Meanwhile, at Bloody Mary’s Bar…
Andrew is drawing names out of a hat to win a cooler. The cooler is part of a promotion for PBR, The Official Sponsor of Bloody Mary’s Bar. He shakes up the hat containing the slips with the names on them and pulls one out. He looks down at the slip and furrows his brow.
Andrew: Betsey Horton?
He scoffs and throws it in the trash. He picks out another name. It’s the same. He tries this again and again, but all of the slips say BETSEY HORTON, WRITER EXTRAORDINAIRE.
Andrew: Wtf?! What’s going on here? Why do I keep drawing her name?
Cut to shot of Betsey relaxing by a pool on an island somewhere far, far away. She is drinking a glass of Island Juice and watching a hot Beefcake clean the pool in a speedo. She looks at the camera, pulls down her sunglasses, and winks at the audience.
Betsey: I drank a lot of PBR when he wasn’t there and filled out all the slips.
The scene cuts back to Andrew, standing all alone in the bar, surrounded by a huge pile of slips with Betsey Horton’s name on them. He tightens his lip angrily and folds his arms.
Andrew: What did I do to deserve this?
He sighs heavily and reaches for the last slip. His eyes widen when he sees the name written down. He grabs his phone off the counter and calls up Duke immediately.
Andrew: I’ve got the name, bro. I’ve got it.
Duke: What it is?
Duke: THAT’S her name? [long pause] Huh. Well… actually… now that you think about it, it is a pretty good name. It’s obvious Tom was the one who came up with that one. OBVIOUS.
Andrew: So what are you going to do?
Duke: Ehh, I think I’m just going to let that one go. I mean, I really didn’t like her at first, but now I see her differently. I don’t really think she’s a threat. I think she just really likes writing about us. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I think we should just cooperate with her. After all, it’s the only way we’re guaranteed to be represented the way we really are. The more we ignore her and treat her like crap, the more inclined she’ll be to write unflattering things about us. You know what I’m saying?
Andrew: Yeah, I guess you’re right.
Duke: I mean, look at Mad Dog. She never says anything bad about him, even though he’s a total jerk to her sometimes. She doesn’t get on here and vent about it. She just lets it go instead. Why? Because she lets him be who he is. Not to mention the fact that she’s really changed her tune on the way she writes about my brother. He says he actually likes her stories now.
Andrew: I like her stories too. I just… have a lot of feelings for her… I mean, them. Her stories. I have feelings about her stories.
Duke: It’s okay, buddy. I have a lot of feelings about them too. It’s like, I don’t even know how to respond to this stuff. It’s nothing like what I thought. At all. I feel bad about it all the time. I just think… it’s okay to have those feelings. We don’t have to be stoic and manly all the time. We can cry too.
Andrew promptly bursts into tears. He starts sobbing into the phone miserably.
Andrew: It’s like… some days I wake up, and I just really miss my [muffled sobbing].
Duke: What? You miss your pet frog?
Andrew: I said I miss my pet dog! Gosh! Why doesn’t anybody around here ever listen to me?!
Duke: Uhhh… no offense, bro, but I don’t really have time for this. I’ve got kids to watch. I’ve gotta go.
Andrew: Wait! Don’t hang up!
Duke: Sorry! Gotta go! Bye! [click]
Andrew stares down at the disconnected screen on his phone, looks out the window, and sighs heavily.
Andrew: Well, I guess she wins the cooler.
Andrew takes a moment to straighten himself up before he takes out his phone again. He calls up his favourite little Rat-Rat.
Rat-Rat: Whatcha need, Boss? I’ll do anything for ya, Boss! Do you want me to suck your dick for ya today?
Andrew: That won’t be necessary, but thank you. Listen, I have a job for you. Just come to the bar as soon as possible.
Before Andrew can even hang up his phone, Rat-Rat appears at the door.
Rat-Rat: I came as fast as I could!
Andrew: That’s a new record! You sure are working hard around here. I should find a better way to reward you for that.
Rat-Rat: [eyes turn into little hearts] I love you, Andrew. I’ll do anything you ask me to. What do you want me to do today?
Andrew: I need you to take this cooler across the street and deliver it to Betsey Horton’s house. Make sure she’s actually there in person. And tell her… tell her she can come back to the bar.
Rat-Rat: [gasps in horror] You’re inviting her back to the bar? But why? She’s crazy! She’s trying to destroy you and ruin your life! I thought you were done with her forever!
Andrew: Ehhh… I don’t really think it’s like that. I think she just likes writing about us. And she obviously doesn’t write about everybody. There must be something about us that makes us… special. I like being special. I don’t think she’s doing any real harm. I think we’ve all just been… overreacting.
Rat-Rat: But sir!
Andrew: [suddenly exploding into an angry rage] Don’t question my orders again or you’ll be out of a job!
Rat-Rat: [cowers in the corner] Yes, Boss. Whatever you say!
Rat-Rat takes the cooler off the counter and takes it over to Betsey’s house. When he gets there, he knocks on the door, but nobody answers. He decides to stake out the place and hangs around on the corner across the street for awhile. When Betsey returns from the pool, he knocks on her door again. Betsey answers and looks at him skeptically.
Betsey: What do you want?
Rat-Rat: Uhh… I came to deliver a message.
Betsey: What is it?
Rat-Rat: The Boss says you can come back. He says he judged you unfairly and he’s sorry for overreacting. He sent over this special edition PBR cooler as an apology present. He says you won it fair and square.
Betsey: What am I gonna do with a cooler?
Rat-Rat: Uhh… put a bunch of beer in it and take it to the beach?
Betsey: Well, obviously. I just don’t have any friends to take with me. It’s pointless.
Rat-Rat: Maybe owning this cooler will be incentive for you to make friends.
Betsey: Yeah, that’s not how it works. Trust me. I just don’t see the point in owning it. Take it back. Tell him to give it to someone who really needs it.
Rat-Rat: Yeah, I’m not gonna do that. I’m just going to leave it here. I’m sure you’ll find a practical use for it.
Betsey: Well, all right. It will make a lovely addition to my Bloody Mary’s Bar trophy cabinet. Please thank our dear Emperor for his thoughtful present.
Rat-Rat: And the offer to return to the bar?
Betsey: We’ll see how I feel. Right now I’m actually quite happy not to have all of you in my life. It makes writing about all of you so much easier when I don’t have to deal with your crap in real life! None of you appreciate who I am or what I do. I’m better off distancing myself from that negative, toxic energy completely. I deserve to be treated with respect. I just don’t see any of you giving me that. I mean, Andrew goes on and on all the time about me giving him respect, but he has none for me. Why would I give him respect if he’s not going to give it to me? I wrote a 600 page novel about him by accident. He should be grateful. I don’t do that for very many people. But no. Instead he yells at me in front of everybody and kicks me out of the bar. He’s a total jerk. If he wants me to come back, he’s going to have to offer me a lot more than some stupid, cheap, souvenir cooler.
Rat-Rat: [stares at Betsey in shock] Uhh… okay. I’ll tell him. Well, have a nice day.
Betsey: You too. Thanks for not being a condescending dickhead for once. You’re actually pretty cool when you’re not acting like you’re better than everybody else. Welcome to Bloody Mary’s Bar, right?
Rat-Rat: I choose to ignore that statement completely.
Betsey: Whatever. Bye Felicia!
Betsey takes the cooler and slams the door in his face. She promptly turns the cooler into a combination ottoman/coffee table/storage unit. Rat-Rat returns to the bar, where Andrew is waiting patiently. He looks up at Rat-Rat hopefully.
Andrew: Well, what did she say?
Rat-Rat: She said she would think about it.
Andrew: What do you mean she’ll think about it?
Rat-Rat: She says she’s a lot happier without all of us in her life. She says we don’t respect her for who she is and what she does. She said she didn’t want your stupid cooler but she took it anyway. She says you’re going to have to offer her a lot more than that to get her back to the bar.
Andrew: [strokes his beard thoughtfully] What does she want? Money?
Rat-Rat: She said she wants a gift money can’t buy: Respect.
Andrew stands there on one leg thinking it over for a moment. He turns and looks at Rat-Rat seriously.
Andrew: Go away now please. I wish to be alone.
Rat-Rat nods and heads for the door. He leaves Andrew standing by the window, staring at the distant building across the way.