One From The Vault

For the greater part of the past decade I was involved in the telemarketing industry in one form or another (and I'’m just now recovering from the self-loathing imbued by such). The following is a draft of fictional dialog I wrote based on my friendship with a former coworker from those very strange days. It was part of a writing collaboration for a potential cable series that dissolved due to creative differences. The draft is dated 1-12-05 but I'’ve done a little editing since then. It appears long but it's a fast read.

INT: NIGHT -– The East Village, New York

(After work, Matt and Greg are making their way to one of their favorite bars. Greg is nonchalantly rolling a joint, confident his brashness and relaxed demeanor will aid in avoiding undo attention.)

Matt

Dude, you'’re about the most anti social person I'’ve ever met in my life. If you were invited to a "‘The World Ends In An Hour, Meet Me In The Secret Bunker"’ party, I bet you'’d no show.

Greg

Who else is invited?

Matt

Goddamn, you'’d actually nitpick over a bomb shelter'’s guest list?

Greg

I'’m very particular about who I want to spend Armageddon with. You gotta'’ bear in mind that the people attending this shindig are among the last people on Earth, they should at the very least be people I can stand to look at. I'’ll tell you this, if the majority of the guests were people from work, I'’d opt for taking my chances braving a nuclear winter and the inevitable genetic mutation.

Matt

So you'’re saying you'’d rather suffer monstrous disfiguration and fatal radiation sickness than live in relative safety with your coworkers?

Greg

More or less, yeah. (finishes rolling the joint. Seeing the street relatively empty, he lights it, takes a quick puff then hands it to Matt.)

Matt

That'’s pretty heavy, man. (He takes a toke and coughs ). I think you'’re full a'’ shit though. I have a feeling that I'’ll eventually wear you down; you'’ll come to my party, you can'’t help yourself. Chicks, pot, all the beer you can...Awe, shit.

(Matt looks up, prompting Greg to do the same. Greg instantly realizes they'’re passing by the apartment building Matt'’s ex-girlfriend lives in.)

Greg

(rolling his eyes) Oh for God'’s sake, you'’re not gonna'’ start that shit again are you?

Matt

Start what? (staring up at her window longingly)

Greg

Holding on to the goddamn joint till it goes out, for one. (he reaches over to take back the joint. A sullen looking Matt offers no resistance.) And going through this absurd posttraumatic break up obsession of yours.

Matt

(with a sigh) I can'’t help the way I feel, man. All this could have turned out better than it did. I feel defeated, you know? Empty...tossed aside.

Greg

Empty? You broke up with her you nitwit. How in the hell have you been tossed aside?

Matt

Well, it'’s not like she ever called me to try to reconcile or anything.

Greg

Holy shit man, what a piece a’ work. If stupid were money you'’d be Citibank. You are so fucking dense, light must just bend around you, I swear to God...Hey, I have an idea how you can get her back, wanna'’ hear it? (he lights the joint takes a long toke and hands it back to Matt)

Matt

By all means Gregorio, I'’m fucking riveted. I'’m certain you have not yet begun to mock me. (he takes a few tokes, noting the amused smirk on Greg's face.)

Greg

Heavens no, the night is still young. Now, I guarantee that if you simply follow my instructions, Meghan will come back running to you; so watch closely, there will be a short quiz later.

(Greg approaches the front of the building, stops and looks up at Meghan'’s window. With his arms outstretched, palms facing upward and his eyes tightly shut, he proceeds to bellow out her name repeatedly in the shrillest, whiniest and pathetic sounding voice he can muster; a hideous screeching remeniscent of a cross between Our Gang'’s Alfalfa and Yoko Ono. Matt, immediately gripped by a coughing and laughing fit, lunges at Greg, grabs him in a tight bear hug and lifts him off the ground carrying him away from the front of the building. They then continue their journey to the bar, laughing and smoking, Greg continuing to periodically call out Meghan'’s name in the pathetic voice until they finally reach the bar.)