SCRIPT: Andrew’s Tiger Story

Betsey is trying to sleep when Andrew appears at the foot of her bed.

Betsey: What is it this time?

Andrew: I want a story about being fed to a tiger.

Betsey: [rolls eyes, sighs heavily, and pulls covers back over head]

Andrew: [immediately ripping covers off] Hey! Listen to me!

Betsey: What do you want?!

Andrew: [stomps foot insistently] I said I wanna be fed to a tiger! Now!

Betsey: I don’t want to write a story about feeding you to a tiger, Andrew. You’re too useful to me.

Andrew: Exactly. I’ll just transform into something specific for the story and regenerate myself again at the end.

Betsey: And what, pray tell, are you wanting to turn into this time?

Andrew: I’m gonna be… a piece of meat.

Andrew immediately transforms himself into a steak and starts talking. Betsey stares at the bizarre cartoon-steak-with-eyes hallucination at the end of her bed in a mix of curiosity and confusion.

Andrew: Look at me.

Betsey: No.

Andrew: Aren’t I so juicy and rare?

Betsey: No.

Andrew: Don’t you just wanna pulverize me?

Betsey: What?

Andrew: Pound me till I’m tender and sore?

Betsey: Huh?

Andrew: Slather me in au jus an lick it all off?

Betsey: Why are you like this?

Andrew: Eat me! Eat me raw!

Betsey: [facepalm] Conversations like this are why I tried so hard to kill you with booze.

Andrew laughs and turns back into his main human form. He pulls out a sexy tiger costume from behind his back.

Andrew: Look, I even brought you a little tiger outfit so you can play along. It’s got the tail and everything.

Betsey: I… truly don’t know what to say right now, Andrew. I’m at a loss for words.

Andrew: Go on, do it. Just rip right into me and tear me apart!

Betsey: What the…?

Andrew: [makes claws with his hands] RAWR!!!!

Betsey: No, seriously, why are you like this?

Andrew: You said you needed your inspiration back. I am here to provide!

Betsey: Great. Thanks. Just what I always wanted in a Muse.

Andrew: Yeah I know, I’m pretty great, aren’t I, huh?

Betsey: I’m going back to bed. I really need to get some sleep.

Andrew: But what about my story?

Betsey: I don’t want to write you a story!

Andrew: If you don’t write me a story, I’ll keep talking to you all night long. You wouldn’t want that now, would you?

Betsey: I really don’t. Here’s your stupid, ridiculous, utterly pointless story. Goodnight.

The End

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