Demolition Has Its Ups And Downs

“Do you like the The Big Lebowski?”

“Heck yeah, I love The Big Lebowski.”

“Yeah, it's pretty great. Okay, I guess I'll smash the building now.”

“Wait. What if we don't?”

“What?”

“What if we don't destroy this building? What if we... take it over!”

“What, like, buy it?”

“No, we just take it. We'll tell everybody that we destroyed it, but we'll secretly fix it up and open it again. Nobody will know!”

“I don't think that will work at all...”

“Okay, then we can buy it. Come on, we can get out of this crap job, be our own bosses!”

“But the building is condemned, nobody can...”

“How hard can it be to fix it up? It'll be great, we can redecorate it – we can give it a Big Lebowski theme! Or do you think that's too cliché? It probably is, yeah. Stupid idea. Actually, I don't know what I'm talking about, I don't know the first thing about any of this. Stupid. Just smash it. Who cares.”

“All right. Do you want to do it? It always cheers you up.”

“No. Well, maybe. I guess so. Why not. Stupid bowling alley. Here we go. Swing the ball, and... oh man, I didn't even think about knocking down the pins first. This will be so great!”

Suburban Purgatory

“Oh no, we're definitely going to need to exchange insurance information.”

“Just so we're clear, are we accepting that this is happening? We are who we're supposed to be, we're committed to these characters and this situation?”

“Well, yes. The memo was clear.”

“Was it? The way I understood it, we have some breathing room, we're not locked in.”

“I don't know how you can interpret it that way.”

“Or that we can just bail completely. If we think the scene is kind of bullshit. Like now. Notice I'm slowly backing off.”

“No, what are you doing?”

“Bailing.”

“You can't do th...”

“Bailing!”

“I can't believe he did that. Great, now I have to talk to the pigs alone.”

What A Nightmare

“I... I'm cold. Why is it so cold?”

“Uhhhh... No. No! I'm not doing this.”

“I can't see you. Everything is dark.”

“No, I refuse to do this. Not even going to look. I'm just swimming into this corner. Not participating.”

“Help...”

“Jesus christ, you sick fucks! Do you hear me? I'm not going to be a part of this!”

“Hey! Hey. It's just a body suit. Come back. Look, a costume. I'm okay.”

“Is that supposed to be funny?! Where is the humor in this situation, huh?! Holy shit, what a nightmare.”

“Well, now that you mention it, there isn't much to work with. I guess we could just poop.”

“Poop?”

“Yeah, poop. Pooping is funny. You poop, then I poop.”

“You're going to poop?”

“Ghost poop.”

“I guess that's funny.”

“You take a big dump, a big cloud of poop, then I'll take a big poop, and we'll swim around and gasp and have big X's over our eyes and float away.”

“All right. I mean, if it means we can wrap this up. Listen, sorry I lost it back there, I...”

“POOP NOW!”

Baseball Means Nothing To Me

“It was 1986. It was a night just like this one, a stiff wind sweeping out the stale summer haze and it felt like the world was on your side for once. I was fresh off the farm, didn't have a clue. A child lost in the city. She was sitting right up there. No, not there, look at where I'm pointing, there. I could feel her eyes on me all the way in the outfield. Huge dark eyes, black as pitch. She was waiting for me after the game. I followed her to her car. She opened the trunk. She opened a case. She sold me my first pair of shoes. Real shoes, ones real women wear. These shoes. Stop looking at the stands, look at these shoes. There you go. Pretty nice, huh? Okay, back to the game. We should probably concentrate on winning, that seems important.”

But Seriously, I Can't Believe He Called

“Pretending to do what?

“...”

“You and me?”

“...”

“Have you finally lost it?”

“...”

“What? Your stories? They're fine. They still get me off.”

“...”

“Yeah, whatever. Not like there's a deadline or anything. I can hold off posting it.”

“...”

“All right, later. Jesus, what a nutjob. Why did he even call. Hey, you two, did you not see I was on the phone? Could you keep it down? I don't know why I keep letting you guys in here.”

“Because we keep bringing in the ladies! Haw!”

“Ugh.”

Maybe I Can't Do Better

“Listen, before you say anything, I know it's not my best work, but... actually, maybe it is, maybe it's sadly the best I can do. Do you ever get the feeling that we're all pretending?”

“...”

“Pretending that we know what we're doing! Faking our way through this nonsense.”

“...”

“No, everybody! Every single person in the world. Following rules as if they aren't shared delusions.”

“...”

“No, I'm fine, it's okay. I'm just tired. I'm just questioning everything. Like, why do I own such a small television? Why are animals getting so big? Why is my erotic fiction falling so flat lately?”

“...”

“That's kind of you to say. Give me a couple days for a rewrite. I can do better.”

“...”

“Thank you. Okay, I have to go. I have to drop the shade and jerk one out.”

Choose Wisely

“I hate these things. Look at them. Stupid birds. Stupid stinky birds. Can't you smell them? They smell like garbage. Stupid, ugly - that one is staring right at you! Doesn't that freak you out? Maybe it will bite your head off. I'm going inside. You can clean up the mess. And if they kill and eat you, I'm not going to clean it up.”

“Dude, what's up with your wife?”

“You realize you guys are monsters, right? But don't mind her, she doesn't know. Have you guys eaten enough yet? Are you ready to tell me your secret?”

“Uh, maybe tomorrow. We're going to go eat some rocks and digest this, and then get some sleep, and we'll see how full we feel tomorrow. Does that sound ok, dummy?”

“What?”

“Buddy? Is that okay, buddy? Okay. We're taking off. See you tomorrow. Bye-bye.”

“Stupid birds. I should have fed the giant squirrel instead.”