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Date Posted: 12:31:49 03/12/03 Wed
Author: Craig Lassiter
Subject: Same old Same old

[The scene opens on a rather busy street in downtown Montreal. It is night, but the revellers are still staggering by in groups of three and four. Zeke places his small camcorder down on a concrete step, and pulls out a cigarette pack and lighter. Zeke is dressed in dark blue cords and a red turtleneck sweater. His long hair even looks as if it has been combed recently. As Zeke lights up, Craig Lassiter staggers out of a nearby building, with a glass in his hand. He is dressed in black slacks and a casual grey collared shirt that is wrinkled and missing a few buttons. His short hair has been mussed and his collar is hanging up at a weird angle. Craig's face is red and his eyes are glossy. The sign over the door reads "The Flesh Pit" in bright red neon. Craig barely gets a step out the door before a huge arm shoots out and grabs the glass from his hand. He throws up his arms in mute protest, but forgets about it and staggers over towards Zeke.]

Craig: Now that... was somethin'.

Zeke: Dude, I think I burned out my retinas or something. My eyes don't register pink anymore.

[Craig laughs and slaps Zeke on the back, almost falling over. He steadies himself against a wall, turns his back, and quickly urinates in an alcove. Turning back, Craig pats his pockets before finding his metal hipflask in the back pocket of his pants. He opens it up and takes a swig, offers Zeke one but he declines, and returns it to his pocket.]

Craig: Did you shee that one... wit the big tits?

Zeke: Dude, they all had big tits. Well, except for that bald chick with the piercings.

[Craig starts to shamble off in one direction, bidding Zeke to follow him.]

Craig: C'mon, I gotta get some peeza.

[Zeke picks up his camcorder and follows. The two pass dozens of bars and clubs, several of which have rather scantily clad women standing outside the doors. After a few minutes, Craig staggers into a pizza parlor. Zeke stubs out his cigarette and returns the unsmoked portion to his pack before entering. Once inside, Craig pulls out his wallet, and fumbles through the contents.]

Craig: Shjezus. Zheke, you god any money?

[Twenty minutes later, Zeke and Craig are seated at a booth, chowing down on two huge slices of pizza.]

Zeke: Dude, how come we never have any adventures?

Craig: Wha?

Zeke: I see Lee Todd and all those guys, and they are always having these wacky adventures where they meet up with strange characters and usually end up in a fight or something. But we just drive around in an RV, and occasionally eat.

Craig: Lemme tellyousomethin' Zheke. An I'm not kiddin around eider. (he swallows a large mouthful of cheese) I believe in karma Zheke.

Zeke: Really?

Craig: (holding up his hands) Now beforeyougosayin ahm a wacko and stuff, hear me out. Sher, a lodda bad stuff happens to good people... thad's a given. Bud I think it all evens out in the end, you get me?

[Zeke nods, and Craig starts to slow down his speech to give his alcohol addled brain a chance to catch up.]

Craig: People who are nice, and good, and nice, and think aboud the comfort of others before demselves... well, dey are the ones who have a good life. (holding a finger in the air) BECAUSE...

[Craig looks around, surprised by the volume of his own voice and reverts to a whisper.]

Craig: Because they feel good inside. Dey know that dey made someone feel better, even if they didn't even know it themselves. It's like dat old sayin... "Do until others what they do until you."

[Zeke just nods.]

Craig: Yeah, think about it.

Zeke: That's pretty deep, dude. But it doesn't really explain why nothing exciting happens to us.

Craig: Zeke?

Zeke: Yeah?

Craig: Zeke, I think I'm gonna throw up.

[The scene cuts to a TV news report. A perma-smiling reporter with a bad wig is reading smoothly off a teleprompter. To his right, an image of a pistol overlapping a pizza appears.]

Reporter: And on the lighter side, an attempted armed robbery was foiled at Pancho's Pizza tonight... in rather "unsettling" fashion.

[The news report cuts to grainy CCTV footage of a pizza parlor. A man in a ski mask brandishing a pistol is demanding cash from the aproned man behind the counter. Then, the figure of a rather drunk man staggers up out of one of the booths, and vomits on the floor behind the criminal. The man spins around, slips on the puke, and slams his head against the counter. Another figure, with long hair and a beard jumps out of the same booth and grabs the pistol, pointing it at the criminal. As the show cuts back to the newsdesk, the reporter gives a light chuckle before continuing.]

Reporter: The man who was... ill... didn't stick around to give his name, but the bearded gentlemen held the would-be robber at gunpoint until police arrived. Miguel Pancho, the owner of the store, was so delighted that he offered the hero free pizza for life.

[The image of the pizza disappears to show a picture of a smiling Zeke, wearing a "Pancho's Pizza" T-shirt over his turtleneck and holding up a slice. The caption under his name reads "Stu Pidass."]

Reporter: We'll be right back after these messages with sports, and weather with "Warm Front" Gene Fontaine.

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