with PG Holyfield and Tee Morris

EPISODE SCRIPT

So we were trapped inside a Mexican restaurant, held captive by a vengeful Mayan God of Truck (truck horn playing La Cucaracha) or Thunder (booming thunder) depending on how you care to look at it. 

PG — And you’ve sure got a lot of those. [NOTE: ? what does that mean?]  Me, I’m a simple man. I tried to call the cops. 

Not very sporting. 

PG — Nope. But it is easy. Or at least I thought it was. Cellphones didn’t work. No bars. And the restaurant line.

(this phone has been disconnected message) 

So we planned and plotted and generally put up with Finchy. Who was an idiot. 

FINCHY — Maybe we could light the restaurant on fire! Then the fire department could come and rescue us.” 

The bartender, up to this point our firmest friend and staunchest ally. “Miguel, mas por favor. Mas”(Blender noise) Gave Finchy a hard look and reached under the bar for something. I quickly reassured Miguel that Finchy was an idiot and we would allow no harm to come to the restaurant — or more importantly, the bar. 

Finchy — “Well we can’t just wait here until the end of time.”

PG — Why not? It’s only 2012? I spent longer than that in college. 

Patrick — Shut up Finchy, we’ve got to think.

And then the fates forced our hand. Miguel came over, and very politely told us that it was last call. Ultimo and that he must close in 20 minutes.

PG and I locked eyes. We knew what had to be done. There was no other way. We were outmatched by bloodthirsty mystic forces beyond our control. Maybe there was no honor here. After all, only survivors can wear medals.

PG — Yeah, and I never liked the guy. He cheated at golf. 

But that’s not a sin is it?

PG — Yes. Yes it is. 

Finchy, Finchy I said, we’ve taken a vote. And we’ve decided it’s time for you to go out there. 

FINCHY – But, but that’s not fair, there’s two of you and only one of me!

Patrick — Well, it’s not a perfect system, but I think we’ve got a pretty good democracy.

PG — Works for me. 

Patrick — so bottoms up, brave Finchy and out the door. 

I’d like to say he agreed and faced his end like a hero. 

(Sounds of us beating Finchy. Him sobbing and screaming like a little girl.) 

But eventually, we dragged his unconscious body out into the parking lot. 

PG — It was such a struggle, we didn’t notice that the Truck was no longer there. 

Patrick — How stupid did we look? Standing in the middle of an empty Mexican Restaurant parking lot, with our friend bound in duct tape and gagged with a bar towel. 

PG — I was beginning to think that we had made a mistake. 

(Finchy wakes up and starts screaming through the gag.)

(Thunder) 

Patrick — And then the lightning flashed. And we saw the truck at the far end of the parking lot. 

(Truck starts up. Shrieking of tires.)

PG — I ran.

Patrick — I fled in mortal terror. I was so afraid, I’m still not sure why I didn’t soil myself. In fact, I was so scared I’m not sure why my entrails weren’t trailing behind me like weather balloons. 

PG — I just ran. 

Patrick — but when we made it to the front door of the restaurant, it was locked. The bartender had turned on us. 

PG — I usually takes until the morning after to realize the bartender isn’t your friend. 

Patrick — In terror I turned back to the the truck. It accelerated towards Finchy without even a thought of slowing. I winced in anticipation of the crunching noise as the truck drove over him. But instead there was silence.

PG — Even though we didn’t hear it, the truck stopped. 

Against our better judgment we walked over to see what had happened to Finchy. 

PG — Flinchy

Flinchy. [realizes he has been fooled] What? 

PG — Gotcha.

Finchy wasn’t on the ground any longer.

PG — But then we saw him.

PG — We see Finchy being carried up the steps of the temple. 

Patrick — the airbrushed temple on the side of the truck. He was in the mural. What a brush with eldrich magic. 

PG — Eldrich? This had nothing to do with Fey magic.

It was a metaphor. 

PG — it was weird. 

Patrick — and then the truck was gone. 

PG — The one in the mural?

Both. 

PG — Yeah. 

And the thunderstorm had vanished. 

PG — It was over. We got in the car and went home. 

Patrick — We thought it was over. But the guilt of what we had done was just starting to take root in the bitter place of our souls. 

PG — Not really.

Patrick — You don’t feel bad. 

PG — Nope.

Patrick — Well, I don’t feel that bad. I mean, it was us or him right? Forces beyond our control and everything, right? 

PG — Yeah, maybe. I just didn’t like him. 

Patrick — And that’s the story. 

PG — yup. All true. 

Patrick — And the truck is still out there somewhere. The Mexican Show truck of doom. Haunting the highways of the night. 

PG — whatever. 

( Theme music )

(Truck rumbling)

End.

Featuring P.G. Holyfield and Tee Morris

EPISODE SCRIPT: 

SFX: Truck circling, deGuello playing. 

So we were in a bad spot. We were trapped in Mexican restuarant. Outside, forces, sinister and unknown. With bloodthirsty taste in music. Forces ancient and mystical, as we were soon to find out. 

PG — So I convinced my wife, Liza, to go. 

I think she thought it was a joke. 

PG — Yeah, well, when she hears the rest of this story, she’s not going to think it was so funny.

I was a little surprised at how quickly she left. 

PG — Well you ruined our night out so she wanted to save money on a sitter. 
 
I ruined your night out?

PG — That’s what she’s going to think when she hears this story.

Hey man, it’s not my fault. 

PG — Who invited the guy to play golf? 

Hey, I didn’t hit the ball into the truck, okay.

PG — I’m just telling it like it is. 

Whatever. So, we did what men do in difficult and dangerous times. We drank.

Patrick — Dos Margaritas por favor.

PG — Two.

Patrick — That’s what I said, dos.

PG — I know and I said two. 

Patrick — No, two means Dos. 

PG — I know. I want two Margaritas. 

SFX: Truck revving

PG — And you want Dos. 

Patrick — Yes I do. Make that Quatro, por favor. 

Finchy — What about me?

Patrick — buy your own drinks.

PG — See, that’s not sarcasm. Because he’s serious. 

We moved to the bar, and watched the truck circle endlessly. 

Bartender — Another round senor?

Patrick — Keep ‘em coming. It’s a shame you know. I always thought I’d die drinking Guiness. 

PG — did you think you’d die a coward?

Patrick — nope, I never thought that either. And come to think of it, I don’t think I will. What do you want to do.

PG — Do? I’m going to sit right here until that truck goes away. 

Finchy — I’m going to the bathroom. 

Patrick — (to finchy) good luck with that — (to PG) what do you mean, you can’t just sit here. 

PG — Look I’ve got a wife. I’ve got a family. And, and this is the important part, I’ve got a clue. 

Patrick — Well I don’t. Have a family that is. I’m going to go out there and see what they want. 

PG — If you don’t come back, I’m finishing your margarita. 

So, holding a cocktail napkin as an improvised flag of truce, I went outside to parley with the truck. Really. This was all some kind of misunderstanding. Had to be. After all,  It was just a windshield. And as the truck turned to face me, I could see that it had already been repaired. 

The truck pulled up alongside me. I expected it to stop at the driver’s window. But it kept going until the airbrushed mural was beside me. I thought it was some kind of mistake. Until I realized, the mural was moving. 

A slight breeze blew through the trees of the rainforest. Was that a monkey? And I could see figures descending the steps of the Mayan temple. 

As they drew closer, they appeared to be priests. They spoke in unison echoing across space and time. 

PRIESTS — bbbrrring usss.

Patrick — what?

PRIESTS — Bring usssss the short one.

Patrick — Can you be more specific, we’re all kind of short in there. 

PRIESTS — Appease Ah Peku.

Patrick — Right, the windshield. Look, Finchy’s happy to pay for that. Hell, I’ll even pay for it. We’ll both pay for it. How much do you want?

PREISTS — Bloood.

Patrick — Okay, is this one of those things where you say Blood and I say 100 bucks and we wind up meeting in the middle at like, what call it 500?

PRIESTS — Bloood.

Patrick — Guess not.  

PRIESTS — Sacrifice.

Patrick — Right. So how long are you prepared to wait anyway?
  
PRIESTS — End time. 

When I got back inside PG was frantically working his Blackberry. 

Patrick — Tell me you saw that?

PG — Yeah, I saw it. 

Patrick — What the hell was that?

PG — Just a minute. 

Patrick — What are you doing. Are you twittering this?

PG — No, Google.

Patrick — What’s it say?

PG — Well I’ve got good news and I’ve got bad news. 

Patrick — Give me the bad news.

PG — The good news is Ah Peku isn’t a curse.

Patrick — Oh, that means the bad news is really bad. When people don’t tell you the bad news, that means it’s really bad. What’s the bad news. 

PG — Mayan god of thunder. 

Patrick — What’s the Mayan God of Thunder doing on the side of a Chevvy?

PG — Well, it’s not that cut and dried. You see the Mayan gods all sort of blend together. They’re just different names for different faces of God.

Patrick — So, Ah Peku is.

PG — the God of Thunder and 

Patrick — Mexican Show Trucks

PG — Yup
 

Patrick — That’s just great. So what you’re saying is, Finchy has pissed off an ancient Mayan thunder god so bad that the Thunder God wants his still beating heart ripped from his body as part of bizzare and cruel Mayan ritual designed to bring about the end of days or something like that? 

PG — Nah, I think he’s just pissed about his windshield.

Patrick — Sounds a bit materialistic for an ancient Mayan god.

PG — Angry and vengeful. 

Patrick — Oh yeah, that will work. Still, I like it better the way I said it.  

PG — But the Mayans didn’t believe that the end of the world that was brought about. They had a fixed calendar. Says here that they believed that the world is going to end in 2012.

Patrick — 2012, that’s when all my credit cards expire. That’s kind of creepy. 

Just then Finchy came back from the bathroom. (crashing thunder) 

Finchy — what, what happened? what is it? 

(crashing thunder) 

Patrick — Uh, there’s a couple of gentlemen outside, wearing feathers and bronze. They’d like a word with you.

MUSIC

Gracious guest appearance by Liza Holyfield.

EPISODE SCRIPT:

So, where were we?

PG — 2nd hole. And you were racing down the fairway with a fugitive from a Mexican show truck on your way to score a 4 over par.

Hey, you were right behind me.

PG — Right behind you in the fairway.

Yeah, well

PG — and up to this point, it was pretty funny. Until the Mexican show truck drove out onto the golf course.

(Horn, acceleration noises)

Yeah that was nuts. Nemesis, the forces of Retribution, were coming for Finchy. Decked out in all their aftermarket parts glory.

PG — And the truck would have gotten us right there and then. Except for the bridge.

Yeah, there was a stream cutting across the golf course. And the bridge for the golf carts was too small for the Mexican for the Mexican show truck to go over.

PG — and the gulley was too deep for it to go through.

Thankfully it wasn’t a Mexican Jumping Show Truck.

PG — oh, I can’t believe you just made that joke.

What, it wasn’t that bad.

PG — Seanachai my ass.

Anyway, Finchy is white as a sheet. And all the while, there’s the truck, on the other site of this little creek (SFX: Engine revving )

Finchy turns around and yells. “Well I’m sorry!”

And the truck drives away. But not back to the road, it idles off down the first fairway. Which was disconcerting, to say the least, most of all to Finchy.

PG — He had the nerve to ask me where he should take his drop.

I don’t see PG get angry very often. He’s a professional on the golf course.

PG — I am not.

Dude, you’ve got your name stitched into your bag.

PG — So,

Anyway, when you hit a ball out of bounds,

PG — And oncoming traffic is always out of bounds.

You have to take stroke and distance.

PG — which means that Flinchy has to go all the way back to the tee and hit again.

It’s a cruel game.

PG — but there’s no way he’s crossing that stream

There be monsters ( SFX: Truck rumble ) But I wasn’t afraid.

PG — You ran into the woods!

I was looking for my ball.

PG — un-hunh

I thought we were playing ready golf. So we finished out the hole.

PG — Par

Nine

PG — And Flinchy called out

Finchy — “bogey”

PG — There’s no way he had a bogey. First of all, he should have taken an x with his illegal drop drop, but with the out of bounds,

On the next tee, I could see that Finchy was rattled. So I tried to comfort him as best I could. “Hey, Finchy, you want to get a bet going? You know, liven up the round a little bit.”

He went white as a sheet. I thought he was terrified of my golfing prowess.

PG — snort

(SFX: golf cart)

But it was two pro’s from the club house. With a distraught hispanic woman.

( SFX : Distraught hispanic woman ranting )

PG — And, the pro’s did a pretty good job of handling it.

I thought so too. They explained that, whoever hit the ball, it was covered by auto insurance. And your insurance company and the woman’s insurance company would work it out. No big deal. Happened more than you thought.

PG — But Flinchy wouldn’t own up to it. And it was none of my business. He was Patrick’s friend and I was in the other cart.

Yeah, well, golf is a funny game. It’s the only game where a player is required to call penalties on themselves. Which means, unless you’re in a tournament, or there’s a bet, you pretty much let the other guy go his own way. Everybody’s got to play their own bad shots. In volleyball, you can bail your buddy out. But golf is existential in it’s despair.

PG — What does that even mean.

It means, the responsiblity lay with Finchy. It was his ball, he had to play it.

PG — but he took his time.

It was awkward. He tried lying about it.

PG — He already lied about his score.

But eventually, he owned up to it. They exchanged information. Although I’m not too sure the woman fully understood what was going on.

PG — I think she wanted cash.

Hey, who doesn’t. But my cash was all tied up in investment gambling.

PG — and as the pro’s guided her back to the cart. She looked at all of us and said

“ah peku, ah peku, ah peku”

It must have been some ancient Mayan Curse.

PG — ah come off it. She was probably just telling us to go to hell.

Which is a curse.

PG — Whatever.

Well it would explain a lot about what happened next.

A few weeks pass, as they do, in a blur. The rains have come, and we haven’t had a chance to play much golf.

PG — So you’re saying that what happened next was nothing.

It’s a suspensful pause in the action.

PG — ‘Nothing happened’ real tension-builder there

And then, one night, after a round of golf, we decided to go out to dinner.

PG — My wife met us for dinner.

Wonderful woman. One wonders how she ever became burdened with the scintillating PG Holyfield.

PG — I tell it like it is.

You write fiction!

PG — So what? I tell it like it is

So where’d we go for dinner Mr. Tell it like it is?

PG — a restaurant

What kind of restaurant?

PG — We went to a Mexican restaurant.

And what was the name of this restaurant.

PG — Azteca.

And why, so soon after our brush with the Mayan show truck of certain and inalterable doom did we go to a Mexican retaurant?

PG — My wife wanted Mexican food. Look, it was just a coincidence.

Coincidence, I think not.

PG — It was a total coincidence. And so was running into your friend, Flinchy.

Finchy.

PG — Whatever, that nickname never made sense to me. But why was he there? Total coincidence.

Not coincidence. Fate.

PG — Well fate is pretty obnoxious. And so’s your friend Flinchy.

SFX : Restaurant ambience.

FINCHY: Hey guys what’s going on? Feista time! Hunh.

PATRICK: Hey, Finchy. It’s (?)good(?) to see you?

PG — Hello.

FINCHY: Aren’t you going to introduce me to your special lady friend.

PG — Hello.

FINCHY: Come on man, that’s just rude.

PG — Okay, Liza, this is Flinchy.

FINCHY — Finchy.

PG — (aside) Does it really matter?

LIZA — Hello.

PATRICK — So Finchy, you been playing any golf?

FINCHY — No, not since that thing with the truck.

PATRICK — Oh yeah, what happened with that?

FINCHY — Oh man, you’ll never believe it. I totally got away with it.

PG — Got away with it?

FINCHY — Yeah, I mean, I gave her my insurance information. And she scrawled something on a piece of paper. Turns out it was bogus. She didn’t have insurance at all! Serves her right.

PATRICK — Serves her right for what?

PG — ( aside ) He lied about his score.

FINCHY — For driving without insurance.

PATRICK — Yeah, but you hit a golf ball into her windshield.

FINCHY — Serves her right.

LIZA — Well it was nice to meet you.

FINCHY — (confused) It was nice to meet you too.

PG — She’s asking you to leave, Flinchy.

And with that, Finchy slunk back to the bar. And we told the whole story to Liza. And she got all of it. The bit about the way a person plays golf being a good indicator of their character.

PG — She understood, instinctively, that you’re not a very good golfer.

Better golfer than Finchy.

PG — Well, yeah.

The only part she had trouble with was the idea of the Mexican Show Truck.

LIZA — I don’t get it. What makes it a show truck?

PG — It’s showy.

LIZA — How?

PATRICK — Well, you know how you trick out a, it’s kind a like show dogs. People love them, go crazy over them

SFX: truck engine creeping closer and closer.

LIZA — oh, you mean like that truck? Is that a Mexican show truck?

PATRICK — Except that it wasn’t a, it was the. Capital THE. Fate. Nemesis. Finchy’s black destiny come for him at –

PG — (interrupting) It was the same truck from the golf course. And it was yellow.

PATRICK – Yeah, but it’s a symbol. A menacing symbol.

PG — If it was a story, it would be a symbol. But this really happened, so it’s a truck. A menacing truck. A menacing yellow truck.

Just then Finchy came over and said.

FINCHY — Oh my god, it’s them. You gotta help me.

(SFX: music creeps in from underneath.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FbtKClGm1l8&feature=related)

PATRICK — Oh ho ho, look at the time. We’ve got to go. Looks like you’re buying a windshield buddy. Check please.

PG — That was sarcasm.

FLINCHY — Please, hide me, help me.

PG — See he’s really not your buddy.

FLINCHY — What about you?

PG — Oh, sorry pal.

LIZA — It was nice to meet you.

Patrick — Hey. What’s that song? I’ve heard it somewhere before.

It was De Guello. The cutthroat song. The same song that Santa Ana played for the men in the Alamo. It meant, “no quarter.” And just as I realized this, just as we were about to step out the door Finchy said, “You know, they know what you look like. They probably think you’re in on it.”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FbtKClGm1l8

[*PG -- I always wanted to be in The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.

No, this is De Guello. The cutthroat song.

P.G. -- first 3rd would be enough

The same song that Santa Ana played for the men in the Alamo.

P.G. -- Flinchy could come in towards the end

It meant, "no quarter."

PG -- you're really not listening to me at all are you?

What?

PG -- Oh, nothing.*]

PG — I didn’t like Flinchy, but he was right. So then.

Ahh, no.

PG — What? No. You can’t

Patrick — Yes I can.

PG — You ARE a cliffhangering bastard.

Patrick — Guilty as charged.

MUSIC

–

featuring the dead-pan artistry of P. G. Holyfield of Murder at Avedon Hill

EPISODE SCRIPT

So, I’ve playing golf with PG Holyfield. A few rounds here and there, we even played in a tournament. It’s been great fun.

PG – It’s okay. At least it’s hasn’t rained on us.

And there’s a couple of things you might not know about P.G. Holyfield. 1) his first name isn’t really PG

PG – That would be weird.

It’s Patrick. And 2, he’s an excellent golfer

PG – I’m okay.

No really, his scores generally have names and everything. You know Par, Birdie — I’ve even seen him get an Eagle.

PG — and double bogey.

But still, they have names. The only name the number 9 has on a golf course is shame.

PG — (little laugh)

So the other day we set out with a friend of mine. And we’ll…

PG — it was an adventure

Yeah, it was… uh.

PG — Yeah.

The point is that we can’t sum it up in a single sentence. So we’re going to tell you the story.

PG — And I’m going to make sure he tells you the truth.

Truth? Nobody wants the truth. They want a good story.

PG — Not for non-fiction.

Okay, George Washington, take it away with the truthlesiosity parade.

PG — What?

You start.

PG — So Patrick brings this friend of his along, can we say his real name.

Let’s use a nickname. Let’s call him Finchy.

PG — Flinchy?

No, Finchy, like the bird. What.

PG — It doesn’t make any sense.

It doesn’t have to, it’s a nickname.

PG — but

Nom du plume. Nom du guerre. Nom du histroie.

PG — whatever. We’re playing golf and Patrick brings a friend. We play the first hole. And he seems to play okay. But when we get to the second hole — things fall apart a little.

What are you talking about, you cranked one. Mr. “real deal” holyfield

PG — I was talking about you. And your friend flinchy.

Finchy, Finchy. But I will grant you he was kind of a scared little guy. Anyway my drive wasn’t that bad. I pounded one down the right side.

PG — and then over the right side, into the woods.

Oh, that. That’s not a problem. That’s merely an opportunity for glory.

PG — Glory?

Oh yeah, glory. And you see, if I had gotten it out of there on the green and sank the putt for there for birdie or par

PG — birdie?

or par, think about how demoralized you would have been. I would have won the round right there. Sure it’s a risky play. But think of the reward. Think of the glory.

PG — yeah, but you didn’t make a par.

Well, I — I was a little distracted by events.

PG — yeah. me too.

Because Finchy steps up to the tee. And does something I’ve never seen him do. He swings, and duck hooks one, right onto the road. I mean I couldn’t have been more surprised if his head had fallen off his neck and pez had gone flying everywhere.

PG — that would have surprise me more.

Yeah, but you know what I’m saying. It was unexpected.

PG — not the way you play.

And time went all weird, you know. You know, that moment when the brakes lock in the accident and everything sloooows down.

PG — he hit a truck.

Why do you do that?

PG — he did.

Yeah, but the suspense, the poetry of the moment.

PG — if you keep it up, we’re never going to get through this story.

Yeah, but if I don’t describe it properly, people won’t get it.

PG — He hit a truck in the windshield.

Finchy didn’t hit just any truck. He hit a Mexican show truck. This thing was magnificent. Bright yellow. And exhaust conversion kit that created semi-style smokestack pipey things on a crew-cab. And it was airbrushed all over. Along the side was a lush jungle scene with a Mayan temple, a beautiful native woman and, so help me God, a painting of the truck itself. Clearly, someone loved this this truck.

PG — Don’t forget the golf ball sized crater in the windshield.

Oh and the windshield – it was so tinted, the only thing it reflected was the blackness of men’s souls. You see that?

PG — No, I didn’t see any souls.

No, the foreshadowing. That was foreshadowing.

PG — Un-hunh. So I’d never seen this either. But then something really odd happened. Flinchy jumped into the cart and started screaming at Patrick, “Drive, drive.” and Patrick takes off.

Well, what did I care. I mean that was between Finchy (empahsis) and the driver of the truck. I had a ball in play. In play for glory.

PG — You were an idiot.

Oh come on, how was I supposed to know what was going to happen?

PG — Foreshadowing

Ah, there’s really not any foreshadowing in real life.

PG — tell them what happened next.

What, I got a nine on the hole.

PG — No, with the truck.

I think we’re out of time. It will have to be the next episode.

PG — cliffhangering bastard.

It’s not my fault you talk so much.

PG — me?

MUSIC