Post by scatman on May 3, 2009 6:09:05 GMT -5
[Open to a big old yellowed fridge, Scatman is making a club sandwich. He rustles around with his back to the camera, pulling out salt, a head of lettuce and some cherry tomatoes. He slams the door shut with his butt and casually walks across to the countertop.]
Scatman: Ah, the sweet life.
[He plops two slices of seeded bread on to a plate, grinds pepper onto them generously, and carefully arranges the lettuce and tomatoes on top.]
Scatman: *whistles*
[He then unscrews a jar of chocolate sauce and takes a big whiff. It’s not chocolate sauce.]
Scatman: Making poo sandwiches all day long!
[He reaches past a tin with the word ‘cake’ on it (which is filled with nails and metal filings) and grabs a handful of mushrooms before tossing them onto the sandwich. He then opens an unmarked box and throws some dead birds and squirrels into the mix. He closes the sandwich and presses down on it firmly before cutting it in two with a knife.]
Scatman: Perfect.
[He picks the Only World Title That Matters up off the table and throws it over his shoulder. He grabs a beer and walks into the next room, where Jerri Li and Christian St. Christian are sat watching TV. Scatman sits down in a leather chair, cracks open the beer and takes a long, frothy sip. Jerri and St. Christian just sit there staring at him.]
Scatman: What?
[They turn their attention to the big gold belt dangling from his shoulder. Scatman suddenly has the biggest shit eating grin ever plastered across his face.]
Scatman: Oh hell yeah!
Scatman: Ah, the sweet life.
[He plops two slices of seeded bread on to a plate, grinds pepper onto them generously, and carefully arranges the lettuce and tomatoes on top.]
Scatman: *whistles*
[He then unscrews a jar of chocolate sauce and takes a big whiff. It’s not chocolate sauce.]
Scatman: Making poo sandwiches all day long!
[He reaches past a tin with the word ‘cake’ on it (which is filled with nails and metal filings) and grabs a handful of mushrooms before tossing them onto the sandwich. He then opens an unmarked box and throws some dead birds and squirrels into the mix. He closes the sandwich and presses down on it firmly before cutting it in two with a knife.]
Scatman: Perfect.
[He picks the Only World Title That Matters up off the table and throws it over his shoulder. He grabs a beer and walks into the next room, where Jerri Li and Christian St. Christian are sat watching TV. Scatman sits down in a leather chair, cracks open the beer and takes a long, frothy sip. Jerri and St. Christian just sit there staring at him.]
Scatman: What?
[They turn their attention to the big gold belt dangling from his shoulder. Scatman suddenly has the biggest shit eating grin ever plastered across his face.]
Scatman: Oh hell yeah!