Midnite: Beckot revisitot (avec Mojot)...
Pilgrim is standing outside the clubhouse, waiting for the rest of his six-some so they can tee off.
PILGRIM: (To himself, as he is a half-wit.) Well, it is just only nine a.m., and although no one has yet arrived, we have a nine forty-five tee time and I'm certain my friends will duly arrive, as they are consciensious and caring, and only Pueblo and Prod-Man transmitted electronic mail thingys advising that they would not be able to attend.
He begins stretching his lower proximity as Barnes strides prominently around the corner, his frisbee-golf disc bag thingy slung properly over one shoulder, and the promise of victory etched across his bewildered face.
BARNES: Jesus, what day is it?
Pilgrim turns back and forth, looking for the Messiah.
PILGRIM: Is he here? Are we playing a round with Jesus? Oh, man, I brought the sandwedge but no wine, you know I'm on the wagon.
BARNES: No, not Jesus, not Jesus! I just mean, you know, Christ, it's so early it feels like yesterday.
PILGRIM: Yesterday? Is it yesterday? You mean I'm early? (Thinking) Hey, isn't Christ the same as Jesus?
BARNES: Pilgrim, it's still today. I just mean it feels like yesterday.
PILGRIM: Well, it does; it does at that. Maybe it's the daylight saving time, does that effect the day or only the week? And what about this, even if it is today, is our game today? Or was it yesterday? I'm losing track. Who knows these things?
BARNES: I'm sure it's today, I wouldn't be here otherwise.
PILGRIM: True-dat. But where is everyone else? Surely they can't all be wrong.
BARNES: Not wrong, just late. (And don't call me Shirley.)
Barnes pulls cellophane from his backpack, dials Rear-Den.
BARNES: (Into the cellophane) Rear-Den, where are you? (Pause, as Rear-Den Rear-sponds.) Home in bed? Back still out of whack? Okay, if we need one you'll show? Great. Go back to sleep, I'll call if we need you.
PILGRIM: Who was that?
BARNES: Rear-Den. Home in bed. Back's still out of whack. If we need one he'll show. He's going back to sleep. We'll call if we need him.
Slice arrives from the coffee arcade across the street, bearing a tall container of Java, which he drinks from when motivated by thirst or indecision.
SLICE: Hey guys.
PILGRIM: Yo, Slice. Hey, is it today or yesterday by your watch? If its not too late we might be early.
BARNES: We're not early, everyone else is late.
PILGRIM: I hope not, otherwise we might not make our tee-time.
SLICE: Oh, well, no tea for me, I brought coffee.
BARNES: What about Germy, is he coming?
SLICE: I don't think so, he's between relationships.
PILGRIM: Yeah, he'll be here, I'm sure he checked with the Web Psych, else he would have called me for the tee time.
BARNES: Maybe he's meeting us at the first tee?
PILGRIM: Nah, he said it's easier to meet here, something about Masked Bandit leaving him closer to the clubhouse than to the tee.
SLICE: Those super heroes are everywhere these days.
BARNES: I think he meant mass transit, Barnes.
SLICE: Wait, whose Barnes, me or you?
PILGRIM: Well, you can't lump in Batman with Superman. Superman didn't wear a mask.
SLICE: But what about Shorty, he's coming, right?
PILGRIM: Nah, Shorty's not coming.
BARNES: No show?
SLICE: Not coming?
PILGRIM: Not coming, no Shorty, no Mojot, no show Joe.
Barnes reaches for his cellophane but thinks better of it.
BARNES: Don't know about Shorty.
PILGRIM: Come to think, he HAS to be coming, he sent an e-thingy saying he was in for the greens fees.
SLICE: He said he was in, he didn't say for which week.
BARNES: That's true.
PILGRIM: Yeah, he ain't coming.
SLICE: What about Freddy Flintstone?
PILGRIM: He'll be here, he's dependable.
BARNES: He is, but he called this morning, couldn't get a babysitter for Pebbles & Bam-Bam.
SLICE: Oh Man! What about his friend Irec-Shin?
PILGRIM: That's Would-He, Barnes.
BARNES: I'm Barnes, he's Slice. And Would-He won't be. Sprained his erect shin playing round-ball.
SLICE: (with sideways glance and clenched teeth: New-Man!)
PILGRIM: (checking his watch) Well, it's too late now, it's past the forfeit time.
BARNES: I wonder if the other team showed?
PILGRIM: That puts the kaibosh on our winning record.
SLICE: Kai-bosh?
PILGRIM: No thanks, I'm trying to quit.
BARNES: Yeah, I just wish those guys would have told us they weren't gonna show, I could have stayed in bed.
SLICE: Not to mention my girl got up and left because I had this game.
PILGRIM: Yeah, me too, I had to step away from my computer screen for this. Jesus, people are gonna think I have half a life.
BARNES: What's the half-life of half a life?
PILGRIM: What's the shelf-life of a shelf?
SLICE: Let's not be so shelfish?
PILGRIM: I'm allergic to crustaceons.
BARNES: We'd better go.
SLICE: Yeah, let's leave.
PILGRIM: That's it, we're outta here.
They do not move.
-CURTAIN-
(Heard from off-stage:)
BARNES: Do we know what time next week's game is?
PILGRIM: I won't know till Thursday morning.
SLICE: That's not too long to wait.
BARNES: Long as it doesn't rain.
PILGRIM: Forecast calls for showers.
BARNES: Yeah, but they're never right...
Fade to black...
(Heard from the blackness:)
SLICE: (Well, at least we're still in the playoffs...)
Roll Debits...
Posted by cronish at April 21, 2002 01:10 PM