Dogma Page #14

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The Gang stares, mystified. Rufus and Bethany can't move they're so

frightened.

JAY:

You think every white boy cowers at your ass? Sh*t, if I don't f***ing

plant you - watermelon - my muscle here will.

(thumbs at Silent Bob)

What do you think he is? My boy friend? I love chicks. So he's gotta be

with me for one reason: to watch my back. Silent Bob doesn't talk in words

- he speaks in bullets. Re's all quiet cause he's thinking about how he's

gonna take you and your b*tches out quick enough to piss on the bullets in

your bodies before they cool down. You know why? Because he likes to see

the hot steam coming off them when he sprays them down. Come to think of

it, I~m tired of talking to your dumb ass; you probably don't even

understand big words like 'piss'. Tell you what - I'll let him explain it

to you.

(to Silent Bob)

Silent Bob - shoot these punk-monkey b*tches.

Silent Bob slowly raises his hands in a surrender fashion. Jay looks at

him.

JAY:

What are you waiting for?!

Silent Bob shrugs.

JAY:

(flabbergasted)

YOU DON'T RAVE A GUN?!?

Silent Bob kind of nods

JAY:

(shocked)

WHAT THE F*** DO YOU MEAN? ALL THIS TIME WE'VE BEEN TOGETHER, AND YOU DON'T

HAVE A GUN?!?

Silent Bob indicates the negative, sheepishly.

JAY:

THAT'S JUST F***ING GREAT! DO YOU THINK I

WOULD'VE SAID ALL THAT IF I'D KNOWN YOU

DIDN'T HAVE A GUN?!?

(beat)

HUNHH?!?

Silent Bob raises his eyebrows remorsefully. The Gang snickers and smiles.

GANG LEADER:

What was that about a coconut?

Jay shakes his head and glowers at Silent Bob.

JAY:

No gun! What the f*** kind of muscle are you?! All this time and you got no

gun!

GANG LEADER:

Oh boys! We have some unfinished business here.

JAY:

(sheepishly)

Can we talk this over?

GANG LEADER:

Tell you what - you got thirty seconds. Then I cap you. Talk all you like.

Bethany goes to make a move, but Rufus holds her back, shaking his head. He

puts a finger to his lips to quiet her and points back toward the action,

smiling.

Jay fumes.

JAY:

(to Silent Bob)

I can't believe you.

(to Gang Leader)

Do me a favor.

(points to Silent Bob)

Shoot this piece of sh*t first.

(to Silent Bob; disgusted)

No gun!

Suddenly, they both snap into a momentary trance. Zombie-like, Jay and

Silent Bob step to the turntables behind them. Jay puts on headphones and

begins scratching a record. A familiar tune begins.

The Gang watches, perplexed.

Silent Bob whips around, microphone in his hand, and begins to sing.

SILENT BOB:

HEY, HEY, HEY!!! IT'S FAT ALBERT!

AND I'M GONNA SING A SONG FOR YOU!!

AND BILL'S GONNA TELL YOU A THING OR TWO!!

WE'LL HAVE SOME FUN, NOW!

WITH BILL AND ALL THE GANG!

LEARNING FROM EACH OTHER -

WHILE WE DO OUR THANG!

The Gang slowly goes from perplexity to enjoyment. The Gang Leader softens

and smiles, adding a slight nod of approval. Jay provides back-up.

JAY:

NA , NA, NA! GON NA HAVE A GOOD TIME!

SILENT BOB:

(as Fat Albert)

HEY! HEY! HEY!

JAY:

NA. NA. NA! GONNA HAVE A GOOD TIME!

Bethany and Rufus look on. amazed.

RUFUS:

I thought she looked familiar.

BETHANY:

Who?

RUFUS:

(he nods toward the stage)

Serendipity.

Bethany looks to the stage.

The Dancer is the SERENDIPITY in question. She wipes sweat from her brow.

INT. MOOBY CORP. BOARDROOM - DAY

Oh, this isn't your standard boardroom; this is Mooby Corp., home of Mooby,

the Golden Calf - which can only be described as a bovine variation on

Barney:
sickeningly simple and very non-threatening. A large table sits in

the middle, a media center behind the huge chair at the head. The walls are

adorned with framed posters of Mooby, playing with kids, mouth agape in a

stupid smile. At the center of the table is a large, gold plated statue of

the insipid creature.

Doors open and the boardroom fills with suits - six men, one woman. They

chatter and take their seats. After a beat, WHITLAND, the CEO, enters,

taking his place at the head of the conference table.

WHITLAND:

Good morning, shoppers.

(slaps a file on table)

Has anyone seen the over-night's?

An anticipatory hush fills the room.

WHITLAND:

We creamed 'em.

A cheer and applause goes up from the group. Whitland smiles.

WHITLAND:

(reading from file)

And last night was a rerun, which says to me that with the six months we

have to ready and promote the 'Very Nlooby Christmas' pay-per-view special,

we can produce history-making numbers. The record is held by that

shock-jock's New Year's thing, but I see no reason why our little cash cow

can't supercede those numbers and...

(stops and sniffs the air)

Do I smell onions?

Bartleby and Loki sit behind the thrall on a black leather couch. Loki is

carving something out of an onion, while Bartleby looks on.

Whitland and the rest of the board stare at them.

WHITLAND:

I didn't realize we had guests. Who are these gentlemen with?

The other suits shrug and look to one another for an answer nobody has.

WHITLAND:

(to Bartleby and Loki)

Excuse me.

Loki continues carving. Bartleby looks at his friend and shakes his head.

Loki lifts his head without looking up.

LOKI:

(very distracted)

Hmm?

WHITLAND:

May I ask what you're doing in my boardroom?

LOKI:

(still preoccupied)

My friend just has a few words for you, and then we'll be on our way.

Heading to Jersey, you see. Now -by the decor, I assume I'm guessing

correctly that this is the corporate headquarters for Mooby Productions

International?

WHITLAND:

You guess correctly. Now, may I ask who the f*** you are and - again - what

the f*** you're doing in our conference room?

LOKI:

(to Bartleby, still not looking up)

You may proceed, mon ami'.

BARTLEBY:

I can't believe you.

(to Whitland)

I just want to start off by apologizing. My friend here has a penchant

toward the dramatic, so he's making me do this. Usually, I don't even

involve myself in his affairs, but he hasn't done this in awhile, so he

wants...

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