Scene
Three: A Jail.
DRAKE:
DYLAN??
DYLAN:
What’s up bro. [Enthusiastically.]
DRAKE:
What are YOU doing here?
DYLAN:
Peaceful protest.
DRAKE:
I see. Vaguely.
DYLAN:
I was arrested by the government for singing subversive lyrics.
DRAKE:
You are in a band now?
DYLAN:
Yeah dude. It’s P.D.R.M.
DRAKE:
Pardon?
DYLAN:
Post-Death Revival Metal.
DRAKE:
Got ya.
DYLAN:
[Pause.] Aren’t you going to ask what’s it called?
DRAKE:
What’s it called?
DYLAN:
AMORAL CLITORIS.
DRAKE:
Fitting title.
DYLAN:
[Pause.] I guess now I am supposed to ask you to recite some of your lyrics.
DRAKE:
You ready? [anxiously grinning.]
DYLAN:
Yes.
[Dylan
belts out a series of unintelligible, subversive growls.]
DRAKE:
Wow. I see why they put you away.
DYLAN:
Don’t worry about it. I’ve got friends in low places.
DRAKE:
That I’m sure of.
DRAKE:
You know: Some days I want to just come out and say: WORLD. Drake needs to get
LAID.
DYLAN:
Social networking.
DRAKE:
But that’s the issue. Wow. My cynical intellect really DOES seem to be the only
lucid aspect of this dream.
DYLAN:
Until lucid reason notes its limits.
DRAKE:
Tell me about it. You remind me of Jasmine. She told me that this dream will
not make sense. But that I will.
DYLAN:
Yup.
DRAKE:
So that means: As I was saying. It comes OFF as really self-entitled if you are
a guy because some guys just have so MUCH sex it’s like Hey: save some for the
rest of us.
DYLAN:
Oh yeah.
DRAKE:
But then: some guys are total virgins. And somehow it comes off JUST as
self-entitled THAT way.
DYLAN:
Not for long though.
DRAKE:
How come?
DYLAN:
[grins slyly.] You remember the friends in low places I was telling you about?
DRAKE:
I don’t believe we’ve met.
DYLAN:
Regardless. They are going to bust us out of here.
DRAKE:
REALLY?
DYLAN:
Yeah. The revolution’s coming.
DRAKE:
The… Revolution.
[A
young blonde woman, voluptuous and short, appears.]
DRAKE:
Ariana.
ARIANA:
Shh. I’m here to bust you out.
DRAKE:
True to fucking form.
DM.A.A.
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