Post by Slick Doctor on Sept 19, 2011 12:13:50 GMT -4
Scene opens in a dimly lit bar. There is only one customer, and as the camera zooms we see its Slick Doctor. There are many empty beer mugs and shot glasses to the side of him. The bartender is wearing an eye patch, and is visibly pissed off. Its the day of the show.
One-Eyed Willie- That's it Slick. You are cut off! It's twelve O clock noon and you can't even remember your own name! Come on man. You finally get a job again and this is how you prepare? Pathetic. Why even bother?
Slick: Hey, hey bro. Lay off. Just bring me one more shot of the Captain, and he will make it happen. HA! Get it? Captain. . . . make it happen? Pure comedy gold! Anyway you wanna know why I came back? Good question . . . .
Slick starts to drift off and we go into a dream sequence . . . .
Slick is in a pool sleeping on a Coors Light raft, with a picture of a woman in a bikini on it. Various party people are hanging out by the pool. The pool is outside of a pretty big mansion. A man in a tuxedo approaches the pool. He calmly raises his voice, as to get Slick's attention. It works. Slick wakes up. He is obviously drunk.
Slick: Oh no, not this guy again. I told you Jeeves, I am happily retired. I have all the titles,all the glory, all the money, all the party I want! I have done everything I possibly could have. What possibly could there be for me?
The man hands Slick a letter. Slick reads it and a look of concern takes over his face.
Slick: Well, old Silvio knows just where my heart is. How dare the AWR ban concessions of beer at every event. What's next, banning string bikini's at the beach? Or banning deep-fried butter from the state fair? This is un-American. This is un-North American! This is un-Western Hemisphere! This is un-NATO. This is un-
Scene fades back into real life.
Slick: Sometimes you gotta fight for what's right. Fight for what's right, fight for your lifffffe.
(Slick plays the air guitar for a full 2 minutes.)
Slick: You wanna know what else isn't right? Some fat-ass so called "playboy" walking around here in his euro speedo's eating up all the pre-match spread of food. He never leaves any stinking roast beef for the rest of us. Plus he talks about getting chicks and stuff. The way he talks, youd think he has a Sellick moustache. But the only thing he has is a trailer park belly. It is nasty. Every time he walks by, I smell a distinct odor of limburger cheese. Nasty. I think he may store some int hat side roll of his. He makes Bastion Booger seem like Rick Rude! Disgusting! So tonight, I'm gonna make this boy pay. And then I am gonna bring the soap and water and make him sparkle! And then I am gonna come right back here so have the drinks bold and cold.
Looks around the bar, and then turns to the bartender. . .
Slick: Hey Willie, can I borrow a mop?
Scene fades with Slick walking out of the bar with a mop and pail.
One-Eyed Willie- That's it Slick. You are cut off! It's twelve O clock noon and you can't even remember your own name! Come on man. You finally get a job again and this is how you prepare? Pathetic. Why even bother?
Slick: Hey, hey bro. Lay off. Just bring me one more shot of the Captain, and he will make it happen. HA! Get it? Captain. . . . make it happen? Pure comedy gold! Anyway you wanna know why I came back? Good question . . . .
Slick starts to drift off and we go into a dream sequence . . . .
Slick is in a pool sleeping on a Coors Light raft, with a picture of a woman in a bikini on it. Various party people are hanging out by the pool. The pool is outside of a pretty big mansion. A man in a tuxedo approaches the pool. He calmly raises his voice, as to get Slick's attention. It works. Slick wakes up. He is obviously drunk.
Slick: Oh no, not this guy again. I told you Jeeves, I am happily retired. I have all the titles,all the glory, all the money, all the party I want! I have done everything I possibly could have. What possibly could there be for me?
The man hands Slick a letter. Slick reads it and a look of concern takes over his face.
Slick: Well, old Silvio knows just where my heart is. How dare the AWR ban concessions of beer at every event. What's next, banning string bikini's at the beach? Or banning deep-fried butter from the state fair? This is un-American. This is un-North American! This is un-Western Hemisphere! This is un-NATO. This is un-
Scene fades back into real life.
Slick: Sometimes you gotta fight for what's right. Fight for what's right, fight for your lifffffe.
(Slick plays the air guitar for a full 2 minutes.)
Slick: You wanna know what else isn't right? Some fat-ass so called "playboy" walking around here in his euro speedo's eating up all the pre-match spread of food. He never leaves any stinking roast beef for the rest of us. Plus he talks about getting chicks and stuff. The way he talks, youd think he has a Sellick moustache. But the only thing he has is a trailer park belly. It is nasty. Every time he walks by, I smell a distinct odor of limburger cheese. Nasty. I think he may store some int hat side roll of his. He makes Bastion Booger seem like Rick Rude! Disgusting! So tonight, I'm gonna make this boy pay. And then I am gonna bring the soap and water and make him sparkle! And then I am gonna come right back here so have the drinks bold and cold.
Looks around the bar, and then turns to the bartender. . .
Slick: Hey Willie, can I borrow a mop?
Scene fades with Slick walking out of the bar with a mop and pail.