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Three Assholes – Episode 103

Posted in erbooker by erbooker on 12/12/2011

Nate, Mike & Keith are childhood Maine friends. They’re also assholes.

Episode 103 – She’s Crappy

Mike:  (smiling, hands on hips)  There. All moved in.

Nate:  Looks great, Mikey.

(Nate and Mike have moved the AWOL soldier into a new trailer park. Keith comes running up from the back of the park…)

Keith:  I checked around. There are definitely some meth addicts here, but no meth cookers. So, chances of a meth lab explosion burning this place into cinders is minimal.

Mike:  Thanks, Keith. So what do you guys think, celebratory pizza pie at Mamma Baldacci’s?

Keith:  (holding thumb and forefingers together)  That sounds a-nice!

Nate:  What is that, Australian?

Mike:  Sounded kinda Irish.

Keith:  (mutters)  Jerks.


(At Mamma Baldacci’s in Bangor, Nate and Keith are playing pinball in the back while Mike finishes his pie. The waitress drops the receipt and sits down across from him…)

Lucy:  You’re cute.

Mike:  (glances up, pepperoni grease dripping down his chin)  Pardon?

Lucy:  You’re cute. My name’s Lucy.

Mike:  Mike.

Lucy:  I just moved down here from Houlton. Still kinda new to the area. Maybe you could show me around?

Mike:  Uh, yeah. Sure, I could do that.

Lucy:  (rips a corner off the receipt, scribbles)  Here’s my number. Call me tonight. Maybe you can show me your place.

Mike:  D’okay.

(Mike stares dumbfoundedly as Lucy sashays back behind the counter. His friends return to the booth and Keith smacks him on the back of the head…)

Keith:  Hey, idiot. Let’s go back to your new trailer, get drunk and trash shit.

Mike:  (swaggering towards the exit)  ‘Fraid not, gents. I’ve got a date.

Keith:  (chortles)  No, seriously. What kind of beer should I get? Ice?

Mike:  Seriously, I’ve got a date tonight.

Nate:  That’s great, buddy.

Keith:  (skeptical)  Who with?

Mike:  Lucy, our waitress.

Keith:  Lucy? The one with the great can?

Nate:  Which one’s the can? The boobs or the butt?

Keith:  The butt.

Mike:  I thought cans were breasts.

Keith:  Well, they’re breasts if it’s plural cans. If it’s just one can, it’s her butt. Unless she has one really nice breast.

Nate:  What girl would only have one nice breast?

Keith:  I dunno. Maybe she got cancer and had the other one removed.

Nate:  Doesn’t sound like an attractive look.

Keith:  Well that’s not really the issue right now, is it Nate?

Nate:  Not sure.

Keith:  How in the heck did you land Lucy?

Mike:  I dunno. My panache?

Keith:  Absurd. Did she even see me?

Nate:  She took your order, Keith.

Keith:  And she still goes home with him? He’s the fat one!

Mike:  (frowning)  I’m husky.

Keith:  Mike’s the fat one, Nate’s the smart one and I’m the handsome one.

Mike:  Why is Nate the smart one?

Keith:  He wears glasses.

Nate:  He’s got a point.  (adjusts glasses)

Mike:  What? This is ridiculous. I’m going home to change.

Keith:  (hollering after him)  Don’t wear anything tight, fatty!

Nate:  Why are you so mean to him?

Keith:  Because I’m extremely lacking in self-confidence. Now, let’s go play cowboys and indians.

Nate:  You mean get your bow and arrow and shoot at people on the bike path?

Keith:  Correct.

Nate:  Alright.


(Mike and Lucy are laying in bed, in a post-coital state…)

Mike:  Wow.

Lucy:  (kissing Mike on the cheek)  You were great, baby.

Mike:  Did not expect that on the first date.

Lucy:  You’re a veteran. You served your country. The least I can do is serve you.

Mike:  (eyelids drooping)  You are a very good pizzeria waitress.

Lucy:  Wanna go again?

Mike:  Yeah, in a minute. Sleepy.

Lucy:  Mikey?

Mike:  Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Lucy:  (falling back on her side of the bed)  Oh, thank God.


(The next morning, Mike wakes up in the dirt. He drowsily glances around and sees Keith sitting on a nearby milk cart…)

Keith:  (grinning)  Morning, buddy.

Mike:  Wha-where am I?

Keith:  You’re in your trailer. Or at least you would be if it was still here.

Mike:  (gets up, stares at the surrounding trailers)  What? Where’d my trailer go?

Keith:  You know, I thought that waitress looked familiar. And when the police brought me in last night for shooting some hippie on a recumbent bike with my bow and arrow, I remembered where I saw her.

(Keith drops a wanted poster in Mike’s hands…)

Mike:  Lucy.

Keith:  Lucille Brava. Wanted in three states for grand theft auto and other various offenses.

Mike:  Aw, man.

Keith:  She gotcha, buddy.

Mike:  So I’m homeless again?

Keith:  ‘Fraid so, bud.

Mike:  (sighs)

Keith:  But at least you got laid, right?

Mike:  Yeah. Think I can crash with you for a bit?

Keith:  Absolutely out of the question, Mikey.

Mike:  Oh.

Keith:  But we can go shoot people on the Veazie Municipal Golf Course with my potato gun, if you want.

Mike:  Okay.

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