SCRIPT: Game Day

In a very exciting series of events, both the USD women’s and men’s basketball teams are playing their archenemies, SDSU. According to Andrew, this is the most important sports rivalry of all time. Due to the fact that she was neither born nor raised in South Dakota, Betsey does not quite understand, but she is here for it anyway because she loves basketball. Andrew, on the other hand, is a lot more into it than she is.

On the morning of this very important double-header, Andrew shows up at Betsey’s apartment with a crazed look in his eyes. He looks at the red USD sweatshirt and grey leggings Betsey has laid out on her bed and shakes his head.

Andrew: Is that what you’re wearing today?

Betsey: Well… yeah… I wanted to get in the spirit like you said. I got this outfit to wear to the games. Don’t you like it?

Andrew: No. It’s too basic. I need you to take this seriously.

Betsey: What do you mean it’s too basic? It’s the exact same outfit everyone else is going to wear!

Andrew: Exactly. I need you to be different. I need you to get out there and really show your spirit. This is serious. We need to win both games today.

Betsey: Oh no. You’re one of those people with weird superstitions about sports games, aren’t you?

Andrew: They’re not weird superstitions. They’re tried and true tactics for winning the game.

Betsey: Of course they are, darling.

Andrew: You should definitely dress up like the Coyote today instead. Definitely.

Betsey: You’re ridiculous.

Andrew: [suddenly gets really serious] You think this is a fucking joke, Betsey? I didn’t come here to play a fucking game! I came here to WIN!

Betsey: Wow, okay, jeez.

Andrew: And wear the bunny shoes so they fear you.

Betsey: What bunny shoes?

Andrew: Those boots you have that are made out of jackrabbit fur. Show those stupid bunnies what we’re gonna do to them today.

Betsey: Uhh… turn them into very fashionable footwear?

Andrew: No. Kill them, skin them, and wear them like the sad little trophies they are.

Betsey: [gives him a weird look] Got it.

Andrew promptly sits down in front of the mirror and starts singing the USD Fight Song to himself as he puts on war paint. Betsey looks down at the container of red paint in his hands and briefly wonders to herself if it is, in fact, the blood of an actual jackrabbit that was killed in a sacrificial ritual the night before.

Betsey: Wow, you get really into this, don’t you?

Andrew: [turns around and glares at Betsey] I FUCKING LIVE TO WATCH THE BUNNIES LOSE!!!

Betsey: Okay, okay. Sorry.

Betsey goes back into her room and starts sifting through her clothes. She looks at her options and sighs.

Betsey: But I don’t want to wear the grey dress today. I want to wear the red one, but my red dress smells like Cleo’s because I wore it on Saturday. It’s so gross.

Andrew: I don’t care what you wear as long as you’re dressed as a coyote and wearing those bunny shoes on your feet. Show them what we’re gonna do to them today.

Betsey: You are taking this way too seriously right now.

Andrew: No such thing.

Betsey: I don’t understand why I can’t just wear the red sweatshirt and grey leggings.

Andrew: [angrily] Just shut up, stop complaining, wear the grey dress with the furry vest and bunny shoes, and just be the fucking coyote like I told you!

Betsey: But–

Andrew: THIS IS MY DAY, GOD DAMMIT! YOU ARE GOING TO DRESS UP LIKE THE FUCKING COYOTE AND WE ARE GOING TO WIN IT ALL!!!

Betsey: Has anyone ever told you that you’re slightly unhinged?

Andrew: I’ve heard it mentioned once or twice, yes.

Andrew takes a deep breath to steady himself and calmly goes back to applying his warpaint.

Andrew: [singing] I’m a little Coyote-Yote-Yote, and I’m gonna eat some bunnies for lunch.

Betsey stares at him for a moment before going back into her room and putting on the outfit Andrew has chosen for her. She comes out and looks down at him nervously.

Betsey: Okay, how’s this?

Andrew: [smiles cheerily] Perfect! Thank you for taking this seriously even though you’re not from here and therefore don’t really understand the depth of this rivalry.

Betsey: Um… you’re welcome?

Andrew beams at her and finishes up. He packs away his “paint” carefully and stands up. He looks at himself in the mirror and starts doing a strange, ritualistic dance. Betsey watches him with a raised eyebrow as he begins chanting in another language. He finishes with a prayer to The God of Sports, or something.

Betsey: [muttering under breath] And here I thought the vampire guy was weird.

Andrew: What was that?

Betsey: Nothing. I said nothing. Where are we going, anyway?

Andrew: We’re going to Cleo’s. They have a really big screen.

Betsey: Yes, darling, I understand that, but I’m worried my fur is going to smell like Cleo’s now. It’s not easily washed and that… that stench is all over my clothes now!

Andrew: It’s fine. We’ll get you some Febreze. Now stop complaining and let’s go.

Betsey: Okay fine.

Andrew grabs her by the hand and drags out her out into the blizzard to go watch the game.

The End

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