Tuesday, November 27, 2012

A Dialogue

Vince (Shouting in bar):  I HATE MY LIFE. I f***ing hate my life
Ryan (Vince's buddy):  Shut the f*** up. You're gonna get us thrown out.
Vince:  I can't stand it. I'm going to explode. I'm so goddamn trapped.
Ryan:  We're all trapped buddy, we're all trapped. But you don't want to make a big deal in here.
Sexy Waitress (Striding over with stern look on her face):  You need to calm down, some of the customers are complaining
Vince:  I don't want to calm down. I hate my life.
Sexy Waitress:  Hey look. Being a waitress wasn't my childhood dream. Life sucks. Deal with it. And do it quietly.
Vince:  At least you got cleavage to fall back on.
Sexy Waitress and Ryan (simultaneously):  What the f*** are you talking about?
Vince:  Never mind. You don't understand.
Sexy Waitress:  You get crazy again and you are out of here.
Sexy Waitress walks away.

Vince:  She doesn't get it. She's a bimbo.
Ryan:  Sit down.
Vince (sitting down):  You don't know how much I hate my life. If I saw a guy throw a puppy in a meat grinder and then fix himself up a plate of puppy tartare, I would hate his guts with my entire being.
Ryan:  That's disgusting. You're an idiot.
Vince:  I would hate his guts with all my being. I hate my life even more than that.

A few seconds of silence

Vince:  And what about God? Where is he in this whole equation? Isn't he supposed to take care of me? I'm a good guy. I haven't killed anybody.
Ryan:  He's not supposed to get you a better job, for Christ sake.
Vince:  What if there isn't a god? What if this is all there is? I don't want this life. I didn't ask for it. If this life is all I have with no redemption to look forward to, I'm ready to check out right now. Dying drunk is a noble way to go. Lots of poets have done it.
Ryan:  You're not a poet.

Vince:  What about the American Dream? You are supposed to be rewarded when you work hard. Climb the ladder, make more money, drive nice cars, bang hot chicks. I've been working hard for forty years and I all I got to show for it is a bad back and aching knees and a subscription to Playboy.
Ryan:  George Carlin said they call it a dream because you have to be asleep to believe it. Listen, life sucks. It's unfair. It's a grind. That's just the way it is. You gotta be grateful for what you got and make your fun where you can.
Vince:  Don't give me that grateful crap. Those are words you speak on your knees. I'm supposed to be grateful for driving a fifteen year old truck? I'm supposed to be grateful that pizza is a big night out? I'm supposed to be grateful that every time something breaks I sweat blood wondering how I'm going to pay for it?

A few seconds of silence.

Vince:  I'm making my own fun. Right here. Right now. I need another drink.
Ryan:  You are making an ass out of yourself. If you have another drink you'll puke on your shoes.
Vince:  I don't care. I hate these shoes.

Vince climbs up on his chair and shouts: Hey waitress. Bring me another civilized whiskey.
Customers all around them yell:  Sit down idiot and shut up. Get a life.
Vince gets agitated:  See what I mean? Even these people know I have no life. How do I get a life? Where do I get a life? I WANT A GODDAMN LIFE.

Sexy Waitress and The Bouncer come running over.

The Bouncer says:  You are done buddy. Pay the little lady here and get the hell out.
Vince begins to reply but Ryan puts his hand over Vince's mouth.
Ryan:  We're all set. I'll settle up and get him out of here. I am so sorry for the disturbance. He thinks his life sucks and it's eating him up.
The Bouncer:  Hey look. Being a bouncer wasn't my childhood dream. Life does suck. The entire booze industry is built around that truth.
Vince breaks down, begins to cry and whimper:  I just want a life. I just want a little dignity. I never knew it would end up this way. I had potential. I had dreams. I got no hope and my dreams are dead.
The Bouncer:  Shut up, wussy boy. Just deal with it.

Ryan settles up with the waitress, giving her a big tip. The Bouncer walks away.
Ryan wraps his arm around Vince and prepares to leave.

Before he does, he enjoys a lingering appraisal of Sexy Waitress's cleavage and says:
Whaddya say we get together later, I stick a celery stalk down your cleavage and we pretend that you are a Bloody Mary?
Sexy Waitress smiles coyly and says:  I get off at two.

1 comment:

  1. Remember me? I sign my comments as "A New Reader". I am no longer a new reader (I read your blog almost every day) but I will continue to sign that way so you will know it is me.
    You have to get off your high horse, your soap box, or whatever you think you are standing on.
    If you want something (a better life) you have to go out and get it. No one is going to give it to you.
    Quit whining and go get a better life.
    You can do it!!!!!