What Are We Gonna Do With All This Trash?: Pete Vs. Pat: The Makings of a Conversation**

October 01, 2007

Pete Vs. Pat: The Makings of a Conversation**

Pete, engaged in a phone call, walks up to Pat

Pete (on phone): ...I don't care if you didn't hear me the first time! I said it once and now it's lost in forever. That's all I have to say about the subject. Good day! [hangs up]
(to Pat): What are you looking at douche bag?

Pat: Why are you always so hostile?

Pete: It's what I'm paid to do! I need confrontation to keep me alive! What the hell do you do for a living, video tape FDA meetings, legal depositions, and interpretative dance - Glen Burnie style?

Pat: Watch your step, buddy.

Pete: I bet lawyers and doctors are incredibly fun to listen to, huh? What's that like? And approximately how many dance numbers have you seen performed to "We're All In This Together" from High School Musical?

Pat: It's like getting verbal lobotomies and more than 20, respectively. Man, that sure is some thin ice you're trampling on...

Pete: And, oh yeah, what are you studying again? Some form of so-called social science? Ha! Do they even pay people to do that shit? Social scientists are even less trustworthy than real scientists!

Pat: Nothing is an exact science. Now please, let go of my feelings.

Pete: You're wasting my valuable time, butt crust. The real reason I came here was to give you this...

Pat: Craig Biggio's rookie baseball card?

Pete: It's to remind you how horribly, horribly old you have to be to have independent knowledge of the beginning and ending of some dude's 20 year baseball career. And to remind you what a giant nerd you are because you probably already have this stashed away somewhere, don't you?

Pat: You're a magnificent bastard.

Pete: And every day is payday. Lates!

both leave

**This one scene play was brought to you by HYPE. Turn your idea or product into a steaming pile of it!

2 comments:

Marie Debris said...: you need help baby; 6:57 PM
Scrap Heap Pete said...: Who doesn't?; 8:34 AM

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A History Of Trash

Trash, at first, was a pretty cool guy. You know, he’d come over with some beers, and you’d hang out and have a couple of laughs. Maybe Trash brought some weed with him, and you guys tried to sync up Dark Side Of The Moon with The Wizard Of Oz until you remembered you lost your VHS copy of that movie sometime in college and that you fucking hate Pink Floyd. Good times were had, nonetheless.

But then, you don’t know what changed, but Trash started to overstay his welcome. He’d just linger for hours, never taking the hint you wanted him to leave, no matter how many times you yawned obnoxiously or mentioned how early you had to get up tomorrow. Trash just didn’t get it. You were getting older. You didn’t have the time anymore to stay up until 3 a.m. to talk about the Port season of “The Wire” or how much you miss Jawbox. Eventually, you just stopped taking Trash’s phone calls and no longer replied to his group e-mails about sneaking into abandoned mental hospitals.

Last time you saw Trash, he was smoking alone outside a local dive bar, looking down at his decaying and mismatched shoes. You hoped he had been doing well. You hoped he had not been hurt by the disintegration of your friendship. And if he had, you wanted to comfort him. You wanted to tell him that even though people move on with their lives, it doesn’t mean they stop caring. You wanted him to see in your eyes a sincere appreciation for the time you shared, because all the relationships in our lives help make us who we are, and even if you weren’t the best of friends anymore, you wanted him to know that there would always be a piece of Trash in your heart.

But instead, you looked away and crossed the street. You were with your new girlfriend, and you really didn’t want to have to explain Trash to her. She’d never understand.