Very Bad Things Page #5

LOIS:

The post-Vegas Man.

LIZ:

A mutant species.

LOIS:

Okay boys, smile!

Lois clicks off photos of the men.

LOIS:

All right. As you were.

The guys break. Fisher goes to Liz.

LIZ:

Will you please call the chair people?

FISHER:

I will.

LIZ:

Do you love me?

FISHER:

Of course.

LIZ:

Just call and let me know that your

okay.

FISHER:

I love you.

LIZ:

Have a nice bachelor party.

Adam kisses Lois and the kids goodbye. Adam Jr. nearly looses

his balance in the excitement, Adam catches him.

Boyd starts to get in the drivers seat.

ADAM:

Not on your life.

Boyd slides over shotgun, cranks the MUSIC. Fisher's the

last one in. He slides the big Minivan door shut and they're

off.

Adam looks in the rearview mirror, Lois, Liz, Timmy wave

goodbye. Adam Jr. waves one of his crutches.

EXT. HWY - SERIES OF SHOTS - DAY

The minivan cruises east: from Santa Monica; through downtown

Los Angeles; and the City of Industry. At the turn off, a

freeway sign reads; "Las Vegas 385 miles."

INT. MINIVAN - LATER

BOYD:

You're a f***ing moron.

MICHAEL:

It's my f***ing opinion.

ADAM:

It's really a stupid opinion. You

have developed an annoying habit of

talking for what seems to be no other

reason than to hear yourself speak.

MICHAEL:

Because my opinion threatens yours,

it's poorly developed?

ADAM:

No, because your opinions are idiotic

and have nothing to do with what any

given conversation is about, which

makes 85% of your eagerly injected

thought process highly offensive to

me.

MICHAEL:

Boyd brought up divorce statistics.

BOYD:

The hell I did!

MICHAEL:

The hell you didn't!

BOYD:

The hell I did!

MICHAEL:

You said one in two marriages end in

divorce.

BOYD:

I never heard that.

FISHER:

You said that Boyd.

BOYD:

Well, I didn't mean it.

MICHAEL:

You're an a**hole Adam.

ADAM:

You're an a**hole.

MICHAEL:

Oh, and why am I an a**hole?

ADAM:

Multiple reasons.

MICHAEL:

Name one.

ADAM:

I don't have to...

FISHER:

SHUT UP!

DEAD SILENCE. As they ride through the lifeless desert, Fisher

dials his cell phone.

FISHER:

(into phone)

Is this Pico Party rents? Can I speak

to whomever is in charge of chairs?

Chairs.

Boyd checks his watch.

BOYD:

Four hours and fifteen minutes. I

can make Vegas in 3 and change.

ADAM:

I'm not getting a ticket.

FISHER:

(on cell phone)

Tony? This is Keith Fisher. You're

doing my wedding and I'm calling

about the chair situation. Yeah,

I'll hold.

BOYD:

Who's up for making some real money?

ADAM:

Don't even start.

BOYD:

You want to hear me out?

MICHAEL:

Nope.

BOYD:

Moore?

MOORE:

No I don't.

BOYD:

Fish?

FISHER:

Not really.

(into phone)

Yes, the Fisher wedding chairs...

BOYD:

Prison Communication Systems.

(no response)

An acquaintance friend of mine is

professionally involved with a

communications outfit in Denver that

I just happen to know for a fact is

about to be rewarded a very large,

exclusive contract to rewire every

state prison in Colorado. Yes sir.

Nobody gives a f***.

FISHER:

(into phone)

No, I'm holding for Tony. In chairs.

Keith Fisher. Okay.

BOYD:

That would translate to government

guaranteed contract in excess of 35

million dollars.

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