Finish The Damn Story, Will 'Ya?

"Time for the chili cook-off, eh? Ha, ha! This ain't Chuck Yeager c_cksucker!"

Okay, did you say, DELTA? Oh, I wrote it down someplace...just a minute. Brain jacked! Where is it, where is it, where is it? Crap, First Officer Kennedy! Let's do something else, like not crash the usa, because when I wrote down, "Detroit was a DC-9, not a 737," IT HAS "DISAPPEARED." Before my mentally ill self "diverts" to Tenerife, or Japan Air 123...let's go instead to HUGHES AIRCRAFT/DAVID COPPERFIELD with the mandatory two 1000 Oaks witnesses in my very own "Gang of 3."

GOT A CIG? GOT A LIGHT? (a pathetic civilian one-act play)

ANDREA CANNING

Did they buy you cigs?

HUGHES

Yes.

ANDREA CANNING

What was the, uh, guard's overhead?

HUGHES

Two to Darrel, the Great Darrel, two to a stranger as a consequence of a Ralph's lot cig jacking.

ANDREA CANNING

How many did you smoke?

HUGHES

Six.

ANDREA CANNING

How many left after that weekend?

HUGHES

Five.

ANDREA CANNING

Where'd the rest go?

HUGHES

Ben 3.0 smoked them.

ANDREA CANNING

Who is he?

HUGHES

A poet.

ANDREA CANNING

We have a report you, ah, drank some...

HUGHES

Now listen to me, you [BLEEP]. I have ditched the mafia, and intend on ordering a pint in Dublin, where they are the most bankrupt of my EU gonna kick usa's butt nations, and say, "Hey! I was born in Saint Louis! How the *uck did that happen?" "Here, here" they will say, you lousy Disney [BLEEP], tell us the one about the gold lighter! C'mon!" Alright, I will say, and what a bunch of lackluster bastard descendants of James Joyce you all are! I was blessed with a whole pack of Marlboro Res one hundreds, and.....