October 19, 2006

Two Young Gentlemen Attend a Dance at Their High School

Brett and Ryan are standing at the borders of a High School Dance, watching everyone else on the dance floor with contempt.

BRETT: Look at all of them. Losers. Dancing to music and crap.

RYAN: Yeah.

They stand there for a long moment, feeling superior to the kids dancing.

BRETT: Where were you this morning? I couldn't get a hold of you. A bunch of us went out to the empty field behind the middle school and threw rocks at this big scorpion's nest.

RYAN: Oh, I can't believe I missed that.

BRETT: You shoulda been there. Jeremy got stung real bad on his foot. It was pretty cool. I think he had to go to the hospital later.

RYAN: Wow. I was helping my Mom out, with some chores.

BRETT: Nerd.

RYAN: Shut up!

BRETT: Whatever. When my Dad gets back from the army, he said he's going to take me out to the dunes on his dune buggies.

RYAN: That's so unbelievably awesome.

BRETT: Yeah, so, maybe you can come. I mean, if you're not too busy with chores.

RYAN: Shut up!

Pause. Brett sneers at the dancers.

BRETT: Heh. Look at them. Losers.

RYAN: Yeah.

BRETT: See that girl?

RYAN: Which?

BRETT: With the boobs.

RYAN: Oh. Oh! Yeah, totally.

BRETT: You know what I heard? I heard she's so slutty, this one time, at a party, she opened a beer bottle with her cervix.

RYAN: Yow. That is hot.

BRETT: I know, right? (Yells) Hey, Brittany! Hey! I got a bottle of bud right here with you name on it! Oh, that's right! You dance away! Just dance away! Skank. You know Joey, that stoner kid?

RYAN: Which?

BRETT: With the boobs.

RYAN: Oh, yeah, totally.

BRETT: At my cousin's birthday party last year, he totally got it on with a bong.

RYAN: What?

BRETT: No, I'm serious. We had to throw it away. That kid's crazy. And thick, like a PVC pipe.

RYAN: You want punch?

BRETT: Sure.

Amanda comes up and approaches Brett.

AMANDA: Hey, Brett.


AMANDA: Kerri told me you weren't coming tonight.

BRETT: Kerri doesn't know me. No one does.

Amanda giggles.

AMANDA: Do you want to dance?

BRETT: Do you want to do it in the back of my Hyundai?


Brett shrugs. Amanda leaves. Ryan comes back.

RYAN: What were you guys talking about?

BRETT: She was hitting on me, but you scared her off.

RYAN: Oh. Sorry.

BRETT: No biggie. She wasn't my type anyway. I like dangerous chicks. When I yank it, sometimes I go get my Dad's old pistol out of the garage and play Russian Roulette, otherwise I can't finish.

Long, uncomfortable silence.

BRETT: Where's the punch?

RYAN: They're out.

BRETT: Hey, you know what's cool to do sometime?

RYAN: Huh?

BRETT: When a girl is going down on you, play air guitar on the back of her head. I totally did that one time. They love it.

Long pause.

BRETT: Hey! Kerri! Shake it, baby! Yeah! No one's watching, sweetheart! You're all alone! You rub all up on Jim's leg! You like that Jimmy, huh?! Go on Ry, try it.

RYAN: What?

BRETT: Heckling the girls. They like that.

RYAN: Really?

BRETT: Dude, I'm telling you, girls like guys that are jerks. You think I do this because I'm mean? No, I'm a great guy. I do this because that's how it gets done. Go for it.

Ryan hesitantly shouts to the crowd. As he does, Brett scoffs cynically.

RYAN: Hey! Hey, uh—Carol! You—you look really nice tonight! That's a very nice skirt! (Pause.) Yeah, I like it! (Pause) No, no, yeah I saw it there, and I—that's funny I actually thought, you know, hey, that's like something Carol would wear, and then--(Pause). What? Oh, ok! Yeah, I'll, um, I'll get a car, and—just a second-- (To Brett) Can I borrow your Hyundai?

BRETT: Can I get in the trunk and listen?

Ryan grudgingly nods, and Brett gives Ryan the keys. Exuent.

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