Mean Gene
July 5, 2007
Scene 7
(Pequod’s, morning)
GENE
(SHOUTING O.S.)
No. Take all those boxes from the top of the cooler. Right. All the paper towels and move them next to the cage. Don’t gimme a fucking look kid. Don’t fucking test me.
Try pouring concrete you don’t like it. Goddamn punk. Stinks like reefer and Puerto Rican snatch. Earn a goddamn honest living one goddamn day. Giggly cunts calling all the time. Good thing you’re good looking kid. Get away with a lot more shit that way. I know. Get away with a lot more shit.
(SHOUTING O.S.)
No, goddamn it Davey. Get the goddamn ladder from the back. Sonofabitch!
(PHONE RINGS)
Pequod’s. Yeah Tink. Yeah. No. I got him sorting out behind the coolers right now. He’s doing fine. Sure. What’s that?
What do you mean? Is the count off? So what’s the beef? Lemme understand this right. You’re bawling me out because the bills had the wrong color rubber band? I know. I know. Every hundred gets green. Every five gets red.
So fucking what. So is anything missing? No. So why are you busting my goddamn balls about a rubber band? Relax yourself Tinker. Yeah. See you in a bit.
(lights dim)
