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November 14, 2013

The Count

#ScriptsFromRealLife

A waitress is informed about an "incident" that occurred in the pub last night. She's now charged with the responsibility of telling a regular costumer that he's no longer allowed in the establishment. 

Our regular is a man in his 60's. He wears suits and shops at the farmer's market. He's a philosopher and published poet who refers to the main drag as "the vulgar plastic avenue." Being an immigrant from one of the 'Slavs, he has a distinct accent and laugh that has him roaring like our favourite vampire from Sesame Street: The Count. "AH ah ah..."

Regrettably, THE COUNT is also an alcoholic, which clearly has disintegrated his life, his credibility and his finances. His disease has brought out the more unfortunate aspects of his character, which has him often banned from every bar in town. He is a true "undesirable." However, his quick wit and vicious tongue earned a deep appreciation in the waitress' heart. For instance...

THE WAITRESS: They banned you from the bar?

THE COUNT: I told her she was the stench that emanates from the swamp, that a prostitute has a higher place of admiration.

THE WAITRESS: (laughs) Ouch! Yeah... I can see why she didn't like that.

And thus, we return to our moment in time... a potential break in this awkward friendship.



ACT THREE, SCENE THREE


The waitress feels sick to her stomach and prays that THE COUNT won't come in. And yet if she's not the one to confront him, he will only be subject to cruelty. She realizes she's the only one who can do this.

Enter THE COUNT.

The waitress takes a deep breath...

WAITRESS: Hey... I had a note here from my boss... they said something happened here last night - I don't know what - but they said they don't want it to happen again. 

THE COUNT: Last night? I was here last night...

WAITRESS: Yeah... So I don't need to know what happened and I don't know (*Yes, she did) but they were upset and don't want you to do it again. 

THE COUNT: I don't know what it could be... I mean, I shit my pants, but that can't be it.

WAITRESS: Um... that could be it...

THE COUNT scratches his head as the waitress braces in shock. "Is this really happening to me?" 
And she can't tell what is worse; that shitting his pants is such a non issue for him or what his nonchalant admission says about her attractiveness (because she's self-absorbed). Doesn't beauty guard from certain indignities? Apparently not.

So THE COUNT banned himself, insulted by the insinuation that he did something wrong. He still carries his imports down the vulgar plastic avenue and from time to time, he sees the waitress and smiles.
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