The 411

3 types of tabasco sauce

3 types of tabasco sauce (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Openning Stand-Up Bit

So whether you believe in Heaven or not, you have to admit that it would be pretty cool. You can only imagine the small talk up there. “Hi, Roy, my name’s Harry, nice to meet ya.”

“You too.”

“So how’d you die?”

Hell would be different, obviously. More like, “What are ya in for?” Well eternity, obviously.

And of course Purgatory. You can only hope that it’s more like a doctor’s office than the DMV. What if you didn’t bring anything to read? I’m telling you, I’m putting in my will to bury me with a couple thriller novels.

Shot of Sheldon’s apartment as if from car on street. Sheldon’s room. A shot of Sheldon and Niko sitting side-by-side. A close-up of Sheldon’s face. He is intent and then suddenly bewildered.

SHELDON: Aysh! I shot you first. . . Shairmootah.

Close-up of Niko’s face. He is dreamy-eyed, his head sways back and forth. Vida clambers in, sighs, and tosses her purse on the bed.

NIKO: Hey, hon! You look tired. How was work?

VIDA: It was great. And thanks for saying I look tired.

Sheldon raises eyebrows at Niko who shrugs pathetically.

NIKO: Oh, sweety, I didn’t mean… Go lay down and I’ll massage your feet.

SHELDON: (smugly to himself) This is why I do not have a girlfriend.

VIDA: Oh. . . ok. (She lies down.) What did you do today, Ni-cutie?

 (removes her shoes.) Well, let’s see what did I do. . ?

VIDA: What were you watching on the laptop?

Camera sweeps from Sheldon gunning down an enemy on Counter Strike on his laptop to Shakira’s She Wolf video on Niko’s screen.

NIKO: (massaging her feet thoroughly) Now I remember, I got some lunch around the corner, I ran around the neighborhood, pretty boring suburbia really. . .

VIDA: (coolly) I think Shakira would feel disappointed if you left her out.

NIKO: Yeah, I was listening to some music and checking my e-mail just now.

VIDA: So you just happened to pick a song with a visually appealing video?

SHELDON: Are you kidding? Ana bawoola he watched it five times, twice with no sound.

NIKO: (laughs nervously) Come on. . .  the choreography.

VIDA: Ow! Why so hard on my ankles? I told you. . !

NIKO: (drops his head, swallows hard) I’m sorry. I just missed you.

SHELDON: And Shakira too, huh?

NIKO: Oh stop it and go get killed by that guy again.

VIDA: I knew it, Niko. I suppose you were going to tell me too.

NIKO: Well, of course. . . if you asked.

VIDA: I did.

NIKO: He didn’t give me a chance. Which is weird, usually he takes my side. What the heck was that about Shell?

SHELDON: Last night and this morning?

NIKO: Oh shoot. The dishes.

SHELDON: Yeah buddy.

VIDA: Why didn’t you do ’em?

NIKO: I’m sorry. I should have. . .

VIDA: He’s our friend not our mom, Niko.

NIKO: Look, Sheldon, it won’t happen again, I promise. And Vida, I don’t see you covered in dishwater every night either.

VIDA: I don’t make dishes.

NIKO: No, you don’t, do you? You just eat off my plate. He forces a sarcastic smile.

SHELDON: When are you guys moving again?

VIDA: Today. As long as we get the truck.

Sheldon looks anxious.

NIKO: I took care of it. The Move-It truck is ours at 12:30.

SHELDON: Hamdullah.

Black out. Front view of Niko and Vida in the car, Niko is driving.

VIDA: 1642, 1648, I don’t see it.

NIKO: Babe, I told you, it’s an odd number, it’s on the other side. But I don’t see it either.

VIDA: We’re supposed to be there in three minutes.

NIKO: I know. It’s okay. I’ll just free 411 it.

VIDA: No. I hate that thing.

NIKO: I’m the one listening to the ads, not you.

VIDA: If you would just pay ten more dollars, I would have the data plan. That thing is stupid and it takes forever.

NIKO: Ssshh! Move-It Truck Rental.

Phone speaker, a computerized woman’s voice:Are you searching by the name or type of business?

Niko slaps himself with his phone and whines.

VIDA: Wait, there it is!

The car squeals to a stop. Niko presses the hazard lights button. He looks back and reverses. An overhead shot of the car and street reveal that he just missed the entrance, and is attempting to back up 10 meters to pull into it. A shot from the rear window shows an SUV approaching from a distance. Niko continues edging backwards, the SUV closing in, undaunted or unaware.

VIDA: Ishu, Musa, Mohammed, what is she doing?

NIKO: I have no idea. Can’t they see my emergency lights?

VIDA: She’s stopping.

NIKO: Wave her around, will you please?

Vida does so.

NIKO: Dear lord, what is she waiting for?

VIDA: I swear man, women should not drive.

NIKO: I don’t know if I’d go that far, but this lady. . .

After a few seconds she slowly puts on her blinker and passes on the left. She gives a distraught look as she passes by.

NIKO: I’m driving here. (he completes his manuever and parks in the lot) You know, anyone can just cruise along on the highway and stop at the red lights. That–that was driving.

VIDA: Niko?

NIKO: Unbuckles his seatbelt. What?

VIDA: This isn’t the right lot.

NIKO: Looks up defiantly. But I. . . (his expression turns to dismay) Oh.

Black out. The wide Move-It sign is shown. Nico and Vida pull out of the lot in a 16 foot moving truck.

VIDA: I want that cat.

NIKO: I know ya do hon.

VIDA: So we need to get a bed and a litter box and food and toys.

NIKO: Do we have to get one right now? Don’t get me wrong, I like Flower too.

VIDA: Yes, we do.

NIKO: Ok. It’s just that it’s a responsibility. It isn’t cheap either.

VIDA: She is a responsibility.

NIKO: Okay, tell you what. She’s your responsibility then. As soon as you forget to clean her litter box or give her fresh water, I’m taking her back to the Humane Society.

VIDA: (scoffs.) Fine.

To be continued.


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