SCRIPT: Officer Andrew

My character Andrew is out of control. I literally can’t even with him right now. I clearly had no idea what I was signing up for when I decided to capture Sam’s essence on the page. I demand a refund!

It happened like this:

BETSEY: [wakes up feeling like she has to go to work today] Ugh, today will not be any fun. I have to actually sit down and work on all the technical shit I have to do. I better get dressed all professional and go to the office.

Just as BETSEY has finished getting ready and packed up to go, she hears a knock at the door. She opens it to discover ANDREW standing there dressed up as a police officer.

BETSEY: Oh my god.

ANDREW: Good afternoon, Miss. My name is Officer Andrew. I’m here to perform a compliance check.

BETSEY: Seriously?

ANDREW: I’m sorry to bother you like this, Miss, but it appears we have a situation on our hands.

BETSEY: A situation, huh?

ANDREW: We’ve had multiple complaints about you recently from a number of different people. [gets out handcuffs] I’m afraid I’m going to have to take you down to the station and question you myself.

BETSEY: What is this, some kind of porno?

ANDREW: It could be… If you wanted it to be.

BETSEY: I mean, I might want it to be. I’d want it to be a lot more if you’d take off that wedding ring.

ANDREW: Wedding ring? What wedding ring? You mean the wedding ring I’ve been taking off and playing with in front of you? The wedding ring I haven’t even been wearing at all recently? That wedding ring?

BETSEY: Yeah, that wedding ring.

ANDREW: You mean you haven’t noticed?

BETSEY: Oh, I’ve noticed. It’s hard not to notice, you know what I mean?

ANDREW: I know exactly what you mean.

BETSEY: Of course you do. You just love to mess with people like this, don’t you? You caught wind of what I was writing about you in my notebook, so you decided to play one of your little jokes on me. Is that it?

ANDREW: I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.

BETSEY: Oh yes, I forgot. You have no idea what’s going on right now, do you? All of this just came out of nowhere. You had nothing to do with it whatsoever. I was just acting crazy again, right?

ANDREW: Right.

BETSEY: And yet here you are on my doorstep, asking me to write about how sexy you are again. Who do you think you are? You know I can’t write about you that way again.

ANDREW: Why not?

BETSEY: Because the last time I started writing about you that way, you came to life on me, freaked me out, pissed me off, and then pretended it never happened at all.

ANDREW: I have to pretend nothing happened. Don’t you know who I am?

BETSEY: Vaguely. I’m just now starting to figure it out. You must forgive me for not immediately recognizing what A Big Deal you are. I am from the East Coast, after all. People like you take time to register. You’re not as flashy about your wealth out here. I only figured it out by the type of car you drive.

ANDREW: My car? What about my car?

BETSEY: It’s so douchey. Like, seriously. I bet it has all the special features and everything. It’s like it’s supposed to be an SUV, but you don’t actually use it for anything related to that purpose. You just drive it because it’s a Status Symbol. You want people to look at you and think, “That guy’s fucking made it.”

The only thing missing is the vanity plate. Why not go the extra mile? Why not make yourself special and get a set of plates that read “THE BOSS”?

Come on, man. You’re such a Wannabe DC Douchebag. You might as well start running for office yesterday.

ANDREW: My car’s not douchey!

BETSEY: It is douchey. You’re like two steps down from the suburban bros who drive Hummers around DC and take up two parking spaces.

ANDREW: What’s a step down?

BETSEY: An H2.

ANDREW: Fair enough. But I’ll have you know, you’re awfully brave talking to me that way.

BETSEY: And you’re awfully brave to be playing practical jokes on a famous writer from Washington, D.C.

ANDREW: You’re only famous in my bar.

BETSEY: That’s what you think. You don’t even know about me and Southern Maryland right now. You don’t know about me and The Frat, you don’t know about me from my childhood on. I stir up shit wherever I go. You’re just the latest and greatest. Don’t be surprised when you hear my name again.

ANDREW: What makes you think you know me so well, anyway? How do you know this is just a joke?

BETSEY: Your mom totally warned me you were coming. It was the weirdest thing ever.

ANDREW: My mom?

BETSEY: That’s right. Your mom. There I was, sitting next to Mad Dog, minding my own business, and suddenly this totally random lady just starts talking to me! We’re just chatting away about everything under the sun, when suddenly she introduces herself as your mom! So awkward, right? You wouldn’t even believe! I was literally just sitting there writing a sexy story about you, and suddenly you just came to life!

I didn’t ask her any questions about you, of course. I didn’t want you to think I was stalking you! She just sat there and kept talking and talking and talking and I was totally loving every minute of it because I’m a writer!

Then, suddenly, before I even knew what was happening, she told me your entire life story. It was awful. It made me like you so much more! I was like, one wedding ring away from demanding to see ALL the pictures. Like, I literally wanted to sit on the couch with her for hours while she showed me every single fucking picture.

The fact that she would tell any random person off the street how amazing you are and how proud of you she is made it even worse.

I didn’t want to know any of it, I swear. I was just looking at you like you were a sex object. I was like, 1000% sure it would never happen IRL. I legitimately thought it was harmless to just “take a look” once in awhile.

I didn’t realize you were like, a real person with a real life and like, real thoughts and feelings, you know? I just thought of you as this totally hot and sexy guy who was out of reach. I mean, knew you were real, I just conveniently ignored it so I could objectify you!

I’m so sorry. I totally wasn’t stalking you. I was totally freaked out!!! Especially because she said you were a ladies man and you liked to mess with people!

She told me this whole story about how you convinced some random person you played basketball for a high school you didn’t go to and they totally believed you! I was like, “Oh my god, that’s what he’s doing to me right now! He’s totally messing with me for his own entertainment!” I was TOTALLY FREAKED OUT!

ANDREW: I’m sorry. I was freaked out too.

BETSEY: Yeah, you were freaked out, Mr. “This just came out of nowhere! I didn’t do anything to feed into this at all! I didn’t take off my wedding ring or come outside without a shirt on! I was just being friendly, because I’m from South Dakota and that’s what people do!”

It must be so nice to be a man and not have to take responsibility for anything you do. Why own up to your bullshit when you can just blame a woman instead? Typical fucking man! Well, I won’t be blamed for your ridiculous behavior!

As far as I’m concerned, I was writing a story about a fictional character. I never had any intention of messing with a real person. You know what I’m saying? Why don’t you just be a man, admit you were messing with me, and apologize for your actions?

ANDREW: I can’t.

BETSEY: Well, then, Officer, I’m afraid you’re going to have to leave.

ANDREW: Leave? But I got the hat and everything!

BETSEY: I don’t care! I don’t have time to just play with you whenever you want! I have a life! I have a job! I have a lot of writing projects I have to finish! The last thing I need is another man to distract me!

I’ve had it with these motherfucking snakes on this motherfucking plane! Get your shit together and apologize to me or fuck right the hell off!

BETSEY slams door in ANDREW’s face and goes back to writing.

THE END

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