professionalism #17

• time: where the past and the future collide
  
  
• place: parts unknown
  
  
• at rise: it is morning dark in the grease-gray hallways of [deleted]. our hero, Johnny St. Clair, is asleep in a chair made of the finest Corinthian leather. his dusty boots sit on the corner of an oak desk and empty wine bottles litter the floor.
  
  shrieks, screams, and the crash of shattered glass sound from within. presently, The Doktor enters stage left, diving behind a fake Chinese rubber plant. the spin and click of a lighter is heard, and wisps of smoke curl from behind the plant.
  
  
  

THE DOKTOR: [still crouching behind the plant, hissing] ST. CLAIR!!!

JOHNNY ST. CLAIR: ...hmmm?

DOK: ST. CLAIR!!! OVER HERE!!!

JSC: hmmmm? what do you want from me?

DOK: come here.

JSC: hmmmm? what time is it?

DOK: come on…over here…the plant…

JSC: shit. uhhh…who is that?

DOK: it’s me…

JSC: look, uh, really sorry about pissin’ on you from time to time. i, uh, can’t always make it, uh…weak prostrate.

DOK: [screaming] WILL YOU JUST COME OVER HERE FOR ONE…

JSC: oh…ok…well that’s all you really had to say.

DOK: i got a problem.

JSC: oh no shit.

ANONYMOUS OFFICE MALE#1: hey Johnny.

JSC: hey…You. just talkin’ to the plant here.

DOK: don’t draw unnecessary attention, you asshole.

JSC: right.

DOK: listen to me…i’ve got a problem.

JSC: i believe we’ve established that.

DOK: yeah, listen…

JSC: i am.

DOK: you are what?

JSC: i am…i am listening. now, please, time is of the essence.

DOK: WILL YOU JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!

ANONYMOUS OFFICE MALE#2: who said that?

JSC: the Doktor.

ANONYMOUS OFFICE MALE#2: the Doktor?

JSC: yeah…he’s…[the Doktor swings from behind the plant, cutting Johnny off in mid-sentence and narrowly missing his pants grapes] WHOA!!!

DOK: what did i say? hmmmm? WHAT DID I SAY?

JSC: alright, fuck…what’s your problem?

DOK: ok…i think…

JSC: i mean, besides the fact that you’re crouching behind a plant, fuckin’ smokin’ up a storm here in a NON-SMOKING AREA, and, you know, swingin’ for my balls and shit. i mean, what the fuck dude…

DOK: come on. concentrate. ok?

JSC: …

DOK: ok?

JSC: alright.

DOK: i think…i think…i think i might have crabs.

JSC: you think?

DOK: yes.

JSC: come on, man, there’s no thinkin’ about it. either you do or you don’t.

ANONYMOUS OFFICE FEMALE#1: hi Johnny.

JSC: mmmmm…good evening.

ANONYMOUS OFFICE FEMALE#1: who are you talking to?

JSC: hmmmm? oh…the Doktor. he has crabs and i’m just trying to…[the Doktor again swings from behind the plant, cutting Johnny off in mid-sentence, as Johnny jumps back just out of reach] you ain’t pullin’ THAT shit again!!! Ha HA…hey…where did she…

DOK: I’VE GOT CRABS YOU INSENSITIVE PIGFUCKER!!!

JSC: alright…calm down, calm down, no need to be broadcasting that shit yet.

ANONYMOUS OFFICE FEMALE#2: hi Johnny. hi Dok.

JSC, DOK: [in unison] hello.

JSC: dude…why are you still behind that plant?

DOK: it’s easier to scratch unnoticed.

JSC: yuck.

DOK: FOCUS!!! what am i supposed to do?

JSC: two options, well three, really…but i don’t think you’ll dig the third.

DOK: lay it on me. [Johnny peers awkwardly at the rubber plant] no homo.

JSC: ok…one, you shave off all your hair and rinse with gasoline or kerosene or some shit. and i mean all of it. you gotta shave your balls, your dick, shave the happy trail. i mean, you even gotta check your chest hair, eyebrows, your fuckin’ moustache…all of it.

DOK: shave your dick?

JSC: yeah man.

DOK: you got hair on your dick?

JSC: a couple strands down by the base of the shaft…

DOK: ewwwww

JSC: motherfucker, YOU’RE the one who got creepy crawlers crawlin’ on your nutsack. so don’t ‘ewwwww’ me…now, another thing you can do, is go to a drug store…

DOK: …get some crack…

JSC: …go to a drug store, get some Kwell or something…

DOK: …it’s called crack [the plant starts shaking. presumably, the Doktor is scratching his neck].

JSC: [viciously kicks the plant] get some of that shampoo…wash your balls, boil your sheets, your draws, everything.

DOK: [whimpers]

JSC: AND you gotta use that little afro-pick to comb all the eggs outta your hair.

DOK: what?

JSC: yeah man, they lay eggs in there. you gotta get everything outta there…do that shit!

DOK: what’s the third option?

JSC: keep ‘em.

DOK: keep ‘em?

JSC: yeah man…train them little bastards…like a flea circus…have them liftin’ weights and ridin’ bicycles across tightropes and shit.

ANONYMOUS OFFICE MALE#3: what’s up Johnny. [looks at the rubber plant] Dok…sucks about the crabs.

DOK: SEE WHAT YOU’VE DONE!!!

JSC: yo don’t blame that shit on me…it’s itchy aint it?

DOK: …yes…

JSC: itches like a motherfucker, don’t it?

DOK: …yes…

JSC: [shaking the plant violently] well that’s what you get, ya nasty motherfucker.

DOK: cut it out…ugh…i need some relief.

JSC: you should be glad you didn’t get burnt. now, i’ve given you the remedy, my son. be gone. go forth. heal thyself [the plant begins to shuffle towards the door – smoke still curling around its leaves, whimpers still emanating from its core – when Sgt. Kickass, company commander, enters].

KICKASS: ST.CLAIR!!!

JSC: GodDAMMIT…you almost made me crap my pants.

KICKASS: WHERE’S JOHNSON?

JSC: who?

KICKASS: DON’T GIVE ME THAT CRAP!!! YOU KNOW WHO THE FUCK I’M TALKING ABOUT, BOY!!! THAT FAIRY-ASS FRIEND OF YOURS!!!

JSC: oh…the Doktor…right, right. yeah…he ain’t here right now.

KICKASS: HE AIN’T HERE??? HE AIN’T HERE?!? WELL LISTEN, YOU TELL HIM NOT TO TOUCH A GODDAMM THING IN THIS BUILDING UNTIL HE’S TAKEN CARE OF HIS HYGENE PROBLEM!!! [slams door open, slams door closed, then leaves]

JSC: you hear that? you don’t touch a single thing around here. by my estimations, that means all the work you got piled up on your desk. you owe me.

DOK: but…but…who’ll do my job?

JSC: motherfucker…YOU don’t even do your job.

DOK: you’re right…man…this itches.

ANONYMOUS OFFICE FEMALE#3: you two are disgusting.

DOK: you think she likes me?

JSC: totally. i’m hungry. let’s get a taco.

DOK: can i keep the plant?

JSC: of course. it ain’t mine.