften my image for the lady.
KIRSTEN: You know, ladies are allowed in direct combat now.
NOAH: Yeah, that oughta please the General Petraeuses of the world.
JACOB: You’re not holding off your brash characteristics that well anymore.
NOAH: Ah, fuck it. Anyway, it’s nice to meet you, Kirsten.
KIRSTEN: You as well, General. So Jacob and I were wondering if we could watch the Super Bowl here with you.
NOAH: Of course, I haven’t missed a Super Bowl since they first started when I was seventeen.
JACOB: Did they broadcast Super Bowls in Vietnam?
NOAH: Fine, maybe I missed six or seven Super Bowls, but I caught six or seven Toilet Bowls, which is where we force two privates to fight over who has to polish the latrines that night. One time it got so rough that one private broke the other private’s hands. Ironically, that cat didn’t have to polish the latrines again for a month.
KIRSTEN: (Laughs) Oh, I love war stories.
JACOB: Don’t expect much from this guy until you pump some liquor into him.
NOAH: Let’s begin that process.
(Cut to Noah, Jacob and Kirsten sitting in front of the TV. Noah has a beer in hand)
JACOB: The game’s about to start.
NOAH: Should we order pizza or something?
KIRSTEN: Sure, I’d go for pizza.
(Noah takes out a green landline phone with a coiled wire. He punches in the number and puts the phone to his ear)
JACOB: Wow, old phone.
NOAH: This is my old army phone. Hello? Is this Domino’s? Oh, sorry. (He hangs up) Wrong number.
KIRSTEN: Who’d you call?
NOAH: The Under Secretary of the Army Joseph Westphal.
JACOB: Wow. Why don’t I call?
NOAH: No, I just had the wrong number!
JACOB: I know, but that’s a pretty egregious wrong number!
(Jacob takes out his phone and dials a number)
NOAH: I guess this phone can only contact military personnel.
JACOB: Yeah…hello? Hi, I’d like a large pepperoni pizza with crazy insane bread-oh shit, sorry.
(Jacob hangs up)
KIRSTEN: Who was that?
JACOB: That was Joseph Westphal again.
KIRSTEN: Jesus, let me do it. (Kirsten takes out her phone and looks at it) Sorry! (She hangs up on someone) Apparently I was already on the phone with Joseph Westphal.
NOAH: I don’t think I can call anybody else.
(Cut to Mayor Sarandon in his mansion wearing a Ravens jersey and has his face painted like Ray Lewis. He is sitting on his couch while Fabio puts chips and dip on the coffee table)
MAYOR SARANDON: Do I look like Ray Lewis well enough?
FABIO: Maybe paint your entire face black, you look more like Ray Lewis.
MAYOR SARANDON: That’s called blackface; unfortunately it’s no longer acceptable. Maybe if I splash some blood on my face I could look more like Ray Lewis.
FABIO: In my country, blood on the face is a sign of respect.
MAYOR SARANDON: …To what? (The doorbell rings) Oh boy!
(Mayor Sarandon gets up and runs to the door and opens it to see Ethan, Kimberly, Evan, Ellen and Ellen. Evan is wearing a Ravens Jersey)
MAYOR SARANDON: EVAN!
ETHAN: Hey, Brian. Nice Ravens jersey.
KIMBERLY: Too bad we’re rooting for the-
MAYOR SARANDON: Why is it too bad that you’re rooting for the Ravens?
KIMBERLY: Because Ray Lewis was involved in a double-murder!
ETHAN: Kim, how do you know he wasn’t the murdered one?
KIMBERLY: Because he’s playing in the Super Bowl today!
MAYOR SARANDON: He was never convicted!
KIMBERLY: Neither was OJ.
EVAN: Speaking of OJ, I brought OJ (holds up a bag of orange juice and vodka) and vodka!
MAYOR SARANDON: Awesome, mimosas, my favorite! Thanks, Evan!
KIMBERLY: Mimosas are actually orange juice and champagne.
ETHAN: Good thing I brought (Holds up a bottle of Whiskey) Whiskey so we can make Whiskey mimosas!
MAYOR SARANDON: AWESOME! Thanks, Ethan!
(Evan gives an askance look at Ethan)
KIMBERLY: You can’t just put something in orange juice and call it a mimosa.
MAYOR SARANDON: Anyway, come in. (Ethan, Evan, Kimberly and Ellen come in) Make yourselves comfortable. (They each sit down on couches or chairs, each next to their partners) The game comes on soon; let me change it to CBS.
(Mayor Sarandon changes the channel to CBS and it shows the Sandy Hook Elementary school choir singing “America the Beautiful”, making all everyone go “aww”)
KIMBERLY: That’s very moving.
MAYOR SARANDON: Really touching…I wonder what mass shooting will decide who sings at next year’s Super Bowl.
KIMBERLY: It’s kind of an inevitable reality at this point, huh?
ETHAN: Ugh, why is Jennifer Hudson stealing those kids’ thunder?
EVAN: I’m going to go ahead and make the vodka mimosas.
ETHAN: AND I’m going to go ahead and..bake…and wake? Is that a thing?
KIMBERLY: Ethan will order pizza.
MAYOR SARANDON: No need. FABIO!
(Fabio comes in)
FABIO: Yes sir?
MAYOR SARANDON Get us deep-dish Chicago-style pizza and use the brick oven, please.
FABIO: Yes sir.
EVAN: And I’ll make the vod-mosas.
(Evan gets up and walks into the kitchen, leaving Ethan with nothing to do)
ETHAN: I’ll watch the coin toss.
MAYOR SARANDON: Look, they have President Obama doing the coin toss!
ETHAN: Nope, that’s just a black guy.
MAYOR SARANDON: Why don’t they do presidential coin tosses anymore? Reagan had the American courage to do it. Wait, Morgan Freeman’s doing it?
ETHAN: Brian, is there anything I can do to ramp this party up to high-gear?
MAYOR SARANDON: Um, put some good music on, maybe. Something to play in the background, but to where we can still hear the game.
MAYOR SARANDON: And don’t play that Pandora shit. If I wanted to listen to every other song besides the one I wanted to listen to I’d go to an Eric Clapton concert.
ETHAN: Got it. I’ll put a playlist on YouTube and connect your laptop to your speakers.
(Ethan gets up and goes over to Mayor Sarandon’s laptop and opens it up. He goes to YouTube and logs in. He opens up his playlist and plays “Lump” by the Presidents of the United States of America)
MAYOR SARANDON: God, I hate this song. I mean, what is lump? Is it a story of a man falling in love with a tumor?
EVAN: Uh-oh, bad selection, Donahue.
ETHAN: (Whispering to himself) Damnit. Time to employ an emergency maneuver. (Ethan puts on “Thrift Shop” by Macklemore and Ryan Lewis and everyone starts dancing) Works every time.
EVAN: Why does everybody like this song?!
(Cut to Ryan, Sarah, Michael and Brennan walking along the side of the road. Ryan is holding two pills and a glass of orange juice)
RYAN: Who wants Xanax mimosas?!
RYAN: Fine! More for me!
(Ryan takes a Xanax and drinks the entire glass of orange juice and throws the glass to the side)
BRENNAN: It looks like you only brought one.
RYAN: I asked because I didn’t want to leave you guys out!
MICHAEL: What if we had said yes?
RYAN: Let’s focus our energies on angst, please! How are you guys?
BRENNAN: Well I’m avoiding my dad’s 3D TV Super Bowl watch party with his vending machine buddies. Now I’m planning on getting drunk and taking Prozac and texting people’s girlfriends inappropriately.
RYAN: Where are you planning on getting Prozac?
BRENNAN: From my bestest friend in the whole wide sugar on top?
RYAN: Those pills aren’t cheap, Brennan. But I’ll consider it. Michael, what’s up with you?
MICHAEL: My Kindergarten graduation was retroactively revoked the other day.
SARAH: How does that even happen?
MICHAEL: Apparently my test grades are so bad this year that when they average everything, including finger paints from twelve years ago, the grades go down to 20.
RYAN: Well…I’m almost afraid to ask, how are you, Sarah?
SARAH: My mom wants to get plastic surgery to make her breasts look, and I quote, “Asian”.
RYAN: So, she wants to make them smaller?
SARAH: No, she just wants them to have, and I quote once again, “an Chinese color”.
RYAN: Wow. Just her breasts?
BRENNAN: Did you mean to say “a Chinese color” by the way?
SARAH: No, she said “an Chinese color”.
BRENNAN: Jesus Christ.
SARAH: But, I’m just glad that I’m spending time with my boyfriend and my best friends.
RYAN: Yeah, this is nice. But, I was hoping you guys could help me find a new guitarist for my band.
SARAH: What happened to Delaware?
RYAN: He told me to go soak my fat head and fuckin’ quit.
BRENNAN: Maybe you could get Calvin Lamiter?
RYAN: Yeah, how about someone who’s not an asshole?
MICHAEL: ‘Kay, so that rules you out.
RYAN: Fuck you.
SARAH: Why don’t you just hold auditions?
RYAN: We’re going to, but I need judges.
MICHAEL: I’m in.
BRENNAN: Me as well, too.
RYAN: Great. But no one’s allowed to make American Idol jokes. I don’t have many requirements, but the guitarist must wear dark clothing, tight skinny jeans, super skinny or skinnier, must have hair that is past his ears and collar, red highlights are both preferable and mandatory, also, no fatties.
SARAH: Those guidelines are way too stringent.
RYAN: Yeah, let’s just get a fat emo! When he cuts himself, I bet he bleeds butter!
SARAH: No, that makes sense; I’m talking about all the other requirements.
MICHAEL: Yeah, I mean, you wouldn’t even meet those requirements.
RYAN: Dude, I can barely feel my balls. My jeans are tight enough.
MICHAEL: Yeah, but you don’t have red highlights.
RYAN: Those are only preferable.
RYAN: Mandatory, that’s correct.
RYAN: Fine, if you want to waive certain requirements for particularly good guitarists then I’ll consider it.
SARAH: That’s very noncommittal, but I imagine that’s all we’re going to get out of you.
RYAN: Yep. (Cut to Ryan and Scott standing in Scott’s garage with Michael, Brennan and Sarah) Here is my all-star panel of judges. They will provide unbiased, third-party opinions on some contestants for guitarist in my band.
SCOTT: While these third-party judges hammer it out, Ryan and I will be having a fourth party in his kitchen where we will hammer out a fifth of jack.
MICHAEL: You don’t want to see some of the contestants?
RYAN: I have total veto power.
SCOTT: But I can override Ryan’s veto if I can get two-thirds of my entire body to agree.
SARAH: That sounds like it would be really easy.
SCOTT: I don’t know, my appendix can be a fickle little bitch.
RYAN: Anyway, I’ll leave Paula, Simon and Randy to their devices.
SARAH: You’re the one who said no American Idol jokes!
RYAN: Let’s go.
(Ryan and Scott walk inside)
MICHAEL: Can we have the first contestant, please? (Pause) Is there anybody- (Cooper walks in wearing sunglasses, smiling and holding beef jerky and a fuzzy pillow) Oh. Hi there, are you here for the audition?
COOPER: Yeah, man.
MICHAEL: Great, go ahead and play the guitar.
BRENNAN: He said play the guitar, the sheet music is right there.
COOPER: I don’t know how to play the guitar.
SARAH: Then why did you come in here? Also, why are you holding beef jerky-
COOPER: STOLEN Beef jerky.
SARAH: STOLEN beef jerky and a fuzzy pillow?
COOPER: Feel it!
(Cooper holds out the pillow and Michael, Brennan and Sarah feel it)
MICHAEL: It does feel nice. (They all stop feeling it) Anyway, you don’t have what it takes bro and you’re clearly on drugs and apparently just wandered in here, so…get out.
SARAH: Well, that was useless.
BRENNAN: Don’t worry, Sarah, that’s one person down and…probably more to go. NEXT!
(Alex comes in with his guitar)
ALEX: Hi there.
ALEX: So, shall I begin?
BRENNAN: Sure, the sheet music is right there.
(Alex walks over to the sheet music)
ALEX: Yeah, this is sheet music.
SARAH: Why are you insulting it if you want to be in the band?
ALEX: Let me play a song my father taught me in between fits of throwing milk at me.
BRENNAN: isn’t your dad deaf?
ALEX: No, he’s alive, thank you.
BRENNAN: I said deaf.
ALEX: Oh. Yeah he is. I will now play the song, though.
(He starts strumming his guitar and singing in a deaf voice, very mumbled and unintelligible)
SARAH: Okay, get out.
(Cut to Jacob, Noah and Kirsten eating pizza and watching the game)
NOAH: So, we’re an hour in and it’s 14-3, Ravens.
JACOB: Is that good? I don’t actually know who I support.
KIRSTEN: Cheer for the underdog, everybody likes a good underdog.
JACOB: I don’t know, I’m kind of a bandwagon jumper. I supported the Panthers during the 38th Super Bowl.
KIRSTEN: The Panthers won.
JACOB: Yeah, but both teams got to see Janet Jackson’s nipple. That’s winning in my book.
(Noah pours himself a drink and takes a sip)
NOAH: You supported the Panthers over the Patriots? You live in New England!
JACOB: (Laughs) Yeah, I was nine and I just wanted to piss my dad off.
NOAH: That’s the problem with this generation. No loyalty. It’s all about angst and rebellion against the older generation, there’s no respect for elders anymore. In China, you sure as shit have respect for your elders. Elders have as much respect as length in their beard in the orient.
JACOB: Yeah. Shit, it’s 21-3 now, Ravens.
NOAH: And another thing! Why do people say divorce is never a child’s fault? Statistically, it has to be his fault SOMETIMES.
KIRSTEN: I don’t know, I usually think it’s marital problems which could be related to children, but still not necessarily a child’s fault.
NOAH: Well my parents got divorced YEARS after I left the house and I took full responsibility and it’s about damn time that the kids of this nation take responsibility for the older generation.
JACOB: Noah, do you have any kids?
NOAH: I haven’t seen my father since I was nine.
JACOB: That’s sad, but that’s not what I asked you.
NOAH: I haven’t seen my mom since I was three. I haven’t seen my adoptive parents since I was one.
NOAH: I was raised by snails. They taught me how to be tough; they taught me how to fight!
JACOB: Why would snails know how to fight?
NOAH: I don’t know Jacob, what do you want me to say? That I come from some broken family? I don’t! I grew up with two loving parents and when I was eighteen, they fully supported my decision to go into the military. But kids these days are too busy XBOXing and Play gaming to consider military service.
JACOB: I think that’s a generalization, I mean, you guys had to have a draft there was so little interest in military service.
NOAH: Well at least we had the balls to instate the draft! There’s so little interest in military service now that we’re sopping up felons, gays, chicks and dead people just to maintain an army.
JACOB: Well, maybe this isn’t the right time to bring this up, but I should probably tell Kirsten that I have considered military service.
JACOB: Yes, General DePinto has encouraged me. I haven’t won the blessing of my parents yet, however.
NOAH: Why do you need their blessing?! You’re eighteen! You can join the military without their permission!
JACOB: Right, and I want to, but-
NOAH: THEN WHY THE FUCK DON’T YOU?
(Noah slams down his glass, gets up and walks into his bedroom, much to Jacob and Kirsten’s shock. They sit there awe-struck)
JACOB: …Sorry about that.
KIRSTEN: What the hell was that?
JACOB: He can be an angry drunk sometimes.
KIRSTEN: Shit. Did we piss him off somehow?
JACOB: He’s just, he’s passionate about the military and he wants me to join.
(Jacob turns to Kirsten)
KIRSTEN: Jacob, I couldn’t stomach the thought of you being in the service.
JACOB: Why not?
KIRSTEN: Well for one, they don’t have stoner infantries or even stoner reserves!
JACOB: Yeah, but the military could be the discipline I need! I met Noah at the High School, he was a recruiter. He says he’s seen kids like me go into the military and come back more disciplined and more well-rounded.
KIRSTEN: And more traumatized, wounded or dead.
JACOB: But I’ll have known I defended this country from Afghani terrorists, or whatever we’re at war with when I enlist. I’ll know that I kept my country safe from Iranian Space monkeys or whatever it is.
KIRSTEN: Jacob…don’t put a sequester on our relationship.
JACOB: We already have a sequester, it’s you going to Canada in six months.
KIRSTEN: And what if you enlist before August? Are you even going to graduate?
JACOB: Yes, I’ll graduate. Seniors ’13, right?
JACOB: Yeah, the phrase that gives us an excuse to be lazy and dismissive of juniors?
KIRSTEN: Yeah, I know, Seniors ’13.
(Noah comes back in)
NOAH: Hey, um…I’m really sorry about that. Sometimes I have a temper, I-
KIRSTEN: You mean you don’t have a temper
KIRSTEN: Temper means a calm disposition or state of mind, so you don’t have a temper.
(Noah storms out the back door in anger)
JACOB: Jesus Christ.
(Cut to Ethan, Evan, Mayor Sarandon, Kimberly and Ellen watching the game)
MAYOR SARANDON: How does a blackout happen in the middle of a Super Bowl?
ETHAN: Maybe a bird flew into the stadium and they shut off the lights and opened the windows so it would fly out.
MAYOR SARANDON: What window?! It’s an open stadium!
EVAN: Good point, Brian.
MAYOR SARANDON: Thank you, Evan.
ETHAN: Maybe they turned off the lights and opened the windows so Ray Lewis would fly out, he’s about as intelligent as a bird.
MAYOR SARANDON: Nice!
(Mayor Sarandon and Ethan high-five)
EVAN: I thought you were a Ravens fan.
MAYOR SARANDON: Yeah, but, come on, Ray Lewis is a fucking asshole. He killed someone, you know.
KIMBERLY: I was trying to tell you that earlier!
MAYOR SARANDON: This blackout is making me bored. (Mayor Sarandon exaggeratedly yawns) ENTERTAIN MEEEEE!
ELLEN: That was loud.
(Evan gets up)
EVAN: I can juggle! Someone give me three objects!
(Ethan takes out three handguns)
ETHAN: Juggle these!
KIMBERLY: Why do you have those?
ETHAN: Self-defense! And juggling!
EVAN: How about something not dangerous?
MAYOR SARANDON: I have torches out back.
KIMBERLY: How about balls?
EVAN: Or tissues! Remember Elementary School?
MAYOR SARANDON: I’m losing interest.
EVAN: I need three objects!
ETHAN: Step aside. (Ethan stands up) I fell asleep halfway through a Russell Brand comedy special and sporadically woke up during it and then fell back to sleep. So let me just…paraphrase some of the jokes. Uh…tight pants? Something about tight pants? And meditation? Maybe it was actually an infomercial for puffy shirts, I’m not sure.
MAYOR SARANDON: LOSING INTEREST!
KIMBERLY: Why do you need constant stimuli?
MAYOR SARANDON: Russell Brand isn’t funny, I need ENTERTAINMEEEEENT!
KIMBERLY: Do you need to shout the word entertainment in a loud voice like that?
MAYOR SARANDON: YEEEEEES!
EVAN: I am a psychic. Does anyone know a Germaine in this room? (Pause) Took a shot in the dark there.
ETHAN: I can skeet shoot! Unlike some President Barack Obamas I know. Who here has skeet?
MAYOR SARANDON: What is skeet?
ETHAN: I’m honestly not sure.
EVAN: How about we entertain you by wrestling?
MAYOR SARANDON: Sounds not gay! Go ahead!
ETHAN: YOU’RE GOING DOWN MOTHERF-
KIMBERLY: Ellen, can’t you stop this?!
ETHAN: Kimberly, we’re not on an NBC show, let me finish. MOTHERFUCKER! There, go ahead.
KIMBERLY: Ellen, can’t you stop this?
ELLEN: Eh, let them fight it out, they’re clearly using this as a proxy battle for Mayor Sarandon’s admiration since they’re in the same position.
KIMBERLY: Yeah, why can’t Brian see that?
MAYOR SARANDON: I can see it. I think it’s kind of funny. Now nourish my thirst for violence in the absence of cheering for men smashing their heads into each other and securing depression and anger problems for the rest of their lives.
EVAN: Let’s wrestle!
(Evan tackles Ethan and they start wrestling on the ground. Mayor Sarandon, Kimberly and Ellen stand up to watch them)
MAYOR SARANDON: I’ve got forty bucks on the Ravens!
ELLEN: You’re just now telling us this?
MAYOR SARANDON: Yeah, I can’t bet on this fight, I don’t want to waste money on this.
KIMBERLY: This is so ridiculous; you guys are both in your late forties!
ETHAN: In the words of scripture, now’s the time for childish things!
(Evan puts Ethan in a headlock)
EVAN: SAY UNCLE!
KIMBERLY: This is pathetically juvenile.
MAYOR SARANDON: It’s probably all the Blue Moon they were drinking.
ELLEN: Okay, so they’re not children, they’re college girls.
MAYOR SARANDON: They didn’t even touch their mimosas.
KIMBERLY: I’m putting a stop to this. (Kimberly walks over and physically separates Ethan and Evan with only minor resistance. They both then stand up, as does Kimberly) You two are grown men and you’re fighting like petulant children!
ETHAN: Well he took my job!
EVAN: YOU QUIT!
ETHAN: Yeah and then I come back and Sarandon gets a free ride off to acquittal-ville and I have to share the boxcar with pretension Joe even here?
EVAN: Hey asshole, my dad died of pretension!
EVAN: HIGH pretension.
ETHAN: Brian, you’ve got to choose between him and I!
MAYOR SARANDON: You two are ridiculous. You were both drawn into this game of trying to impress me? But you forgot that the least impressive thing one can do is engage in placation or cajolery to gain my favor.
EVAN: You seemed to enjoy it.
MAYOR SARANDON: Yeah, it was pretty funny. But for real, you guys need to cool down. Here’s the real way to gain my favor. (Mayor Sarandon holds up two brochures that read “HANSBAY: COMMUNIST-FREE SINCE 1955”) We desperately need to update our tourism industry. We’ve been running off the fumes of McCarthyism for damn near 58 years now. We need to update out tourism promotions drastically. That is why I am tasking both of you to come up with a tourism video and a new brochure by February 13th. Can you handle this task, gentleman?
ETHAN AND EVAN: (In unison) Yes sir.
MAYOR SARANDON: Then go forth and prosper. Also, don’t say we’re a tightly knit community, you’ll make us sound like Puritans, say we hate each other but it doesn’t matter because you’re just stopping in for the weekend and no Ethan you cannot promote tourist traps.
MAYOR SARANDON: Good luck, gentlemen. (Mayor Sarandon hands them the brochures) Also, I’d like to keep the “no communists since ‘55” thing, it has pizazz.
KIMBERLY: It’s a remnant of McCarthyism.
ETHAN: I think it’s catchy.
EVAN: I won’t let you down, Mr. Mayor!
(Ethan puts his hands on both of Mayor Sarandon’s shoulders)
ETHAN: I won’t let you down, Brian.
(Ethan then hugs Mayor Sarandon)
EVAN: Advantage Ethan, point Ethan, I’m just a stranger.
ELLEN: Do we have any Blue Moons left?
(Cut to Brennan, Michael and Sarah in the garage watching Preston perform stand-up with a microphone. He is wearing a t-shirt and a tie around his neck)
PRESTON: What’s the deal with computer duster? If I wanted my computer to be dusty, I’d leave it in a closet for an extended period of time!
BRENNAN: Did you think was a talent show?
PRESTON: I did, yes.
SARAH: So you can’t play the guitar?
PRESTON: No. But I can do stand-up.
MICHAEL: No, you can’t, that was really bad.
PRESTON: …I’ll see myself out then. (Pause) How do I go about seeing myself out?
BRENNAN: It’s a garage, there’s an open garage door right there, just walk!
PRESTON: SO sorry I had to ask a question.
(Preston leaves. Ryan and Scott walk in, clearly drunk)
RYAN: What’s up, guys? Do we got some-do we got some peeps to be my new tardist?
SCOTT: He meant guitarist.
MICHAEL: Anyway, we have some potential candidates, but we’re still sorting things out.
RYAN: Who are the potentials?
SARAH: Paul Lipinski, Todd Grimm, Jim Gingrey, MSNBC Host Chris Hayes-
RYAN: God, I hate that kid.
SARAH: Okay, well, that’s it.
SCOTT: I don’t-I don’t like any of those shits.
RYAN: Yeah, me neither.
BRENNAN: Well, our next contestant is Trey Goodlatte and his girlfriend Colleen.
(Trey and Colleen walk in)
COLLEEN: Trey, where are we?
TREY: I’m gonna try out for this band, babe.
COLLEEN: Like an audition?
TREY: Yeah, babe. Just like when you auditioned for that porno. Heh.
COLLEEN: (Passively) You’re such an asshole, Trey. I trust you though.
TREY: You would’ve gotten the part if the director wasn’t a dick about your malformed ass.
COLLEEN: Oh yeah, I forgot that actually happened. You’re still an asshole though. And I still trust you.
TREY: Let me get on that ax.
RYAN: I can already tell I’m going to-
(A disheveled looking young man with holes wearing black clothing with holes in his jeans and long disheveled black hair walks over)
DISHEVELED MAN: Does anybody here have money for Burger King or something?
SARAH: This isn’t a homeless shelter.
RYAN: Sarah, wait a minute, holy shit, are you Mallart Bond’s emo half-brother who works at a Burger King?
MALLART BOND’S EMO HALF BROTHER WHO WORKS AT A BURGER KING: Worked at a Burger King, but yeah I am. Or was.
RYAN: Holy shit, what an honor! I think. Are you down on your luck?
MALLART BOND’S EMO HALF BROTHER WHO WORKED AT A BURGER KING: Fuck yeah. A month and a half ago Devil’s Niece kicked my ass out of the band because I tried to earn some extra cash money by selling out to Burger King and now I’m roaming the streets, blowin’ dogs for spare change-
RYAN: Dogs don’t have money.
EMO HALF BROTHER: Damnit. Anyway, yeah I’m on major hardships.
(Ryan looks towards Scott)
RYAN: Dude, he’s desperate, he’s experienced and he smells like wet dog.
SCOTT: Apparently because he made dogs wet.
RYAN: Yeah, but that shows how desperate he is. Maybe it’s just because I’m drunk, but I think he’s perfect.
SCOTT: How old are you and what’s your name?
EMO HALF BROTHER: I’m twenty-one and my name is Oleander Doom.
RYAN: Awesome name, drinking age and he’s a fixer upper! Just get him a shower and we’ll steal some shirts and skinny jeans from Hot Topic with Michelle’s indulgence and we’ll be good!
SCOTT: Awesome! Judges?
BRENNAN: He is a good bassist.
MICHAEL: I love “Live Another Dark” by the way.
OLEANDER: I wrote that song on a Burger King receipt.
MICHAEL: Is that why that one lyric goes like “My heart is beating extemporaneously, my soul is beating at extra speed, you know that I can’t impede, Chicken Strips 5.99”?
OLEANDER: Yeah, I think so.
MICHAEL: I’m sold!
RYAN: Welcome to Depraved Hallway Fern, Oleander.
OLEANDER: Wait, what? I’m in a band?
SCOTT: Yeah, our band. You’re the guitarist.
OLEANDER: AWESOME! I’M IN A BAND AGAIN! Thanks so much you guys! (He goes over to Ryan and Scott and hugs them) Come here!
RYAN: Wow, that must’ve been the skid row of dog parks.
(Oleander lets go)
OLEANDER: Could I get some food? I’m starving to death.
RYAN: Sure, we were just about to go to Burger King.
(Cut to Jacob, Kirsten and General DePinto watching the game. DePinto is still drinking)
JACOB: God, that was a great beer commercial.
KIRSTEN: That was a Best Buy commercial.
JACOB: Really? I just kind of assumed they were all beer commercials. As an impressionable adolescent, the beer ads make me want to drink inordinately, especially that Doritos Beer.
NOAH: I just didn’t like that GoDaddy chick kissing the nerdy kid.
JACOB: Because he wasn’t attractive enough to kiss her?
NOAH: No, because I haven’t kissed somebody in forever.
KIRSTEN: Just convert to Scientology; they’re pushing it pretty hard this year.
NOAH: Yeah, maybe I will. There’s nothing left for me here anyway, I might as well be a delusional fanatic.
JACOB: I don’t like you talking like that, Noah.
NOAH: Well at least I could believe in something, Jacob! I can’t even believe in you!
JACOB: Would you stop?
NOAH: If you’ve got something to say, say it!
JACOB: You want me to? How about this? You need help. Whether it’s a therapist, or AA or something, you need fucking help.
NOAH: I don’t need shit.
JACOB: Then don’t tell me I need the army. And don’t get piss drunk in front of my girlfriend and I.
NOAH: …Fine. How about this? I’ll got to triple A if you talk to your parents about the Stars and Stripes brigades, and I mean REALLY talk to them this time.
(Jacob and Noah shake hands)
KIRSTEN: Great, now let’s focus on how the 49ers are going to pull ahead and get a squeaker victory-oh, GODDAMNIT!
(Cut to Mayor Sarandon, Ethan, Evan and Ellen cheering profusely while Kimberly sits, disappointed)
KIMBERLY: Did you guys know he’s a murderer?!
(Cut to black)
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