Post by Lawnmower Jones on Jul 12, 2006 14:06:19 GMT -5
The scene opens inside of the shed we had last seen Lawnmower Jones in. There are no lights on, because a curtain must be open. The sunlight is shining through a window and hitting the table that is placed in the center of the shed. We see Lawnmower Jones pacing around the shed, with a bottle of Budweiser in his hand. His face is beet red and he is sweating, while still wearing his normal attire of blue overalls and workboots. Lonnie, his lawnmower, is "sitting" across the table.
LJ: NO!
Lawnmower Jones takes a long swig. When he is done, he smashes the butt of the bottle against the table, watching it shatter to thousands of little pieces. He waves the neck towards Lonnie, in a threatening manner.
LJ: Don't fuckin' toy with me, woman! Do you know what I'm going through? Don't you ever think about me?
Lawnmower Jones lets out a loud scream in frustration.
LJ: I've got to fight some 6'9 bloke this week named Red Apocalypse or somethin', plus I didn't win my first match here, because SOMEONE dumped the contents of your uteras on me!
Lonnie just stares at Jones.
LJ: Oh, that's real fucking mature, Lonnie, blame it on me! You coulda warned me, ya know? Anyways, back to the point! I ain't gonna let ya! Do you know what people do with that? Ya don't, do ya? Well, I do, because I used too!
Jones pauses for a moment. He breathes in deeply, and after a moment, let's out, throwing his bottle and pushing the table over. He gets in front of Lonnie and leans down, with a mean, quivering, beat red face. He speaks softly.
LJ: You're not posing for Sears magazine. It's a disgrace to the whole world, any machine that would prostitute their beautiful bodies for some magazine. And you, Lonnie, are better than that.
After a moment of staring, Lawnmower Jones yells again. He is storming around the shed. He makes his way to the refrigerator and opens it, taking out another bottle of Bud.
LJ: Fine! Fine! Do what you want! I'm outta here! Don't fuckin' worry about me, you silly little whore!
Jones kicks open the shed door and walks off, drinking the beer. He mutters to himself.
LJ: See if I care. Stupid Sears. Won't give me any, we'll see!
Scene fades to black, with the words as follows in white.
To be continued........
LJ: NO!
Lawnmower Jones takes a long swig. When he is done, he smashes the butt of the bottle against the table, watching it shatter to thousands of little pieces. He waves the neck towards Lonnie, in a threatening manner.
LJ: Don't fuckin' toy with me, woman! Do you know what I'm going through? Don't you ever think about me?
Lawnmower Jones lets out a loud scream in frustration.
LJ: I've got to fight some 6'9 bloke this week named Red Apocalypse or somethin', plus I didn't win my first match here, because SOMEONE dumped the contents of your uteras on me!
Lonnie just stares at Jones.
LJ: Oh, that's real fucking mature, Lonnie, blame it on me! You coulda warned me, ya know? Anyways, back to the point! I ain't gonna let ya! Do you know what people do with that? Ya don't, do ya? Well, I do, because I used too!
Jones pauses for a moment. He breathes in deeply, and after a moment, let's out, throwing his bottle and pushing the table over. He gets in front of Lonnie and leans down, with a mean, quivering, beat red face. He speaks softly.
LJ: You're not posing for Sears magazine. It's a disgrace to the whole world, any machine that would prostitute their beautiful bodies for some magazine. And you, Lonnie, are better than that.
After a moment of staring, Lawnmower Jones yells again. He is storming around the shed. He makes his way to the refrigerator and opens it, taking out another bottle of Bud.
LJ: Fine! Fine! Do what you want! I'm outta here! Don't fuckin' worry about me, you silly little whore!
Jones kicks open the shed door and walks off, drinking the beer. He mutters to himself.
LJ: See if I care. Stupid Sears. Won't give me any, we'll see!
Scene fades to black, with the words as follows in white.
To be continued........
