lunes, 6 de diciembre de 2010

Joe Versus the Volcano

*Joe Banks returns to the office after learning that he has "brain cloud" and that he's going to die*

Mr. Waturi: *on phone* No... No... *looks at Joe, then looks at his watch* You were wrong... He was wrong... Who said that? I didn't say that... If I had said that, I would've been wrong... I would've been wrong, isn't that right, Harry?

*Joe is about to hang his hat like he does every day, but he changes his mind and throws his hat in the garbage bin*

I'm not arguing that with you... I'm not arguing that with you!

*Joe is walking around the office, teasing his coworkers. Mr. Waturi is watching him*

I'm not arguing that with you!!

Listen, let me call you back, I've got something here, okay? And don't tell him anything till we finish our conversation, okay?

*Joe starts playing with an artificial arm*


*Joe is hand wrestling with the artificial arm*

Joe Banks: Yeah?

Mr. Waturi: You were at lunch three hours.

Joe Banks: Yeah, about that... *muttering* "Uh, where is my friend... where is my friend... Mr. Waturi... Mr. Waturi..."

*slaps him softly in the forehead*

*Joe wanders away, into his office. Mr. Waturi looks after*

Mr. Waturi: This is company property Mr.!

*Joe is opening a drain with a big DO NOT TOUCH sign on it*

Joe don’t touch that!! What are you doing!

Joe Banks: I'm opening or closing the main drain.

Mr. Waturi: *afraid* You shouldn't be touching that, Joe.

Joe Banks: Nothing happened... You know how long I wondered what would happen if I did that?

Mr. Waturi: What's the matter with you?

Joe Banks: Brain cloud.

Mr. Waturi: What?

Joe Banks: Never mind. Listen, Mr. Waturi. Frank. I quit.

*starts to take some stuff out of his desk*

Mr. Waturi: You mean, today?

Joe Banks: That's right.

Mr. Waturi: That's great. Well, don't come looking for a reference from me.

Joe Banks: Okay, I won't... *takes a book* Robinson Crusoe...

Mr. Waturi: You blew this job.

Joe Banks: *takes some more books* Romeo and Juliet... the Odyssey...

Mr. Waturi: You blew this job!!!

Joe Banks: Ukulele... I've been working here for four and a half years. The work I did I probably could've done in five, six months. That leaves four years leftover.

*walks towards the front door. Mr. Waturi follows him in. Joe stops at Dede's desk*

... four years. If I had them now... like gold in my hand. Here. This is for you. *gives Dede the lamp* Goodbye, Dede.

Dede: You're going?

Mr. Waturi: Well, if you're leaving, leave. You'll get your check. And, I promise you, you'll be easy to replace!

Joe Banks: I should say something...

Mr. Waturi: What are you muttering?

Joe Banks: This... life. Life? What a joke. This situation... this room...

Mr. Waturi: Joe, maybe you should just... go

Joe Banks: You look terrible, Mr. Waturi. You look like a bag of shit stuffed in a cheap suit. Not that anyone could look good under these zombie lights. I can feel them sucking the juice outta my eyeballs. Suck, suck, suck, suck, suck!! *makes sucking noises, Dede giggles* Three hundred bucks a week, that's the news. For three hundred bucks a week I've lived in this sink. This used rubber...

Mr. Waturi: You watch it, mister! There's a woman here!

Joe Banks: Don't you think I know that, Frank? Don't you think I'm aware that there is a woman here? I can smell her like a flower... I can taste her like sugar on my tongue. When I'm twenty feet away, I can hear the fabric of her dress when she moves in her chair. Not that I've done anything about it. I've gone all day, every day, not doing, not saying, not taking the chance for three hundred dollars a week... and Frank the coffee... stinks! It tastes like arsenic, these lights give me a headache... If the lights don't give you a headache you must be dead, so let's arrange the funeral!

Mr. Waturi: You- better get outta here! I'm telling you!

Joe Banks: You're not telling me nothing.

Mr. Waturi: I'm telling you!

Joe Banks: And why! I ask myself, why have I put up with you? I can't imagine... but I know. It's fear. Yellow freakin' fear. I've been too chicken shit afraid to live my life so I sold it to you for three hundred freakin' dollars a week! You're lucky I don't kill you! You're lucky I don't rip your freakin' throat out! But I'm not going to! And maybe you're not so lucky at that... 'cause I'm gonna leave you here, Mister Wa-a-Waturi... and what could be worse than that?

*Joe opens the door and leaves. Mr. Waturi and Dede are frozen. The door reopens and Joe comes halfway back in*


Dede: Yeah?

Joe Banks: How 'bout dinner tonight?

Dede: Yeah, okay.

*Joe leaves*

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