| Scene 1: It's day one of production in MONROE'S Popcorn Factory. He and MR SPONTANEOUS, both wearing hardhats, inspect the production floor from a second-storey scaffold Monroe: It's a beautiful site, ain't it? Popcorn coming to life, before your very eyes. Mr Spontaneous: Yeah. I'm glad you implemented my suggestion of using cheap hobo labour to cut down on costs. Monroe: They're hard-working folk, with hearts of gold. They're quite happy to work for discounted popcorn seconds. Mr S.: 'Popcorn Seconds?' Monroe: Well, even in popcorn manufacturing, we don't always get it right. [Spontaneous spits into a crate of freshly-made popcorn sitting below] Mr S.: Hah...There's their Christmas bonus. Monroe: Haha, that's sick. But also very spontaneous. Kudos to you. Mr S.: Thankyou, my friend. Monroe: ...You do realise, though, that you've set back production by at least half a week? Mr S.: Hey, look, you're the one that invited me here. What did you expect - me on my best f**king behaviour? Monroe: Point taken. [Pause] Monroe: Hey....let me show you the buttering room. That's where the magic happens. Mr S.: Ok, cool. That sounds 'Butt-tastic'. Monroe: [shaking his head 'No'] Nah, no good. That sounds like you're talking about butts, not butter. Mr S.: You're right. Oh well, they can't all be zingers. Bring on the buttering room... [The pair walk down the stairs and across the production floor] Monroe: You'll notice, Sponty, that the hobos get older and more adorable the further back you go in the factory. That's done on purpose. Mr S.: Oh, I see. Why is that? Monroe: Well, the older, more adorable hobos are also the ones that tend to stink worse and fondle you arse when you least expect it. Mr S.: Oooohhh.... Monroe: ...This way, I can avoid that unpleasantness on my way to the office. Mr S.: At least you're nice to them. Monroe: Exactly. When we were training them last week, I gave one of them my favourite jacket. Mr S.: That grey one? You're kidding!! [Pause] Monroe: Yeah, you're right. I am bullshitting. Mr S.: Yeah, I thought so. Monroe: ....Well, here we are: 'Butter Central'. It's the 'buttery heart' of Monroe's Popping Corp Mr S.: Dude...That's the name? Monroe: Yeah. All the good names for popcorn companies were already registered by the Mafia. Mr S.: Yeah, I hear it's a lucrative arm of organised crime. Monroe: Well, as you can see, we have here three huge vats full of butter. We use Vats #1 and #3 on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays and Vat #2 on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. Mr S.: What about Sunday? Monroe: Sponty, I'm offended. Haven't you read the Bible?....'Thou Shalt Not Pop Corn On The Sabbath Day'. Mr S.: Strange, don't remember that...Anyhoots, what happens with the vats on the days off? Monroe: We let the hobos bathe in them...Homeless guys love butter -- Mr S.: OH GOD! OH HOLY BUDDHA!!...You let them bathe in it? Monroe: Yeah, only on the rest days though. It's another one of their office perks. Look over at Vat #2. [They look to Vat #2] Hobo In Vat #2: I'M COVERED IN BUTTER...BY CRIKEY, I HAVEN'T FELT THIS GREAT SINCE WE FORCED THE JAPS OUT OF GUADALCANAL IN WWII. OH, MY SKIN'S SO SOFT...AND BUTTERY! THANKYOU MONROE FOR THIS, MY TRUE DREAM JOB!! [Dives under the butter again, pops up a few seconds later laughing in delight] Mr S.: That is the strangest thing I've ever seen. And I'm Mr Spontaneous. Monroe: Wait til you see the giant hot-air popping machine. At factory parties, we use it as a makeshift sweepstakes lottery machine. Mr S.: Yeah...uh...well, I gotta get going anyways. Monroe: Where you going? Mr S.: Just home. Anywhere. Away from here. Seeya. [Spontaneous leaves] Monroe: REMEMBER TO BUY MONROE-BRAND POPCORN! Scene 2: SPONTANEOUS arrives home. Inside, his mother GLADYS is baking a cake. Mr S.: Hey Mum, I'm home. Gladys: ...And how's my favourite immature son today? Mr S.: I'm as dysfunctional as ever. Gladys: Well, that's good. I'm glad you're home, because your father will be home soon, and then we're off to the 2000 Accountant's Christmas Ball. Mr S.: Wow. An entertainment extravaganza the likes of which the world has never seen. Gladys: You shut our mouth, child. Your father and I enjoy it. It's a chance for we accountants to let our hair down and forget about Accounts Receivable and Bad Debts Expense for just one night. Mr S.: Accounts what?...Anyway, mum, can I just tell you now: Never buy Monroe-brand popcorn. Gladys: B-B-But Monroe's your lifelong best friend! Don't you want to support him? Mr S.: Look: Let's just say that, if I could make some money out of it - and if Monroe wasn't paying me hush money - I'd have the Health Inspector onto him in a second. Gladys: Right. Don't want to know anymore. [Phone Rings] That's probably your father now... [Answers phone] Hello?... [Whilst his mother is on the phone, a bored Spontaneous looks to amuse himself. At this point, his mother begins to have seizures again*] Mr S.: Mum? What's wrong? Gladys: My...my temporary muscular dystrophy. Son, quick, get the dihexelphrene shot ready. Mr S.: No, I shan't be doing that, mother. I mean, no offense...but needles going into the skin...ugh...yuck. Gladys: Look, I'll do it myself...Just get it for me!! Mr S.: Promise I don't have to look? I get a little squeamish... Gladys: YES! N-N-Now...hurry!! [Spontaneous prepares the dihexelphrene injection] Mr S.: Ugh...Alright, I'll do it...[jabs needle into Gladys' arm] Gladys: AAAHHH!!...Thanks, son. Despite the immense pain you caused me, I'm feeling better already. Mr S.: No problems. [Draws some dihexelphrene into a new needle, jabs it into his own arm] Aaah, this shit is good! Gladys: Glad I raised such a responsible boy. [Car horn sounds outside] That's your father. I've gotta go. I'll see you later tonight. Mr S.: Sure thing...Mum... [Gladys leaves] Mr S.: Man...this dihexelphrene is...sssstrong ssstuff...especially for a made-up, fictional drug. Feeling a little...woozy...aaRRgaaggffddd... [Spontaneous collapses] FOR THE ANSWERS OF A FEW OF THESE QUESTIONS (ALTHOUGH I'M NOT GUARANTEEING ANYTHING), TUNE IN NEXT WEEK FOR EPISODE #2D OF 'MR SPONTANEOUS'!!! |