The Curiosity of Chance Page #3

is take a picture

every hour of the same thing and-

Okay. We'll go.

And for future reference,

we don't care that much about

your photo projects.

So fascinating!

Can I just ask:

what's proper protocol should this

vehicle spontaneously combust?

Look Prince Weird-Clothes,

if his highness would rather walk,

I can pull over right now.

Zip it...

Finally.

Can we do something interesting now?

I thought we were.

Do we look interested?

It's sort of hard to tell,

cuz the two of you never look

interested in anything.

I have an idea...

I'm just not sure if two of you

are man enough...

Are you?

Agreed. Stupid question.

Of course you are, Sir.

C'mon girls.

This looks like a nice

upscale neighborhood.

Look out for the curve...

Relax... I'm parking.

Those things will kill you.

They're much like dark alleys that way.

Club Red and Blue.

Twenty-one and over.

So we're going in the side entrance.

With what?

A battering ram and fake police badges?

C'mon, just follow me.

What kind of club is this?

You'll see.

Hey Sasha.

Hi Twyla, how are you?

I'm sixteen,

in high school

and I got two losers in-tow.

Life just continues

to suck big ostrich eggs.

Yeah, yeah, yeah...

You lost, sweetie?

Help me with the dress, will you.

So schoolboy,

how do they call you?

Chance Marquis.

Claire Vuoyant.

What a fabulous name.

Give my regards

to the angel who named you.

That would be my dear-departed mother.

May she rest in peace.

Claire Vuoyant,

I like it.

I can see queerly now!

So, how old are you?

Uh...twenty-two.

Yeah, right. Six years from now, baby.

Hum ! You don't bullshit a drag,

especially when she's known for her

precognitive powers.

It only leads to a heartache

and a sore rear.

I think we're scaring

Oliver Twist over here, ladies!

I'm not scared.

Good, because with a little glitter

and a fabulous dress

get your britches in a twist,

you'll positively faint

when Lily Pad over there,

takes her thong off.

You were great out there tonight.

Thank you, Rex Reed.

Oh, don't mention the hair?

The dress?

The dress was a star tonight!

The whole package was astounding.

Well, if done correctly,

the package was invisible.

Where's Chance?

He was right behind me.

Go find him!

What're you going to do?

Wait. Have a cigarette.

Ponder why dweebs are drawn to me.

Well, you don't learn it, per se.

It's more like...

it just pops out one day.

Then you refine.

Find the right dress, the right song,

right name, and then you practice

till your feet bleed.

B*tch,

your feet wouldn't bleed if you'd admit

to their actual big-ass largeness

and stop wearing size-sixes.

Lily, until you stop menstruating,

talk to the hand!

You're all so sassy and sarcastic,

but no one retaliates

in a truly harmful way.

I saw that b*tch!

Don't make me replace your

crack with baking soda!

Chance?

Here,

you should try it some time.

I think you'd be a natural.

Just remember, Chance,

this is an illusion.

You have to make everyone believe.

Starting with yourself.

No-no, if you wait to jump

a half-second longer,

the frog can make it across

in a straight shot, but--

Hey, Tinkerbell!

So how's the story going, man?

You want a quote?

Yup.

Someday soon,

when you least expect it,

I am gonna totally kick

your fairy-ass.

Brad, can we go?

Just screwin' with him baby,

just screwin' with him.

Hmmm.... peanuts,

don't mind if I do.

You familiar with the concept of REVENGE?

Yeah, ever since Judy Hatteberg

appropriated my chalk in kindergarten.

She paid.

You're a shark, and Brad's the remora,

suctioned to you tighter than spandex

on David Lee Roth.

So, there's only one thing to do:

grab it by its tail,

rip it from your flesh

and then SMASH IT!

High school is like Darwinism in a test tube:

survival of the fittest.

Only here, because Brad outweighs

you by fifty pounds,

fit equals smart.

Hey Chance,

you still need someone to interview

for your story?

Why?

Did you take pity on me and convince your

best friend and favorite drummer,

Brad Harden, to sit for an interview?

Brad hates you.

Besides, the only thing

that convinces Brad of anything

is Brad.

Or Toni.

But even then, it's only when

she's denying him sex.

Anyway, I was thinkin' you

could interview me.

Well, I hate to point out the fact that

you might be as dense as a redwood, Levi,

but I need to interview someone who

actually plays on the team.

Ergo, not you.

I appreciate the insult.

What insult?

I'm a first-string forward.

I haven't been practicing

because of a knee injury,

but it should be okay by

the season opener.

Wait, wait... What?

You're getting around

to telling me this, now?

I thought you'd appreciate the,

you know...

dramatic pause.

Why?

Aren't your people all into

drama and stuff?

You're so correct, right up there with

gingham and party-planning.

My 'people' are also into

the fashionably ironic,

but I'll make an exception in your case.

Hey! I can be ironic!

Dang, is this inside out?

What's your favorite kind of music?

I like lots of music.

Correction. I love music.

When is your band playing next?

'Seventh Annual

Battle-of-the-High-School-Bands'

The winner gets one-free-week studio time,

and a guaranteed listen of their music by

some big London music producer.

Pretty sweet, huh?

I think we have a real shot.

Who, 'we'?

The Split-Infinitives!

We're gonna rock the sh*t.

Can I be honest with you, Chance?

Music is my life.

It's everything.

I can feel it, in my soul.

You know?

Well, can I be honest with you?

From what I heard, your band is...

how do I best put this:

God-awful.

Fetid. Pedicular.

And by pedicular, I mean lousy.

I don't expect you to get it.

People who feel the music,

who can't live without it,

they get it.

Besides, we'll get better.

Levi?

Oh, didn't know you had company.

This is Chance.

He lives next door.

How's the knee, you run today?

Chance is writing an article on the team

for the school paper.

That right?

Lee's the best!

He's gonna have U.S. university recruiters

salivating over him this year,

right, Lee?

Right, Dad.

The rain in Spain

flows mainly in the plain...

Braid my hair?

'Split Infinitives'

- that's a stupid name for a band, I think.

You're a way better singer than he is.

How is it you state things with such

atypical certainty and authority?

And in such a flawless, bogus accent?

It's like you know exactly what everyone

should be doing...

Or what they should be.

Not what, who.

For instance, I am a beauty queen.

Do I push that away? No,

I embrace it.

And mastering this accent is the

final piece in the puzzle...

that is, Miss U.K. Junior

twelve-and-under.

Everyone should embrace who they are.

Including you.

Well, you'll learn as you get older,

you actually know less about who you are.

That's just silly talk.

I know who you are.

And what you should be.

There you go.

Thanks!

Bee-rilliant!

You really came through, Chance.

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