Three Assholes – Episode 205
Nate, Mike & Keith are childhood Maine friends. They’re also assholes.
Episode 205– The Last Race
Keith: What do you mean you can’t cash this check, Nick?
Nick: Because that ain’t your name, Keith.
Keith: Gloria DuBois is an alias. I’m a spy like that girl on Alias. The fuck’s her name, Sally Alias?
Nick: Sorry, buddy. Can’t help you.
Keith: Nicholas, am I gonna have to rob this goddam cash checking store again?
Nick: Please don’t rob my store, Keith.
Keith: Well, you said ‘please’.
Mike: Still don’t know why we can’t spend your dad’s money.
Keith: ‘Cause I’m too proud, dammit!
Nate: (frowns) Are you wearing women’s sweatpants?
Keith: Laundry day. Listen, I got a way we can make fast money now.
Nate: Cash for gold?
Mike: Gold for cash?
Keith: Are you guys saying ‘for’ or substituting the number ‘4’, because I hate when people–no, we’re gonna bet on the ponies.
Nate: (walks behind Keith, smiles) Your butt says ‘Sassy Girl’.
(A Hall Security guard is roughly pushing Keith, Nate and Mike out of Penobscot Downs…)
Keith: Well, how were we supposed to know you’re not allowed to pet ’em!
Guard: You had the animal fully aroused, you sicko.
Keith: (shrugs) Just wanted to see if the rumors are true.
Nate: Well, now how are we gonna bet on horses?
Mike: Nope. That’s a band.
Mike: There it is.
(A Hall Security guard is roughly pushing Keith, Nate and Mike out of Veazie Off-Track Betting…)
Keith: Jeez, you guys are everywhere now.
Guard: No drinking in the OTB.
Keith: But drinking makes horse racing come alive, numbnuts!
Nate: 0 for 2. Now what?
Keith: I’ve got one more plan that will blow the horse track and the OTB clear out of the water.
Mike: You’re gonna hook the TV up on the front lawn of my trailer park and get drunk, aren’t you?
Keith: What? No.
(That afternoon, on the front lawn of Chickadee Trailer Park…)
Mike: Hand me another black and tan, Nate.
(Keith, Mike and Nate are set up on Mike’s front lawn with an extension cord leading from Mike’s portable television to his next-door neighbor’s trailer…)
Keith: (sighs happily) Now this is the life. Some brews, some ponies, the great outdoors. Can’t beat this.
Nate: This is nice and all; but how are we gonna wager on horses out here in the middle of nowhere?
Keith: Easy peasy, my neezy. (dials cellphone) Yeah, hola Ramon. Put a hundred bucks on Crazy Larry in the fourth. … Gracias, esé.
Mike: Who’s Ramon?
Keith: Janitor at the OTB. He’ll be making all our wagers for us today, gentlemen.
Mike: Can he be trusted with our money?
Keith: Michael, he’s a janitor. There is no more trusted line of work in all the world. These proud men and women enter our places of business long after we’ve all gone off to slumberland and we trust them implicitly not to rifle through our desks and steal our pens and tape. I would entrust a janitor with my life.
Mike: Whatever. Here’s our race.
(Mike, Nate and Keith stand up and start cheering on their horse as he takes the lead going into the final stretch…)
Announcer: And down the stretch they come! Crazy Larry in the lead by four horse-lengths over Steve the Horse!
Keith: Oh, we should’ve picked Steve the Horse.
Nate: He’s losing!
Keith: Yeah, but he’s got a better name. Tells you exactly what he is. He’s a horse and his name is Steve.
Announcer: And at the line, it’s–
(The screen goes black and Mike kicks his folding chair in a rage…)
Mike: What in the sweet fuck?
(Mike spins around to see his elderly next-door neighbor, Harry Campbell, holding the extension cord in his hand, his jaw clenched tight…)
Harry: I thought I told you worthless pieces of garbage to stop stealing my electricity and stay the hell off my lawn!
Mike: First of all Harry, we’re just borrowing your electricity because I currently don’t have any because I can’t pay my bills because The Man. And secondly, we’re not on your lawn; we’re on my lawn.
Harry: You had to get on my lawn to get in my trailer.
Keith: Not true. Could have rappelled down from above.
Harry: There’s nothing to rappel down from, Kowalski. You Polish idiot.
Keith: (shoving a finger in the elderly man’s face) Now listen here, you crotchety old bag of bones. You plug that TV back in so we can see if Crazy Larry beat Steve the Horse and won us gobs of cash; or I’m gonna come over there — on your lawn — and punch you so hard that you’ll file senior abuse charges against me.
(Harry clutches at his chest and collapses to the ground…)
Keith: Oh my God, I killed him with my words of anger.
Nate: (checks pulse) No, I think he just had a heart attack.
Keith: Oh, thank goodness. Let’s plug the tube back in real quick.
Keith: And call an ambulance. Jeez, guys.
(That evening at EMMC, Harry is in a hospital bed while Mike, Nate and Keith are loudly playing the horse races on his hospital room TV…)
Keith: Run, you stupid sow!
Mike: That’s for cows.
Keith: Run, you stupid…girl-horse!
Keith: (on the phone) Yeah, thanks Ramon. Yes, I know we should have picked Steve the Horse. I know. Way better name, right? Tells you exactly what he is!
Harry: (rousing from his medically-induced slumber) What the? Where am I? What are you nincompoops doing in here?
Keith: You had a heart attack, ’cause you can’t handle how extreme I am. Also, Ramon says hi.
Doctor: Mr. Campbell, we’re gonna have to keep you here overnight for observation.
(Mike, Nate and Keith exchange grins…)
(Late that evening, the three assholes are dancing around Harry Campbell’s trailer with all the lights and appliances on…)
Keith: (raising roof) Whooo! Electricity party!