9.04.2006
INTERLUDE: Home Fries
Scene: "Shady Orchards", a sleepy farmhouse- one of the last bastions of civilization in a war-torn land. Two holdouts are the last that remain on this once-prosperous country ranch. Gregolas Half-Elven, blonde-dredlocked burnout. Ronald Greetles, Esq., kobold mayor of Shady Orchards and the village of Grito, population 20.
The kitchen. It is morning. Gregolas sits in front of a massive wide-screen TV watching the demo screens of a frenetic video game, on mute. A laptop is open in front of him, and 'rap' music can be heard blasting from its tinny speakers. After a long pause, Greetles comes downstairs, sleepily, still in robe and slippers.
GREGOLAS: (Cheerfully) Yo, Grizzle!
Greetles glares at Gregolas and wipes at his eyes, frowning.
GREGOLAS: Yo you gotta check this out. Just listen.
Impossibly, Gregolas turns up the music even louder, and sings along.
GREGOLAS: (Singing) Lo duc do dong/ An thuc do thong
Bic burrac/On du thac/Pho dong di la long!
Mahalo, me calo/Thuc pho do don don, yo
Jung lee/chuk mee/"An she a big ho!"
Ha ha! Ain't this just... whoa, wait a sec, check it here... right here! Did you hear that beat?
Gregolas points at the laptop and stares at Greetles, mouth open in glee.
GREGOLAS: Well didja? That beat? Fuckin' Mentos, G. Tha freshmaker! Huh huh.
Greetles stares back, half stunned. Shakes his head absently and turns to the stove, where he puts on a tea-kettle.
GREETLES: Gregolas, could you please turn that down? At least over breakfast... at least... (He checks his watch. Flatly:) 5:30 AM. Have you been up all night?
GREGOLAS: Yeah, it's cool though. Pimped my iPod out with some of this stuff. This is Ng Sta, total Vietnamese hip-hop, total original. I'm tellin' you bra. Ment-ohs. Believe it.
Greetles smiles and prepares his tea.
GREETLES: Any word from the Tower, or...
GREGOLAS: Nope, nothin. Oh sorry man, didn't mean to cut you off. You were askin?
GREETLES: Huh? Well, yeah, right. Yes. I mean, no word then from anyone, I take it.
GREGOLAS: Not on Greg's watch. Didn't roll a 1 here Grizz. Been up a while actually.
Gregolas seems to contemplate just how long he's been awake.
GREGOLAS: Shit, well, that's a satisfying conclusion to my hypothesis.
Greetles looks puzzled.
GREGOLAS: It was a total system. Red Bulls on the hour, plus a little weed here-n-there to patch the holes in the walls. Gonna crash soon though if that's cool.
GREETLES: Sure, I'll take the day shift. You checked all the traps and alarms, I take it?
GREGOLAS: Yeah, I...
Gregolas breaks off in mid-sentence as he looks at the laptop. Looks back at Greetles in surprise and shock. Beat.
GREGLOAS: (Measured.) Oh... my... god. 100% OMG Greetz.
Greetles runs over, alarmed.
GREETLES: What is it? Another platoon? Fire? The...
GREGOLAS: No, no. (Shakes his head, understanding Greetles' alarm.) No we ain't under attack, it's cool. In fact, I have a feeling everything is going to be totally cool for the rest of forever. Shit bro, start re-collecting your unicorn and rainbow stickers, cause Prayers Sometimes Do Come True.
Greetles looks confused, again.
GREGOLAS: Just got notification, auto-email, you dig? The 'Las likes to keep his finger on the pulse of Hotness, and Hotness just raged hard. Check it out. (Shows the laptop to Greetles. Avec gravitas:) They're filming "Dragonlance".
Beat. Greetles, for the first time in a long time, slowly grins.
GREGOLAS: Oh no, brother of mine. If that were all, I'd be all like 'Grizz, pour the Elize and call in sick to the office, we down-and-out!" But that's not The Hotness. According to IDMDB here or whatever, do you see who's doing the voices? Do you see? Do You See The Light, oh my brother?
Greetles begins to speak, reading off the screen, but Gregolas cuts him off.
GREGOLAS: (Faux-majestically:) That's right, my brothers and sisters, you are 200% correct. It is by the glory of the lord that I bring you this good news: Xena and Agent Jack Bauer are Goldmoon and Raistlin. Fuckin' XENA dude. Fuckin' Xena.
Gregolas and Greetles sit down on the couch together and stare for a second at the laptop, then turn their attention to the video game. Greetles looks over at Gregolas.
GREETLES: Um, Greg. What is that, that on the screen?
GREGOLAS: Oh yeah Grizzle, new Dead or Alive game comin' out. Whoa, hello! Waay out baby! Heh heh, that's what I'm talkin about! Goldmoon yo!
Gregolas punches Greetles on the shoulder, and Greetles shakes his head laughing in mock-disgust. They watch the game for a minute or so, then Greetles returns to his tea. Sips it by the stove delicately as it's hot. Gregolas types something on the laptop and nods in satisfaction. Pause. Greetles puts down the tea, wipes his eyes again, and comes back over to the couch.
GREETLES: So, you know... not to rain on this parade, much welcome as it is. But Greg, today's the day. I'm talking to Smallwood in the afternoon.
The mood is suddenly somber. Two old friends, making morning pleasantries while in the trench of a terrible battle.
GREGOLAS: Yeah I know little G. Bri's propa and his old man is a'ight. I mean, he a cocksucka, but he a'ight. (Lights a joint, puffs.) We all gotta play parts in this. Looks like they just called your number. Gregolas keep the home fries burnin'.
GREETLES: (To himself) 'Fires'. 'Home fires'.
GREGOLAS: Huh? You say something? Sorry, Ng Sta on the mic and all.
GREETLES: Oh, nope. You want some tea?
GREGOLAS: 100% yes.
Scene.
The kitchen. It is morning. Gregolas sits in front of a massive wide-screen TV watching the demo screens of a frenetic video game, on mute. A laptop is open in front of him, and 'rap' music can be heard blasting from its tinny speakers. After a long pause, Greetles comes downstairs, sleepily, still in robe and slippers.
GREGOLAS: (Cheerfully) Yo, Grizzle!
Greetles glares at Gregolas and wipes at his eyes, frowning.
GREGOLAS: Yo you gotta check this out. Just listen.
Impossibly, Gregolas turns up the music even louder, and sings along.
GREGOLAS: (Singing) Lo duc do dong/ An thuc do thong
Bic burrac/On du thac/Pho dong di la long!
Mahalo, me calo/Thuc pho do don don, yo
Jung lee/chuk mee/"An she a big ho!"
Ha ha! Ain't this just... whoa, wait a sec, check it here... right here! Did you hear that beat?
Gregolas points at the laptop and stares at Greetles, mouth open in glee.
GREGOLAS: Well didja? That beat? Fuckin' Mentos, G. Tha freshmaker! Huh huh.
Greetles stares back, half stunned. Shakes his head absently and turns to the stove, where he puts on a tea-kettle.
GREETLES: Gregolas, could you please turn that down? At least over breakfast... at least... (He checks his watch. Flatly:) 5:30 AM. Have you been up all night?
GREGOLAS: Yeah, it's cool though. Pimped my iPod out with some of this stuff. This is Ng Sta, total Vietnamese hip-hop, total original. I'm tellin' you bra. Ment-ohs. Believe it.
Greetles smiles and prepares his tea.
GREETLES: Any word from the Tower, or...
GREGOLAS: Nope, nothin. Oh sorry man, didn't mean to cut you off. You were askin?
GREETLES: Huh? Well, yeah, right. Yes. I mean, no word then from anyone, I take it.
GREGOLAS: Not on Greg's watch. Didn't roll a 1 here Grizz. Been up a while actually.
Gregolas seems to contemplate just how long he's been awake.
GREGOLAS: Shit, well, that's a satisfying conclusion to my hypothesis.
Greetles looks puzzled.
GREGOLAS: It was a total system. Red Bulls on the hour, plus a little weed here-n-there to patch the holes in the walls. Gonna crash soon though if that's cool.
GREETLES: Sure, I'll take the day shift. You checked all the traps and alarms, I take it?
GREGOLAS: Yeah, I...
Gregolas breaks off in mid-sentence as he looks at the laptop. Looks back at Greetles in surprise and shock. Beat.
GREGLOAS: (Measured.) Oh... my... god. 100% OMG Greetz.
Greetles runs over, alarmed.
GREETLES: What is it? Another platoon? Fire? The...
GREGOLAS: No, no. (Shakes his head, understanding Greetles' alarm.) No we ain't under attack, it's cool. In fact, I have a feeling everything is going to be totally cool for the rest of forever. Shit bro, start re-collecting your unicorn and rainbow stickers, cause Prayers Sometimes Do Come True.
Greetles looks confused, again.
GREGOLAS: Just got notification, auto-email, you dig? The 'Las likes to keep his finger on the pulse of Hotness, and Hotness just raged hard. Check it out. (Shows the laptop to Greetles. Avec gravitas:) They're filming "Dragonlance".
Beat. Greetles, for the first time in a long time, slowly grins.
GREGOLAS: Oh no, brother of mine. If that were all, I'd be all like 'Grizz, pour the Elize and call in sick to the office, we down-and-out!" But that's not The Hotness. According to IDMDB here or whatever, do you see who's doing the voices? Do you see? Do You See The Light, oh my brother?
Greetles begins to speak, reading off the screen, but Gregolas cuts him off.
GREGOLAS: (Faux-majestically:) That's right, my brothers and sisters, you are 200% correct. It is by the glory of the lord that I bring you this good news: Xena and Agent Jack Bauer are Goldmoon and Raistlin. Fuckin' XENA dude. Fuckin' Xena.
Gregolas and Greetles sit down on the couch together and stare for a second at the laptop, then turn their attention to the video game. Greetles looks over at Gregolas.
GREETLES: Um, Greg. What is that, that on the screen?
GREGOLAS: Oh yeah Grizzle, new Dead or Alive game comin' out. Whoa, hello! Waay out baby! Heh heh, that's what I'm talkin about! Goldmoon yo!
Gregolas punches Greetles on the shoulder, and Greetles shakes his head laughing in mock-disgust. They watch the game for a minute or so, then Greetles returns to his tea. Sips it by the stove delicately as it's hot. Gregolas types something on the laptop and nods in satisfaction. Pause. Greetles puts down the tea, wipes his eyes again, and comes back over to the couch.
GREETLES: So, you know... not to rain on this parade, much welcome as it is. But Greg, today's the day. I'm talking to Smallwood in the afternoon.
The mood is suddenly somber. Two old friends, making morning pleasantries while in the trench of a terrible battle.
GREGOLAS: Yeah I know little G. Bri's propa and his old man is a'ight. I mean, he a cocksucka, but he a'ight. (Lights a joint, puffs.) We all gotta play parts in this. Looks like they just called your number. Gregolas keep the home fries burnin'.
GREETLES: (To himself) 'Fires'. 'Home fires'.
GREGOLAS: Huh? You say something? Sorry, Ng Sta on the mic and all.
GREETLES: Oh, nope. You want some tea?
GREGOLAS: 100% yes.
Scene.
