The Groovy Adventures of Matt Locke: Job - Part 2
September 1st 2006 13:04
Matt races to the front door, earnest in his effort to answer the knocking. He fumbles with the door handle, have a hard time working it due to the spoon he is still holding in his hand. Finally he opens the door. It is not the Mailman as he had hoped, his face falls in dismay.
Matt: Oh, it’s you.
It is Buzz, a friend of Matt and Leif’s. He is tall, with messy red-hair and a goofy expression plastered across his face, slightly grubby looking and dressed rather poorly in patched-up trousers, unwashed T-shirt and dirty tweed jacket that he has probably found in a dumpster, he wipes his nose loudly on his sleeve and makes a Chimpanzee-like screeching noise instead of saying ‘Hello’. Matt looks unimpressed. He puts the spoon in Buzz’s gaping mouth and turns away from the door.
Buzz walks in, not closing the door behind him, Leif watches in dismay as Buzz scratches himself behind the ear and spies a piece of broken wood on the ground, probably from a long-lost chair of Matt or Leif’s. Buzz casually picks up the wood and bites into it, as if testing it’s strength. He discards it in disgust.
Buzz: Needs salt.
Buzz sits down at the table with Matt and Leif. He starts to eat Matt’s abandoned breakfest; a disturbing mix of beer, cat food and jalapeno chillis. Buzz continuously begins to scoop the concoction into his mouth without reaction. Leif watches him, wincing, he turns to Matt.
Leif: Tell your dumbarse friend to fuck off.
Matt: No! You tell your dumbarse friend to fuck off.
They both continue to watch Buzz warily as he finishes off Matt’s bowl of crud. They’re attention is suddenly snapped away as someone knocks on the already open front door, it’s the Mailman.
Mailman: Mail.
Matt jumps up enthusiastically and races over to the door, the Mailman drops the letters to the floor and walks away, Matt calls after him.
Matt: How are you today? Good? Do you want to watch some videos with me?
There is no answer. Matt holds back any possible tears and closes the door, scooping up the letters and dropping them on the table in front of Leif. Leif picks them up and starts to sort through them.
Leif: Bill, bill, rent, bill, ohhhh Matt, you’re stupid penpal from Lithuania has written back to you.
Matt snatches the letter back and hastily opens it, reading from it happily.
Matt: Dear Matt, please do not be corres… corre-sponding, corresponding to me again. Your poem about sheep reduced me to hours of vomiting in disgust, I fear that you suffer from some sort of re-tar… re-tra… Hey Leif, what does that say?
Leif looks at the letter.
Leif: (deadpan, staring at Matt as if he is an idiot) Retardation.
Matt: Ha. Cool. (he resumes reading) I hope I never meet someone like you whilst being unarmed as it would be an oppor-tun-ity missed, people like you are a threat to the new world order, you should be hunted down and lynched.
Matt discards the letter.
Matt: Pffft. Goddamn neo-nazis. Why are all so unfriendly?
Buzz lets out a staggering burp.
Buzz: They all just need a big cock inside them.
Matt: (unimpressed) It was a guy, not a chick.
Buzz: (lightly) I know.
Leif cuts in as he finds an exciting letter.
Leif: Ooh, Ooh – it’s a letter from Shifty Records! It’s about time someone started paying attention to this band of ours.
Leif rips the letter open and reads from it.
Leif: To whom it may concern, we would like to regretfully inform you that we cannot accept your demo because it is shit.
Matt: Wow. That sucks.
Leif, baffled, turns the letter over several times, as if looking for a punchline and then slams it down on the table angrily.
Leif: That’s it. That’s fucking it!!! We were relying on that to pay our rent. You realize that don’t you Matt? Check that last letter to see if we’ve won the lottery.
Matt quickly picks it up and opens it, as if they have a surefire chance of actually winning the lottery, even though neither of them actually play. Matt looks at it and then throws it away casually.
Matt: Nah, it’s from that crazy farmer down the street, asking me for more child allowance. How much money do lambs fucking need anyway? It’s not like they go to school.
Leif: What are we going to do for money then? Hmm?
Matt: Buzz could sell some of his vital organs.
Buzz: Nah, I don’t have none.
Leif exhales slowly, and shakes his head.
Leif: Well, there’s only one option left then…
TO BE CONTINUED…
Matt: Oh, it’s you.
It is Buzz, a friend of Matt and Leif’s. He is tall, with messy red-hair and a goofy expression plastered across his face, slightly grubby looking and dressed rather poorly in patched-up trousers, unwashed T-shirt and dirty tweed jacket that he has probably found in a dumpster, he wipes his nose loudly on his sleeve and makes a Chimpanzee-like screeching noise instead of saying ‘Hello’. Matt looks unimpressed. He puts the spoon in Buzz’s gaping mouth and turns away from the door.
Buzz
Buzz walks in, not closing the door behind him, Leif watches in dismay as Buzz scratches himself behind the ear and spies a piece of broken wood on the ground, probably from a long-lost chair of Matt or Leif’s. Buzz casually picks up the wood and bites into it, as if testing it’s strength. He discards it in disgust.
Buzz: Needs salt.
Buzz sits down at the table with Matt and Leif. He starts to eat Matt’s abandoned breakfest; a disturbing mix of beer, cat food and jalapeno chillis. Buzz continuously begins to scoop the concoction into his mouth without reaction. Leif watches him, wincing, he turns to Matt.
Leif: Tell your dumbarse friend to fuck off.
Matt: No! You tell your dumbarse friend to fuck off.
They both continue to watch Buzz warily as he finishes off Matt’s bowl of crud. They’re attention is suddenly snapped away as someone knocks on the already open front door, it’s the Mailman.
Mailman: Mail.
Matt jumps up enthusiastically and races over to the door, the Mailman drops the letters to the floor and walks away, Matt calls after him.
Matt: How are you today? Good? Do you want to watch some videos with me?
There is no answer. Matt holds back any possible tears and closes the door, scooping up the letters and dropping them on the table in front of Leif. Leif picks them up and starts to sort through them.
Leif: Bill, bill, rent, bill, ohhhh Matt, you’re stupid penpal from Lithuania has written back to you.
Matt snatches the letter back and hastily opens it, reading from it happily.
Matt: Dear Matt, please do not be corres… corre-sponding, corresponding to me again. Your poem about sheep reduced me to hours of vomiting in disgust, I fear that you suffer from some sort of re-tar… re-tra… Hey Leif, what does that say?
Leif looks at the letter.
Leif: (deadpan, staring at Matt as if he is an idiot) Retardation.
Matt: Ha. Cool. (he resumes reading) I hope I never meet someone like you whilst being unarmed as it would be an oppor-tun-ity missed, people like you are a threat to the new world order, you should be hunted down and lynched.
Matt discards the letter.
Matt: Pffft. Goddamn neo-nazis. Why are all so unfriendly?
Buzz lets out a staggering burp.
Buzz: They all just need a big cock inside them.
Matt: (unimpressed) It was a guy, not a chick.
Buzz: (lightly) I know.
Leif cuts in as he finds an exciting letter.
Leif: Ooh, Ooh – it’s a letter from Shifty Records! It’s about time someone started paying attention to this band of ours.
Leif rips the letter open and reads from it.
Leif: To whom it may concern, we would like to regretfully inform you that we cannot accept your demo because it is shit.
Matt: Wow. That sucks.
Leif, baffled, turns the letter over several times, as if looking for a punchline and then slams it down on the table angrily.
Leif: That’s it. That’s fucking it!!! We were relying on that to pay our rent. You realize that don’t you Matt? Check that last letter to see if we’ve won the lottery.
Matt quickly picks it up and opens it, as if they have a surefire chance of actually winning the lottery, even though neither of them actually play. Matt looks at it and then throws it away casually.
Matt: Nah, it’s from that crazy farmer down the street, asking me for more child allowance. How much money do lambs fucking need anyway? It’s not like they go to school.
Leif: What are we going to do for money then? Hmm?
Matt: Buzz could sell some of his vital organs.
Buzz: Nah, I don’t have none.
Leif exhales slowly, and shakes his head.
Leif: Well, there’s only one option left then…
TO BE CONTINUED…
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