.
[Our opening voice over is played to the lovely backdrop of a camera panning overhead across the large piece of land know as the Rafter Villas in beautiful Venice Beach, California. Not many people can be seen on the ground. For a few seconds we just pan across the scene. Then sudden we hear the voice of the Icon.]
Lex:(Ahh so Marquis has chosen to stay silent. not sure weather or not this is a good thing. For him I mean. Words are just that anyway. And words don't mean much when they aren't backed up by action. So maybe the Marquis, knowing full well he will have the biggest match of his life Wednesday night has decided to let his actions speak for him. If so that is admirable. But...the most likely reason for you sudden silence is that you're scared. Not something I admire. But it isn't something I hold against you. Better men than yourself have feared stepping in the ring with the Icon. You'll receive no pity for being weak. You and your friends are trying - in vain - to destroy what I have built. You have to pay for that. And you shall.
Mace how jaded you are. I've never whined about my two loses at your hands. Even when you don't acknowledge the one lost you have at mine. I called it exactly as it is. A fluke. Nothing more. Nothing less. You actually wonder why I dominate your thoughts? I've wondered that myself. Everytime I hear your voice not much later I hear you speak my name. You and Black being from the land of filth must have let the smog infest your brains, because you both use the same twisted logic. 'I'm higher than you are in the world title rankings. Doh! Two plus two equals 5, I'm better than you!' Wow. It really is amazing how you clones work. Same recycled putdowns and all.
But you did make one valid point. When we do meet again if you manage to defeat me cleanly...I will concede that you are the better man. Yes! You heard it here first. The Icon will infact raise your hand. Don't bet on that happening. All the reasons why have been laid out to you before. And seeing as how I am the number one contender to your useless title, I'll take this opportunity to do what Miss Black has been doing lately and issue a challenge. Me and you. It can be title versus title. If you want. Though I doubt you want to lose your little belt. So it can be non-title. Eitherway. As long as it's just me and you in a good old fashion wrestling match. What do you say Mace. Marquis then Black [AGAIN] then you. Easy enough for even you to answer. A simple yes or no will do.
Speaking of Lady Black. You mention that your manhood shouldn't come into question because like a man after I beat you, you shook my hand. I acknowledged that fact. But that wasn't my original point. My original point was that you whine too damn much. And you make stupid comments that you try to dress up to make witty and clever. I'm becoming a clone? No. The biggest attribute of a clone is mediocrity. That is why on any given night any of you can defeat the other. That is not the case with me. I step in the ring. I win. Simple as that. With very little exception. My win-lose record is incomparable. But not to worry Black. We'll meet again. Non-title and you'll lose again, because when it comes down to it 'talent' defeats 'asshole' any day of the week. You and your four world title reigns. Should you really be patting yourself on the back for that? You and your one week title reigns just prove my transitional champion point. Just words Black. Even if all of the sudden you do become less moronic and say something clever, you'll still be a talentless has been. Women!)
[Lex begins to laugh as we fade out.]
.
One Weird Night II: Dolemite & the Secret Service
.
[Our scene re-opens up outside on the ground level of our original scene. The sun is almost all the way down now. Lex, Laura, Rachel, Max, Maria and Xavier are sitting in-between four huge beach houses. They're around a table chatting and laughing.]
-=Lex=- He's still funny as hell. Definitely worth the trip to Cleveland.
-=Max=- But he had to pretend to like Xavier just to sell t-shirts. That isn't right. And the little club wasn't even sold-out.
-=Maria=- You should already know that Dolemite isn't everyone's cup of tea.
[Xavier looks at Maria like she just said a bad word. He takes his Dolemite VERY seriously.]
-=Xavier=- Rudy Ray 'He's not here to brag. He's not here to boast. He could jerk off on a tombstone and produce baby ghost' Moore!
[Maria sighs as the rest of them chuckle.]
-=Xavier=- What we should have 'already known' is that people with the most disposable income have a hard time telling when something's good. How can Dolemite be playing some tiny club in a nightmare neighborhood in Cleveland, and still not sell it out, when just a few countries away, David Hasselhoff is filling stadiums?! And not filling them with people watching him rescue and resuscitate hot girls in bikinis, but people listening to him sing. For less money than it takes to buy David Hasselhoff the Ancient Chinese face cream he demands before he'll come out on stage, Rudy Ray Moore could make you nineteen kung-fu movies about karate hookers laying siege to a disco. Dolemite should run this goddamn country! He should have the money to get David Hasselhoff himself melted down and made into a cream and the power to get away with it. What kind of fucked up bizarro world do we live in when Steven Segal is the one who's 'Above the Law', and Rudy Ray Moore is the one sitting on a folding chair and pretending to be nice to Max just so he'll buy a fifteen dollar t-shirt? What kind of God would allow it? That's right. None! Checkmate, Pope!
[Lex and Max nod and yell 'Here! Here!' the women just stare in amazement for a few moments before Rachel finally adds...]
-=Rachel=- You're insane.
-=Maria=- Told you.
-=Laura=- What was the joke?
-=Max=- Let me tell it.
-=Lex=- Proceed.
-=Max=- The other night I was fucking a deaf and dumb girl. She wanted me to stop, so she says to me "AHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAFFFF!" So I cut her fingers off so she couldn't call the cops!
-=Lex=- Awesome! Rudy Ray Moore is the man!
-=Laura=- You're *all* insane!
[Xavier was very emotional about Rudy Ray Moore. If you hadn't noticed by now, things aren't as they seem.]
-=Xavier=- And there wasn't a single person in the club who wasn't laughing. Hard. That's how charming Rudy Ray Moore is. He can tell a joke where the setup is him raping a deaf and dumb girl, and the punchline is him mutilating her, and it's funny. If anyone else tried that, it'd be a disaster. Let's say Bob Barker, who is undeniably charming, tried to transition one of his pet-neutering speeches into a monologue about him sexually assaulting a handicapped girl. He'd be replaced by a Technical Difficulties screen before he could even get to the part where he starts chopping her fingers off.
-=Lex=- You fucking right!
-=Maria=- Where are the men with white suits when you need them?
-=Max=- Though handicap doesn't mean "beautiful". I mean yeah they have a beautiful human spirit, but what's that good for?
-=Rachel=- That's cruel.
-=Laura=- Not only that, but it's insensitive.
-=Lex=- But it's true. For example; Stephen Hawking has a great spirit. But unless scientists figure out a way for me to screw somebody's hot-ass human spirit, I can't even begin to imagine the line of rape-reasoning whose endpoint is me humping Stephen Hawking. Unless he attacked me first. Even then though, I'd probably just walk behind his wheelchair and wail on the back of his head with my fists. 'Here's a science lesson for ya,' I'd say, 'Just because you sound like a robot, that doesn't mean you're an indestructible metal monster. You're lucky none of your colleagues have invented a way for me to fuck the inviolable human spirit, because you got a reeeeaaaal pretty one.' Then I'd give him one of my special wind-up punches to his neck. Later, someone would say 'where's Dr. Hawking?' and I'd be all tired and grimy from the fight and I'd hiss 'He's working on a new math problem...' Then I'd kind of squint and take a long drag off my cigarette. 'Every time he tries to add his fucking bullshit, he has to subtract my foot from his ass!' Then I'd smile.
[Everyone begins howling with laughter. What the hell is going on you ask? Just keep watching.]
-=Lex=- I'm awesome like that.
-=Laura=- You're awesome like Coyote Ugly.
-=Max=- Ouch!
-=Xavier=- That reminds me!
-=Maria=- Here we go.
-=Xavier=- You ever hear me and Max do Jerry Buckheimer approving Coyote Ugly?
-=Lex=- Nah.
[Maria and Rachel say in unison.]
-=Maria & Rachel=- I have!
-=Laura=- Ahh. So let's hear it.
-=Xavier=- I'm Jerry. Max is the person who wrote the script for Coyote Ugly. He's pitching it to me.
-=Lex=- Shoot.
-=Xavier=- So, let me get this straight: This script is about a strip club where the four employees don't take off their clothes. And they're too busy dancing - completely dressed - on top of the bar to serve anyone a drink. Yet the bar is so popular that there's a giant line to get in. I sent the script to the people who wrote Gilligan's Island and they sent it back with a note that said "This is fucking preposterous!"
-=Max=- You didn't like the lead character's struggle against her own fears? Fucks yo problem?
[Lex and Laura laugh.]
-=Xavier=- Let's talk about that. It says here that she's an aspiring songwriter with terrible, terrible stage fright. Yet she's willing to take a job at a strip club where she'll have to stand on a bar and sing songs in front of a room packed with sailor rapists and bikers every night. Do you know what "stage fright" means?
-=Max=- At first, I thought it meant afraid of spiders. But if you'd just read the script, you'll see where I crossed out all the parts where she goes to the big city to win the spider killing competition and then wins it, and added the parts where she has the kind of stage fright where you're only afraid to sing songs you wrote yourself.
-=Xavier=- So, you still don't know what stage fright means.
-=Max=- Not totally. But did you get to the part where she has a boyfriend? And the boyfriend is tortured by a dark secret and he even had to leave Australia because of his dark secret and eventually he reveals that he can't go out with her anymore because of his dark secret?
-=Xavier=- That was kind of interesting. But I couldn't find the scene where you reveal his dark secret.
-=Max=- You missed the part where he tells her he's an orphan?
-=Xavier=- ...What the fuck?
-=Max=- He's an orphan!
-=Xavier=- I thought that was just a placeholder. Like screenwriter shorthand for "put dark secret here". Are you sure he isn't a ghost or a fag or has a tail?
-=Max=- He's an orphan! How awesome is that?!
-=Xavier=- Not very. But, okay. All through the script, you have a running joke about how the main character's father is bad at doing laundry. I liked that all the way up to page ninety where the father goes to the wedding and the daughter sees him and she notices that he's not wearing any socks. She asks him why, and he says he "had a disagreement with the dryer." Does this mean what I think it does?
-=Max=- He put the dryer on the setting that burns up clothes by accident. He's wacky!
-=Xavier=- ...Riiiiiight. You've never actually used a dryer, have you?
-=Max=- No need. My stuff drip drys.
-=Xavier=- There's no button on a dryer that will destroy a sock.
-=Max=- Fuck you mean?
-=Xavier=- Uhh..you're kinda insane. Why would I ever make this shitty movie?
-=Max=- You made the Rock and Con Air.
-=Xavier=- True. You'll have a fifty million dollar budget and John Goodman from that spider movie as the wacky fat-ass with the dryer that eats his socks.
[Lex and Laura applaud. Rachel and Maria sigh.]
-=Xavier=- Thank you. Thank you.
=Max=- The Coyote Ugly Website let's you see what your Coyote Ugly name will be.
-=Xavier=- Yeah. That website is wacked. My name would be Sara Liquid.
-=Lex=- We're wasting too much time.
-=Max=- You're right. We have to get ready to meet the Secret Service.
-=Lex=- To the Motel 6. If we don't return...uhhh...The President had us wacked.
-=Xavier=- That's kinda cool!
-=Max=- Yeah. Let's go.
-=Maria=- Have fun.
-=Rachel=- Yeah don't forget to tell the President I said hi.
-=Xavier=- You think we're joking? Show them the Secret Service tag, Lex.
[Lex taps his back pocket then his front. Ahh there it goes. He pulls out what looks like a tag you put on your hotel room door. You know the one that say Do Not Disturb or Clean Please. It's from a Motel 6. Laura grabs it and chuckles as she shows it to Rachel and Maria.]
-=Laura=- This is a Motel 6 door tag.
-=Lex=- Turn it around.
[She does. Maria reads it aloud. On the other side it says...]
-=Maria=- 'Dear Mr. Rafter. We at the United States Secret Service would like to met with you and your three younger brothers, Xavier Rafter, Max Rafter and Ace Rodgers privately at the hotel on the back of this letter. Time and date will be given to you at a later time and date. We'll contact you.' Signed the Secret Service.
[They looked slightly shocked. But they don't stop chuckling.]
-=Max=- That was last week.
-=Lex=- Told you.
-=Rachel=- Come on, Lex. While it is very elaborate it's hardly believable.
-=Lex=- Let her hear the phone call Xavier.
[Xavier pulls a small tape recorder out of his pocket.]
-=Xavier=- Listen to this.
[He presses play. The voice on the other end is very monotone.]
-=Secret Service Agent=- Hello Mr. Rafter. I don't have much time, so I'll make this brief. You and your three brothers have been added to our watch list.
-=Lex=- Why?
-=SSA=- Some of your comments.
-=Lex=- Fucking Xavier and his promo with a plan to kill the President.
-=SSA=- We demand a face-to-face with all four of you Mr. Rafter.
-=Lex=- I don't take too kindly to demands.
-=SSA=- Excuse me. All we request is an interview with you and your younger brothers, sir.
-=Lex=- No problem. When and where?
[Xavier stops the tape.]
-=Xavier=- That's when he told us to meet him at the Motel 6 downtown in what is three hours from now.
[The women all look like they believe now. Somewhat. Lex, Max and Xavier don't give them time to talk them out of it. They just leave. Fade out.]
-=Victor=-(What the hell is going on?!)
[Our scene re-re-opens up twenty minutes later with a shot of a Motel 6. We fade down from the sign into the room Lex, Xavier, Ace and Max occupy. Ace just seems to show up doesn't he? The room is empty. No bed. No nothing, except a bookcase and a table with six chairs. Poker?!?! No! They're sitting around, kinda nervous. Preparing for the Government's visit took some intense plotting. Max's plan was that they'd each wear beige pants, each drink a gallon of water beforehand, then, as the agents walked in the door, simultaneously empty their bladders right into their tan slacks. He thought the expanding wet spot was a widely recognized symbol of fear and respect.]
-=Xavier=- Uhh...Let's make that Plan B.
[Ace's idea was that they would simply bribe them with sex.]
-=Ace=- This plan hinges on precision timing, and that all the agents they send are corrupt. And gay.
-=Max=- And they're attracted to Xavier.
[Max had to add. That'll show him to make his plan, plan B!]
-=Lex=- I'm not having sex with them!
-=Max=- Hmm...an attraction to Xavier? Those are long odds, but we've got two hours to doll Ace up, and I've got a can't-miss beauty regimen: Ace, take off your glasses.
[Ace took them off. Max walked around him in a circle, rubbing his chin.]
-=Max=- Well, that didn't work. I guess we can always fall back on precision timing.
-=Lex=- This is insane. Everyone knows the key to getting the dork to look like a stud is tearing the sleeves off his shirt. Actually, fuck that. Keep your sleeves on. Nobody here wants to kill the president. It's just a fucking mixup.
-=Ace=- I'm sexy! What the hell is wrong with you?!
-=Xavier=- Riiight.
-=Max=- Plan B it is then. Let's practice! Everyone hold hands.
-=Lex=- No no no... Wait.
[Lex said while he wriggled his fist out of Max's white-knuckled death grip.]
-=Lex=- Look, we'll just tell them the truth. It's obvious we don't want to kill the President.
-=Ace=- Won't work. I like Max's plan.
-=Max=- Thank you Ace!
-=Xavier=- How is it obvious that we don't want to kill the President?
[Lex smiled.]
-=Lex=- Because, baby, the President's still alive.
[As he finished, he did a quick draw on Ace with a gun made out of his thumb and forefinger. He winked so Ace wouldn't be scared, but it was too late. Ace quivered slightly, before Max slapped him in the back of the head. Fade out.]
-=Lex=-(When the agents arrived, we were a little bit disappointed. Our phone contact and the one heart we could never tame was a 40-year old man that came up to my shoulder and was mostly bald. The 'muscle' he brought with him for backup was a nervous, fidgety guy named Tony who looked exactly like Ben Stiller. So much like Ben Stiller that we thought Ben Stiller might have been researching a role for a movie where he plays a guy that has a really crappy job at the Secret Service.
I expected Hannibal Lecter and Dr. Doom. I expected some psychiatric genius who'd get inside my head and yank out my darkest fears until I started crying, a man who'd pull parts of my family out of a plastic bag until I got so scared I confessed to crimes against presidents I've never even heard of. Like Zachary Taylor or the really fat one. No, they sent along a guy named [I swear to God] Special Agent Smith. Yeah, nice alias, mystery man. I told him I was John Doe, and Ace and Max were funnyman John Doe and newcomer John Doe. And that Xavier was gay if they were into that kind of stuff.)
[Our scene reopens two hours and 35 minutes later or so says the caption. The two agents Lex were talking about are standing as Lex, Ace, Xavier and Max are sitting. Agent Smith spoke first.]
-=Agent Smith=- We're not here to play games, Mr. Rafter.
-=Lex=-(This confused me. How did he know we were kidding? If he could recognize a joke, why the fuck would he even be here? Where was this keen joke-spotting ability when 'Agent Smith' was watching Xavier's promos and thought it was a terrorist group's manifesto? Yeah, something here didn't feel right, so I decided to abandon all our plans and start crying.
This inspired Ace to execute Plan B. The agents weren't interested in Ace to begin with, but they became sort of conspicuously not interested in him at this point. Even though he stood ramrod straight in the center of the room as he did his business, they avoided looking in his direction the way your grandmother would... Well, there really isn't a better analogy than the way you'd avoid looking at someone who's currently wetting himself and clearly doing it for your benefit. Max tried to jump out the window, but accidentally thought a bookcase was the window. At press time, Max is still lying alone in a twisted lump at the bottom of a pile of books. Notice how dark it is in there? Agent Smith pulled a spotlight closer to my face. I thought it was to find one of the buttons I took off his jacket and put in my nose, but it was just an interrogation technique he must have seen someone use on Rambo or some shit. He demanded...)
-=Agent Smith=- Were you ever arrested for anything?
-=Lex=- (I thought back. I remember getting a harsh scolding from a policeman for getting caught fucking in my car, and once again for talking to a Mexican guy who was incriminatingly Mexican in a town where they hate that. I didn't get arrested either time, but do you remember when you went to college? Neither do I. I could have been arrested on any number of nights and not had any idea it ever happened. So just in case, I told Agent Smith...)
-=Lex=- I don't recall being arrested. At least not for anything having to do with Presidents. Unless you're talking about President Maddog 20/20 and his Parliament of Indecent Exposure.
-=Lex=-(Agent Smith wasn't happy with my answer, but he smiled. He had a miniature secret agent electronic spy ace up his sleeve. A little trick he learned from my grade school principal when he wanted a confession, but didn't pay close enough attention to Matlock to know how to get one. He said... )
-=Agent Smith=- If you HAVE BEEN arrested, we'll find out about it.
-=Lex=- Aren't you guys going to be busy looking for incriminating fart jokes on the Ugly Dudes on Go-Karts Homepage?
-=Lex=-(Agent Smith repeated his threat[?] in a sterner voice...)
-=Agent Smith=- Listen... if you've been arrested, we WILL find out.
-=Lex=- Is that going to piss you off? Like would a parking ticket be the final brick in the case you're building against me? Or ---
-=Xavier=- More like the final brick in the FLIMSY HOUSE OF CARDS OF GUILT you're building against him!
-=Lex=-(Xavier yelled. Agent Smith and I both looked over at him. Xavier waved, thought for a second, then screamed "Attica!" while still waving.)
-=Lex=- Or will you just check to make sure I never killed the leader of any countries?
-=Lex=-(Agent Smith started to say something, but I interrupted him.)
-=Lex=- Hey, wait. You guys are like the government. You have all that shit you took from the aliens you keep in (Beeeeeep). I bet your watch is a total Dick Tracy Watch. You could probably just download my files and DNA onto it with a voice command. Whoa whoa, hold on. Hit record on your watch.
-=Agent Smith=- I can't hit... damn it, this is just a watch.
-=Lex=- This is Lex Rafter speaking to Secret Service via Special Agent Smith's ElectraComm Watch. Ace has peed his pants! Repeat: Ace has peed his pants! Ha ha ha ha!
-=Xavier=- Ha ha ha! Attention ElectraComm Watch!
[Xavier screamed from across the table.]
-=Xavier=- I want to kill the President.
[Now both the agents had no choice but to look directly at him.]
-=Xavier=- Of Iraq! HA!
[He smiled and gave the agents the thumbs up and said...]
-=Xavier=- Fuck Iran, too! Down with Bin Laden!
-=Lex=-(Agent Smith put his watch hand in his pocket and told me he was going to shoot me. I sat still and looked around the room trying to not move my lips when I mumbled, "mmphh! Agent Smith! mmph! This is central command! mmmph! Take the watch out of your pocket! We can't... breathe!
Agent Smith decided to finally get to the point.)
-=Agent Smith=- Do you want to harm the President?
-=Xavier=- ...Of IRAQ!
-=Agent Smith=- Of the United States!
-=Lex=- Harm him? Why the hell---
-=Xavier=- I want to kill the President!
[Xavier interrupted. Agent Smith wearily cocked his head a little towards him.]
-=Xavier=- Of the United States
[Xavier added, and Agent Smith started to get up reaching for his gun.]
-=Xavier=- Of Germany!
[Xavier screamed.]
-=Xavier=- The President of United States of Nazi Germany! HA!
-=Lex=-(Yeah I laughed. Rubbing his forehead like someone had just shot a bb at it, Smith sat back down and asked me again...)
-=Agent Smith=- Do you want to harm the President?
-=Lex=- No.
[Agent Smith scribbled something in his notebook that seemed a lot longer than "No."]
-=Agent Smith=- So when you decided to blow up the White House, were you hoping the President was inside?
-=Lex=- That would have been ni...wait no!
-=Agent Smith=- Aha! So you want to blow up the White House!
-=Lex=-(I've been talking for 27 years now, so I could tell that Agent Smith was playing games with me. But since he had a gun and Ben Stiller was holding a button that said "BLOW UP SUSPECT," I decided to start stuttering.
Agent Smith felt like he was starting to get the upper hand and scribbled something in his notebook that was obviously just a couple page-size swirls. Xavier shouted...)
-=Xavier=- Nice word, Agent Smith! What language is that? Dipshit language? Ha ha ha... Did you go to dipshit school?! Hi, look at me, I'm a Special Agent Smith from dipshit school! Doi! I learned how to scribble today!
-=Lex=-(I plugged the agent's drawn gun with my finger and soothed.)
-=Lex=- What my brother is trying to say is that no matter how many times you ask me if I want to blow-up the President, I'm not going to say yes. I probably wouldn't even kill Fidel Castro. It's not that human life is magic and precious; most people are total dicks. I just have other hobbies that keep me busy. I wouldn't have the time to map out a plan that didn't involve fishing wire.
-=Agent Smith=- I understan... wait. None of that made any sense.
-=Lex=- To be honest, Agent Smith, none of it does. None of it really does.
-=Lex=-(Agent Smith put a piece of duct tape over my mouth and explained how if your website or baseball cap says to kill someone and then someone does it, it can get tracked back to you and then you're legally responsible. Two things happened because of this information: One; I had to cancel my Kill the President.com website. But a good thing happened, too. That's all the information Me and Xavier needed to twist the government's retarded system of blame into a get rich quick scheme. Xavier screamed.)
-=Xavier=- Invent flying cars, science!!!
-=Lex=-(At the exact same time I scribbled and yelled...)
-=Lex=- Hey, scientists! Invent talking fruit!
-=Lex=-(...Onto a scarf and dramatically threw it around my neck. So if we can trust Agent Smith and his Government, I will be legally responsible when scientists revolutionize produce with fruit that can talk [and maybe sing!!!]. And Xavier is going to be even richer when you're driving through the clouds in your flying cars. Because he was in charge of telling someone to make them.
Agent Smith, with a hand twitching on his firearm, informed us that this blaming policy didn't work like that. You only get the credit for bad stuff like school massacres and "situations of that matter." For example, if you rent a megaphone and bike around the world telling people to "BLOW UP THE WORLD!" you are held responsible if someone blows up the world. But if you call a grocery store and tell the guy on the phone to mop up aisle eight, you don't get a paycheck for cleaning up aisle eight. It didn't make much sense to us, but we were just happy that we were finally confused because someone else was an idiot.
We decided to stop being so selfish and tackle the problem head-on. If people were mindless drones enough to follow the instructions on a website that says to kill someone, they're mindless drones enough to follow instructions on a website that says not to kill someone. So we built a website called, "Stop Killing Our Leaders," and made sure the message would reach the American youth by having pictures of people in sunglasses next to where it says not to kill people. Also, lots of windsurfers and a bunch of the letters were tilted in different directions. Kids love that. Agent Smith and Ben Stiller didn't seem to like it as much as we'd hoped. That's when Ace took charge.
-=Ace=- Special Agent sirs, no one here wants to kill anyone. ...Actually that's a lie. But no one here wants to kill the President.
-=Xavier=- Except if I went back in time and met James Polk.
-=Ace=- Right, except for that.
[Ace said and rolled his eyes at the agents.]
-=Ace=- But you must understand the comedic potential of an assassination joke. Is there a less important government employee that we can joke about killing, but of course not actually kill?
[Agent Smith gave a signal to Ben Stiller and they both took out their guns. Xavier jumped up, ran between the agents and Ace, held up his open wallet and screamed...]
-=Xavier=- Whoa whoa whoa! I'm on the job!
[The confused silence that usually follows any sentence spoken by Xavier was instead occupied by clicking sounds as the agents prepared their sidearms for use.]
-=Lex=-(I thought quickly.)
-=Lex=- What about the Secretary of the... the... shit what's that one where they... Geography! Secretary of the Geography!
[Agent Smith sighed and lowered his weapon. Agent Tony did the same.]
-=Agent Smith=- That's not a government position.
[Displaying uncharacteristic bravery, Xavier tested Smith's sincerity by inventing a joke on the spot.]
-=Xavier=- Secretary of the Geography walks into a bar, AND THEN I KILL HIM.
[A muffled "ha ha ha" drifted out of the area where Ace had immediately wrapped his arms around Xavier's head.]
-=Lex=-(The agents didn't open fire. It appears that anyone who wants to joke about killing the Secretary of the Geography can do so with no fear of being vaporized from space. Agent Smith still looked pissed, so Ace offered to get him an iced tea. Xavier and Lex said together...)
-=Lex and Xavier=- Pussy.
[A second later, Xavier added...]
-=Xavier=- Why don't you lotion your hands and offer them a handjob while you're up? Pussy.
[He winked at Agent Smith and mouthed the words "I'm on the job."]
-=Agent Smith=- ...
-=Lex=-(The short time we all spent together flew by, and after a few days now, we still haven't heard from the friends we made in Special Agent Smith and his assistant Not-So-Special Agent Ben "Tony" Stiller. We can only assume that they must have found and eliminated whoever was responsible for all of these damn President deaths. And Secret Service: When I say "President" and "deaths" in the same sentence, there are other smaller words that modify and reverse meanings to try to make it clear that we nor our loyal followers in any way want any harm to come to the President. Or as we sometimes call him down at Coyote Ugly, Angel Divine.)
[A voice from no where yells...]
-=Voice=- Cut! Great job guys. Amazing improv.
[It's Scott Foster.]
-=Lex=- I hope you got it all. I'm not doing it again.
-=Scott=- I got it. If I don't get the job with this I'll never get it.
-=Ace=- I still don't understand why I have to play the dumbass who so happens to always be a fag.
-=Scott=- Because it's funny.
-=Xavier=- Fuck it. Let's go.
-=Max=- Lex did the sWo have to see that?
-=Lex=- Yeah.
[Fade to black.]