Highway Star
Poker
(Intro to Highway Star)
Apartment. In the center of a sparsely decorated living room. Around a large circular oak table sit Four People playing poker for variously assorted chips. All are aged in their mid-twenties. Phill, the apartment renter, shuffles the deck and distributes the cards. He wears a white T-shirt, topped by a flannel. To Phills right is Carl. He is lanky and fidgety. He wears a long sleeved thermal shirt. To Carls right, across from Phill, is Vicky. Vicky is an attractive young brunette who wears a plain flannel. To Vicky's right, across from Carl, to the left of Phill, is Tim, a man with short black hair. Tim wears a pocketed red T-shirt. Everyone looks at their hands.
Phill: Ante up.
(Every one throws a plain potato chip into the pot. Carl glares at Tim throughout the game. watching his every move. Tim has most of the chips.)
Phill: Opening bet, Carl?
Carl: One ruffle.
(He glares at Tim as he reaches into his chips and throws a ruffle into the pot.)
Vicky: One ruffle it is.
(carelessly she throws a ruffle potato chip into the pot.)
Tim: I will see your ruffle, and raise you a nacho.
(Throws a ruffle and a nacho chip into the pot.)
Phill: That's too steep for me. I fold. (Sets his hand down.)
Carl: I'll meet you... (Throws a nacho and nacho into the pot.) And I'll raise you three nachos, Another ruffle, and a plain potato chip. (Throws in each as he says it. Vicky lets out a long breath and lays her cards face down on the table.)
Vicky: I don't even have that much left.
Carl: You could just push the rest of your chips in. We could count that as your final bet.
Vicky: No thank you. My hand isn't all that... (Carl nods and looks at Tim, suspiciously and scrutinizing. Arrogantly, he speaks to Tim.)
Carl: And that takes us back to you, Tim. What are you going to do?
Tim: I... (looks through his chips) will meet you... (Puts in what the bet calls for.) And raise you a salt and vinegar. (Every one takes a deep breath.)
Carl: That must be quite a hand.
(Tim shrugs calmly. Carl looks at him a moment and nods to himself determinably, throwing in his own salt and vinegar ship. All is calm and tense.) What have you got? (Tim puts his hand face up on the table.)
Tim: Three aces, two queens. (Carl throws his hand down on the table angrily.)
Carl: God damn it!
Tim: I take it your hand was not nearly as good. (He leans forward to rake in the pile of chips. Carl stands up.)
Carl: What is that now, Tim? Six hands? Seven?
Tim: Yeah, something like that.
Carl: No one is that fucking lucky.
Tim: That's cause with me it's skill.
Carl: No... No I don't think so.
Tim: Then what do you think, Carl?
Carl: I think you're fucking cheating is what I think. (Tim laughs.)
Tim: Yeah, Carl. I'm cheating in a card game over potato chips.
(Carl reaches into the back of his jeans and draws a gun. He points it into Tims face.)
Carl: I've been watching you, Tim.
Tim: What the fuck, man!?
Vicky:(freaked out) Oh my God! He's got a gun!
Phill: Carl...
Carl: Stay out of it, Phill.
Tim: What the fuck are you whipping a gun out over some potato chips for?
Carl: You have been cheating, haven't you, Tim?
Tim: No, Carl. I have not been cheating! Now would you put your fucking toy away, and sit down?!
Carl: Don't you lie to me Tim, you fuck! I know what you've been fucking doing!
Tim: Then what have I been doing?
Carl: I watched you switch your cards.
Tim: I have no idea what you're talking about, Carl.
Carl: I fucking saw you do it Tim!!
Tim: What the fuck are you even talking about?
Vicky: Oh my God, Tim... What is he going to do to you? (She is still terrified)
Tim: He's not going to do anything, baby.
Carl: Don't lie to the girl, Tim. (He looks over at Vicky and smiles, calmly and politely speaking to her.) Vicky, I'm going to blow his fucking head off.
Tim: But for what, Carl?
Carl: For cheating in a game of poker.
Tim: It was a friendly game of poker.
Carl: You don't cheat in a friendly game of poker. It defies all moral ethics.
Tim: I didn't cheat!
Carl: We shall see.
Tim: How, Carl? How are you going to prove it? (Carl stares at him, indecisively for a moment.)
Phill: Yes, Carl. Prove it. You had better be correct having pulled a gun in my home.
Carl: Don't you worry, I can prove it.
Tim: You can, can you? Then, please enlighten us. (There is an awkward silence.)
Carl: Tim... Empty your shirt pocket. (Tim reaches into his shirt pocket calmly, and pulls out nothing)
Tim: There. It's empty. Are you satisfied?
Carl: Not quite. Turn your pocket inside out.
Vicky: Oh come one, Carl. Put the damn gun away and sit down!
Carl: Vicky... I know this is your man and all, but I'm going to have to ask you to stay out of this. Now Tim, turn your pocket inside out.
(Tim stares back blankly at him.)
Tim: I don't see why I should...
Carl: Because I have a gun... And it's pointed at you.
Tim: Carl... We've known each other for almost six years now...
Carl: And if I didn't know you that well, I probably wouldn't have suspected you. Now kindly turn your pocket inside out.
(Slowly, Tim obeys. Within his pocket is are aces of clubs, an ace of hearts, an ace of diamonds, and an ace of spades. Phill shakes his head in disbelief. Vicky almost cries.)
Carl: There! You see?!
Tim: What? I don't even know how that got in ther.
Vicky: (in tears) Oh my God...
Tim: It's all right, baby.
Vicky: I can't believe you would do that.
Tim: It's OK, babe.
Vicky: It's not OK, Tim. Carl is going to shoot you.
Tim: No, Vicky, He's not going to blow my head off over some potato chips.
(Vicky looks hopefully at Carl)
Carl: Oh I will.
(Vicky cries.)
Tim: It's fucking potato chips, Carl!
(Carl cocks the gun)
Carl: What's it like to know that your life was lost because you decided to cheat in a game for potato chips, Tim?
Tim: Jesus christ, Carl, theres like three bags of them in the kitchen!
Carl:(Shakes his head.) It's a damn shame, Tim. I thought more of you.
(Vicky gets up and shoves Carl aside, taking the gun from him, and standing with it for a moment, unsure as to what to do. Everyone looks at her, unsure of what to do.)
Tim: Vicky- (She points the gun at Tim.)
Vicky: Shut up, Tim!
Carl: Now, now. We don't have to be like this. Give me the gun back, Vicky.
Vicky:Not a chance in hell, Carl, you crazy gun toating son of a bitch. (She points the gun at Carl.)
Carl: Now Vicky-
Vicky: Shut up, and sit the fuck down, you edgy mother fucker. (Carl does as instructed. Vicky keeps the gun aimed at Carl.) Now you all need to listen up, because I have something to say.
Tim: This ought to be good.
(Vicky swing the gun to point once again at Tim.)
Vicky: Tim... Don't push me. I am at a point right now where I could shoot every one of you mother fuckers.... (All stare dumb founded at her.) Phill... (She looks at him, pointing the gun at him, nervously he ducks, then regains his composure.)
Phill: Yes, Vicky?
Vicky: I'm real sorry about this whole gun thing.
Phill: Oh, it's not your fault...
Vicky: Carl is real sorry about it too, aren't you Carl? (She looks to Carl, pointing the gun at him in the process.)
Carl: Oh yeah, Phill. I'm real sorry. It's just that I can't take being cheated.
Phill: It was over potato chips.
Carl: Well, in retrospect, I admit that I may have over reacted a bit...
Tim: A bit?! You whipped your gun out and started waving it in my face!
Carl: If you would have played a straight game there would have been nothing to worry about!
Tim: What kind of an idiot brings a gun to a friendly game of poker, anyway?!
Carl: Someone who-
Vicky: Enough!!! (She waves the gun between the two of them, consequently causing Phill to duck beneath her aim as she bounced between Tim and Carl.) I mean what the fuck?! Are you that fucking anal, Carl, that you would pull out a gun on your friends in the middle of a friendly game of cards?! And Tim... Are you that crude that you would cheat your friends in a card game?
Tim: Apparently so.
Vicky: You have problems then, Tim.
Tim: I have problems?! I'm not one of the people waving guns around in everyone's face!
Vicky: The fact that you would cheat in a minor game like this...
Tim: Is a lot better than cheating when we're playing for money. This game doesn't count for shit.
Vicky: That's beside the point.
Tim: No. You know what? I don't think it is. In fact I would go so far as to say that it's my entire point.
Vicky: What the hell is wrong with you, Tim?! You can't go around cheating in everything you do. You will never make it anywhere in the world breaking all the rules.
Phill: Prison. (Vicky looks at Phill)
Vicky: What?
Phill: I said "prison". He could probably make it in prison.
Carl: No way, man. He's scrawny. He'd probably get ass raped in prison. Now Vicky... (He speaks calmly to her.) It looks like you've stepped in a little over your head. Now I think we both know you don't know what to do with that gun. (She looks doubtful, he is getting to her.) So why don't you just hand me the gun, and everything will be back to the way it was... (He stretches out his arm. She begins to hand the gun over to him.)
Phill: No!! Vicky! (She still holds the gun, but discontinues giving it to Carl.) Are you forgetting who pulled the gun out in the first place?
Vicky: No. I just...
Phill: Here, now give the gun to me. (She looks to Phill, looks to Carl, and back and forth between the two, each holding out a hand for the gun. She looks to Tim.)
Tim: What the hell are you looking at me for?!
(She looks back between Phill and Carl. Hesitantly she hands the gun to Carl.)
Carl: That's a good girl. (He immediately turns it around and points it back at Tim.)
Tim: You gave it back to Carl?!
Carl: Don't talk to her like that, Tim. She did what she thought was right.
Tim: Vicky... You may not recall, but Carl was the mother fucker who pulled the gun out in the first place!
(Vicky still stands, indecisively.)
Carl: Have a seat, Vicky. (Vicky sits.) Now, Tim; it would appear that we have some unfinished business between us.
Tim: You know what, Carl? Just do it already.
Carl: No. No I don't think so. I think you need to understand what you did.
Tim: I understand what I did. And if you wouldn't have opened your fucking mouth, I would still be the only one who understood what I was doing. Now if you're going to shoot me, just shoot me.
Carl: Fair enough. (Carl stands and cocks the gun. Tim looks at Phill.)
Tim: I'm real sorry about your table, Phill.
Phill: What?
(Tim lifts the table up from his end and tips it over towards Carl, chips flying. Once the table is on the side, Tim starts shoving it towards Carl. Carl has dropped the gun. Phill sits dumbly, not knowing what to do. Vicky has moved from the table and sits hiding her eyes. Tim grabs the gun from the floor and stands over Carl, who is still in the chair, face up on the ground. He holds the gun over Carl.)
Tim: You're not such a hot shot now, are you Carl? (Carl doesn't answer.) Are you!?! (Carl only laughs in reply. Vicky uncovers her eyes. Phill looks at the two blankly.)
Phill: Tim...
(Carl is still laughing, quite insanely.)
Tim: Fuck you, Carl, you psychotic mother fucker!! (Pulls the trigger three times.)
Vicky: Tim, Nooooooo!!!!
(There was no boom. only the three consecutive clicks of the gun. Carl still laughs.)
Tim: What? (Looks at gun, then at Carl, who is standing up. He throws the gun down.) It wasn't loaded!
Carl: Of course it wasn't loaded. How fucking crazy do you think I am?! (All are silent.)
Phill: My table...
Carl: I can't believe all this time you were calling me crazy and you're the one pulling the trigger, you trigger happy mother fucker. Damn, man. You could have killed me.
(Tim stands embarrassed for a moment as Carl grabs his gun from the ground.)
Tim: I'm going to kill you.
Carl: Not without bullets you're not.
(Tim lunges at Carl, tackling him to the ground where throws wild punches at Carl, which are for the most part blocked, but occasionally connect. Phill drags Tim from over Carl.)
Phill: Chill out, Tim.
(Carl gets up, whipping the blood form his mouth.)
Carl: What the fuck, Tim! Can't you take a fucking joke?
Tim: That was not funny, Carl!
Carl: What are you talking about that wasn't funny, I nearly died laughing.
Vicky: It was not funny, Carl.
(Carl looks to Phill for support.)
Phill: Get out of my house.
Carl: Man fuck all of you, I'm leaving. (Walks to the door and exits, slamming it closed behind him.)
Vicky: My God what an asshole.
Tim: All right, man. I guess the lady and I are out of here then.
Phill: Oh no. You're cleaning up these potato chips you spilled all over the floor.
(Vicky hits Tim in the back of the head.)
Tim: Ow! What the hell was that for?!
Vicky: You see where cheating gets you, Tim? Do you see?!
(Lights begin to dim.)
Tim: Man, screw you; I'm hitch hiking to California.
Vicky: You are always hitch hiking to California.
Black out.
(Intro to Highway Star)
Apartment. In the center of a sparsely decorated living room. Around a large circular oak table sit Four People playing poker for variously assorted chips. All are aged in their mid-twenties. Phill, the apartment renter, shuffles the deck and distributes the cards. He wears a white T-shirt, topped by a flannel. To Phills right is Carl. He is lanky and fidgety. He wears a long sleeved thermal shirt. To Carls right, across from Phill, is Vicky. Vicky is an attractive young brunette who wears a plain flannel. To Vicky's right, across from Carl, to the left of Phill, is Tim, a man with short black hair. Tim wears a pocketed red T-shirt. Everyone looks at their hands.
Phill: Ante up.
(Every one throws a plain potato chip into the pot. Carl glares at Tim throughout the game. watching his every move. Tim has most of the chips.)
Phill: Opening bet, Carl?
Carl: One ruffle.
(He glares at Tim as he reaches into his chips and throws a ruffle into the pot.)
Vicky: One ruffle it is.
(carelessly she throws a ruffle potato chip into the pot.)
Tim: I will see your ruffle, and raise you a nacho.
(Throws a ruffle and a nacho chip into the pot.)
Phill: That's too steep for me. I fold. (Sets his hand down.)
Carl: I'll meet you... (Throws a nacho and nacho into the pot.) And I'll raise you three nachos, Another ruffle, and a plain potato chip. (Throws in each as he says it. Vicky lets out a long breath and lays her cards face down on the table.)
Vicky: I don't even have that much left.
Carl: You could just push the rest of your chips in. We could count that as your final bet.
Vicky: No thank you. My hand isn't all that... (Carl nods and looks at Tim, suspiciously and scrutinizing. Arrogantly, he speaks to Tim.)
Carl: And that takes us back to you, Tim. What are you going to do?
Tim: I... (looks through his chips) will meet you... (Puts in what the bet calls for.) And raise you a salt and vinegar. (Every one takes a deep breath.)
Carl: That must be quite a hand.
(Tim shrugs calmly. Carl looks at him a moment and nods to himself determinably, throwing in his own salt and vinegar ship. All is calm and tense.) What have you got? (Tim puts his hand face up on the table.)
Tim: Three aces, two queens. (Carl throws his hand down on the table angrily.)
Carl: God damn it!
Tim: I take it your hand was not nearly as good. (He leans forward to rake in the pile of chips. Carl stands up.)
Carl: What is that now, Tim? Six hands? Seven?
Tim: Yeah, something like that.
Carl: No one is that fucking lucky.
Tim: That's cause with me it's skill.
Carl: No... No I don't think so.
Tim: Then what do you think, Carl?
Carl: I think you're fucking cheating is what I think. (Tim laughs.)
Tim: Yeah, Carl. I'm cheating in a card game over potato chips.
(Carl reaches into the back of his jeans and draws a gun. He points it into Tims face.)
Carl: I've been watching you, Tim.
Tim: What the fuck, man!?
Vicky:(freaked out) Oh my God! He's got a gun!
Phill: Carl...
Carl: Stay out of it, Phill.
Tim: What the fuck are you whipping a gun out over some potato chips for?
Carl: You have been cheating, haven't you, Tim?
Tim: No, Carl. I have not been cheating! Now would you put your fucking toy away, and sit down?!
Carl: Don't you lie to me Tim, you fuck! I know what you've been fucking doing!
Tim: Then what have I been doing?
Carl: I watched you switch your cards.
Tim: I have no idea what you're talking about, Carl.
Carl: I fucking saw you do it Tim!!
Tim: What the fuck are you even talking about?
Vicky: Oh my God, Tim... What is he going to do to you? (She is still terrified)
Tim: He's not going to do anything, baby.
Carl: Don't lie to the girl, Tim. (He looks over at Vicky and smiles, calmly and politely speaking to her.) Vicky, I'm going to blow his fucking head off.
Tim: But for what, Carl?
Carl: For cheating in a game of poker.
Tim: It was a friendly game of poker.
Carl: You don't cheat in a friendly game of poker. It defies all moral ethics.
Tim: I didn't cheat!
Carl: We shall see.
Tim: How, Carl? How are you going to prove it? (Carl stares at him, indecisively for a moment.)
Phill: Yes, Carl. Prove it. You had better be correct having pulled a gun in my home.
Carl: Don't you worry, I can prove it.
Tim: You can, can you? Then, please enlighten us. (There is an awkward silence.)
Carl: Tim... Empty your shirt pocket. (Tim reaches into his shirt pocket calmly, and pulls out nothing)
Tim: There. It's empty. Are you satisfied?
Carl: Not quite. Turn your pocket inside out.
Vicky: Oh come one, Carl. Put the damn gun away and sit down!
Carl: Vicky... I know this is your man and all, but I'm going to have to ask you to stay out of this. Now Tim, turn your pocket inside out.
(Tim stares back blankly at him.)
Tim: I don't see why I should...
Carl: Because I have a gun... And it's pointed at you.
Tim: Carl... We've known each other for almost six years now...
Carl: And if I didn't know you that well, I probably wouldn't have suspected you. Now kindly turn your pocket inside out.
(Slowly, Tim obeys. Within his pocket is are aces of clubs, an ace of hearts, an ace of diamonds, and an ace of spades. Phill shakes his head in disbelief. Vicky almost cries.)
Carl: There! You see?!
Tim: What? I don't even know how that got in ther.
Vicky: (in tears) Oh my God...
Tim: It's all right, baby.
Vicky: I can't believe you would do that.
Tim: It's OK, babe.
Vicky: It's not OK, Tim. Carl is going to shoot you.
Tim: No, Vicky, He's not going to blow my head off over some potato chips.
(Vicky looks hopefully at Carl)
Carl: Oh I will.
(Vicky cries.)
Tim: It's fucking potato chips, Carl!
(Carl cocks the gun)
Carl: What's it like to know that your life was lost because you decided to cheat in a game for potato chips, Tim?
Tim: Jesus christ, Carl, theres like three bags of them in the kitchen!
Carl:(Shakes his head.) It's a damn shame, Tim. I thought more of you.
(Vicky gets up and shoves Carl aside, taking the gun from him, and standing with it for a moment, unsure as to what to do. Everyone looks at her, unsure of what to do.)
Tim: Vicky- (She points the gun at Tim.)
Vicky: Shut up, Tim!
Carl: Now, now. We don't have to be like this. Give me the gun back, Vicky.
Vicky:Not a chance in hell, Carl, you crazy gun toating son of a bitch. (She points the gun at Carl.)
Carl: Now Vicky-
Vicky: Shut up, and sit the fuck down, you edgy mother fucker. (Carl does as instructed. Vicky keeps the gun aimed at Carl.) Now you all need to listen up, because I have something to say.
Tim: This ought to be good.
(Vicky swing the gun to point once again at Tim.)
Vicky: Tim... Don't push me. I am at a point right now where I could shoot every one of you mother fuckers.... (All stare dumb founded at her.) Phill... (She looks at him, pointing the gun at him, nervously he ducks, then regains his composure.)
Phill: Yes, Vicky?
Vicky: I'm real sorry about this whole gun thing.
Phill: Oh, it's not your fault...
Vicky: Carl is real sorry about it too, aren't you Carl? (She looks to Carl, pointing the gun at him in the process.)
Carl: Oh yeah, Phill. I'm real sorry. It's just that I can't take being cheated.
Phill: It was over potato chips.
Carl: Well, in retrospect, I admit that I may have over reacted a bit...
Tim: A bit?! You whipped your gun out and started waving it in my face!
Carl: If you would have played a straight game there would have been nothing to worry about!
Tim: What kind of an idiot brings a gun to a friendly game of poker, anyway?!
Carl: Someone who-
Vicky: Enough!!! (She waves the gun between the two of them, consequently causing Phill to duck beneath her aim as she bounced between Tim and Carl.) I mean what the fuck?! Are you that fucking anal, Carl, that you would pull out a gun on your friends in the middle of a friendly game of cards?! And Tim... Are you that crude that you would cheat your friends in a card game?
Tim: Apparently so.
Vicky: You have problems then, Tim.
Tim: I have problems?! I'm not one of the people waving guns around in everyone's face!
Vicky: The fact that you would cheat in a minor game like this...
Tim: Is a lot better than cheating when we're playing for money. This game doesn't count for shit.
Vicky: That's beside the point.
Tim: No. You know what? I don't think it is. In fact I would go so far as to say that it's my entire point.
Vicky: What the hell is wrong with you, Tim?! You can't go around cheating in everything you do. You will never make it anywhere in the world breaking all the rules.
Phill: Prison. (Vicky looks at Phill)
Vicky: What?
Phill: I said "prison". He could probably make it in prison.
Carl: No way, man. He's scrawny. He'd probably get ass raped in prison. Now Vicky... (He speaks calmly to her.) It looks like you've stepped in a little over your head. Now I think we both know you don't know what to do with that gun. (She looks doubtful, he is getting to her.) So why don't you just hand me the gun, and everything will be back to the way it was... (He stretches out his arm. She begins to hand the gun over to him.)
Phill: No!! Vicky! (She still holds the gun, but discontinues giving it to Carl.) Are you forgetting who pulled the gun out in the first place?
Vicky: No. I just...
Phill: Here, now give the gun to me. (She looks to Phill, looks to Carl, and back and forth between the two, each holding out a hand for the gun. She looks to Tim.)
Tim: What the hell are you looking at me for?!
(She looks back between Phill and Carl. Hesitantly she hands the gun to Carl.)
Carl: That's a good girl. (He immediately turns it around and points it back at Tim.)
Tim: You gave it back to Carl?!
Carl: Don't talk to her like that, Tim. She did what she thought was right.
Tim: Vicky... You may not recall, but Carl was the mother fucker who pulled the gun out in the first place!
(Vicky still stands, indecisively.)
Carl: Have a seat, Vicky. (Vicky sits.) Now, Tim; it would appear that we have some unfinished business between us.
Tim: You know what, Carl? Just do it already.
Carl: No. No I don't think so. I think you need to understand what you did.
Tim: I understand what I did. And if you wouldn't have opened your fucking mouth, I would still be the only one who understood what I was doing. Now if you're going to shoot me, just shoot me.
Carl: Fair enough. (Carl stands and cocks the gun. Tim looks at Phill.)
Tim: I'm real sorry about your table, Phill.
Phill: What?
(Tim lifts the table up from his end and tips it over towards Carl, chips flying. Once the table is on the side, Tim starts shoving it towards Carl. Carl has dropped the gun. Phill sits dumbly, not knowing what to do. Vicky has moved from the table and sits hiding her eyes. Tim grabs the gun from the floor and stands over Carl, who is still in the chair, face up on the ground. He holds the gun over Carl.)
Tim: You're not such a hot shot now, are you Carl? (Carl doesn't answer.) Are you!?! (Carl only laughs in reply. Vicky uncovers her eyes. Phill looks at the two blankly.)
Phill: Tim...
(Carl is still laughing, quite insanely.)
Tim: Fuck you, Carl, you psychotic mother fucker!! (Pulls the trigger three times.)
Vicky: Tim, Nooooooo!!!!
(There was no boom. only the three consecutive clicks of the gun. Carl still laughs.)
Tim: What? (Looks at gun, then at Carl, who is standing up. He throws the gun down.) It wasn't loaded!
Carl: Of course it wasn't loaded. How fucking crazy do you think I am?! (All are silent.)
Phill: My table...
Carl: I can't believe all this time you were calling me crazy and you're the one pulling the trigger, you trigger happy mother fucker. Damn, man. You could have killed me.
(Tim stands embarrassed for a moment as Carl grabs his gun from the ground.)
Tim: I'm going to kill you.
Carl: Not without bullets you're not.
(Tim lunges at Carl, tackling him to the ground where throws wild punches at Carl, which are for the most part blocked, but occasionally connect. Phill drags Tim from over Carl.)
Phill: Chill out, Tim.
(Carl gets up, whipping the blood form his mouth.)
Carl: What the fuck, Tim! Can't you take a fucking joke?
Tim: That was not funny, Carl!
Carl: What are you talking about that wasn't funny, I nearly died laughing.
Vicky: It was not funny, Carl.
(Carl looks to Phill for support.)
Phill: Get out of my house.
Carl: Man fuck all of you, I'm leaving. (Walks to the door and exits, slamming it closed behind him.)
Vicky: My God what an asshole.
Tim: All right, man. I guess the lady and I are out of here then.
Phill: Oh no. You're cleaning up these potato chips you spilled all over the floor.
(Vicky hits Tim in the back of the head.)
Tim: Ow! What the hell was that for?!
Vicky: You see where cheating gets you, Tim? Do you see?!
(Lights begin to dim.)
Tim: Man, screw you; I'm hitch hiking to California.
Vicky: You are always hitch hiking to California.
Black out.