SCRIPT: The Strip Club in Omaha

Betsey: I’ve decided I don’t want to get married. When this whole thing started, I really did think that was what I wanted. But now, I’ve realized I don’t want to be tied to one person at all. I mean… Jesus. Have you seen the way men are? Why on Earth would I want to be tied to one of them forever when they can’t even keep my attention for longer than an hour? I just want to be The Whoremonger and be forever surrounded by a fabulous harem of handsome men.

Andrew: As The Former Whoremonger, I just have to warn you that it’s a big responsibility. If you’re gonna use that name, you’re gonna have to live up to it.

Betsey: Yeah! It sounds like it’s a big responsibility. I’m probably going to have to buy my own island to handle it all.

Andrew: Call me when you buy that island. I want to be on that reality TV show with all your other gentlemen callers.

Betsey: That would be the best reality TV show ever. Seriously.

Andrew: I’d watch it.

Betsey: We’ll have a giant watch party at Bloody Mary’s.

Andrew: Sounds like a plan.

Betsey: Okay, so back to the Whoremongering. Give me some tips. I had a dream last night where someone couldn’t believe that I’d be interested in a guy like you. She told me you slept with a set of sisters while you had ELEVEN other girls on the side. Is that true? If so, I’m not even mad right now. I’m genuinely impressed by your technique. Tell me your secret. How do you have the time for them all?

Andrew: It takes a lot of careful planning. I like to keep them on a bi-weekly, rotating schedule. You’re gonna need a planner, that’s for sure.

Betsey: You know, it just so happens that I got the cutest little leopard print planner for 2016/2017.

Andrew: Good. You’re off to an excellent start.

Betsey: So how did you get the sisters?

Andrew: With my dashing good looks and impeccable charm, of course.

Betsey: Did you ever get a set of twins?

Andrew: Oh yes. I’ve had women throwing themselves at my feet for years. I’ve been through just about every lady in the book.

Betsey: Same, tho. I really honestly feel like I’ve been through every guy in the book at this point too. It’s like they all look the same.

Andrew: I know what you mean.

Betsey: I got a set of twins once. I met the first one at Bloody Mary’s my first year here, and met the second one on Tinder. He sent me a nude picture of himself! It was hot! I still show it to all of my friends. It’s a big hit at parties.

Andrew: Nice.

Betsey: What can I say? I’m just that good. You know, I picked up a male stripper once too.

Andrew: Who hasn’t?

Betsey: Truth.

Andrew: And you’re not sleeping with any of these guys?

Betsey: Why would I sleep with them?

Andrew: Because that’s the point of The Game.

Betsey: Wrong! That’s the point for men. Men are always chasing sex. If I have sex with them, they win. They get to be The Whoremonger and I get to be The Whore. It’s a complete double standard. Where is the fun in that?

Andrew: I think it’s fun.

Betsey: Yeah, because you get a never-ending supply of pussy. Technically speaking, you’re the only one here who’s a whore. You’re just sleeping with girls left and right, aren’t you?

Andrew: Maybe.

Betsey: Whatever. I’m not sleeping with anybody any time soon. I’d much rather lead them on all night, have a hot, steamy makeout session, and never text them back ever again. That’s my Game. It’s fun. I win every time.

Andrew: That’s too bad. I think you could use a good, hard fuck.

Betsey: That is definitely true, but it’s not gonna come from you. You’re my favourite person to say No to.

Andrew: Why?

Betsey: Because you’re The Whoremonger. If I fucked you, you’d win.

Andrew: I dunno about that. I think both of us would win.

Betsey: Alas. It will never be. Let us simply exist as Equals and as Friends. Like Real Friends™, not like all these people who say they’re your friends but are really just your followers in disguise. We’ve both got way too many of those people in our lives.

Andrew: Sounds good to me.

Betsey: I’m glad that’s decided. What do you say we go pick up Mad Dog and head on down to the strip club?

Andrew: Let’s go!

Betsey: This is the best Fan Fiction ever!

They hop into a baby blue classic convertible and drive over to Mad Dog’s house.

Andrew: Hey Mad Dog! We’re going to the strip club! Get in!

Mad Dog: It’s about time you showed up. I’ve been waiting here for years!

Betsey: Hi!

Mad Dog: Are you the stripper?

Betsey: No, that’s Liz. I’m just here to write it all down.

Mad Dog: That’s disappointing.

Betsey: We’ll see.

Mad Dog gets in the car and they take off for Omaha.

Betsey: Okay, I know exactly where we’re going.

Andrew: Oh, so now you’re the one in charge?

Betsey: Uh, yeah. I’m the Writer. You’re just a Character. Anyway, I found this place on reddit that was described as “The Mos Eisley of Strip Clubs.” We have to go!

Andrew: Oh, I know which one you’re talking about. It’s not that great. I know better places. Cleaner, classier, much more upscale.

Me: Listen here, Pretty Boy. This is MY story. If you’re gonna be a Character, you’re gonna do what I tell you to do. If I say we’re going to The Mos Eisley of Strip Clubs, then we’re going to The Mos Eisley of Strip Clubs. I need to get something out of this. A major part of my Star Wars screenplay is set in a strip club/brothel in Mos Eisley. I need to check this place in Omaha out.

Andrew: Well, all right.

Mad Dog: Quit yer bitchin’! You’re getting lippy again. We’re The Men here. WE do the talking. It’s your job to be quiet and look pretty.

Betsey: Shut the fuck up, Grandpa. I don’t answer to anyone but Me. If I want to be a loudmouthed, overly-opinionated, Not Nice™, crazy fucking bitch, then that’s what I’m gonna be.

Andrew: Are you guys going to do this for the rest of the ride?

Betsey: I sure hope not.

Mad Dog: Whatever! I’m in my own world!

Betsey: Same, tho.

Andrew: Cool. [puts on his shades and turns up the music]

Two hours later, the Trio arrives in Omaha. They walk into the strip club only to discover that it really is the Mos Eisley of Strip Clubs. Andrew and Mad Dog are annoyed. Betsey looks around in awe.

Betsey: This is amazing!

Andrew: Really?

Me: Just look around! It’s totally inspiring!

Andrew and Mad Dog look at Betsey judgmentally.

Andrew: You’ve never been to a strip club before, have you?

Betsey: Of course not! Why would I go to a strip club?

Mad Dog: What the hell are we doing here? Andrew is rich! We should be some place classy!

Andrew: Oh, so we’re only here to spend my money, huh?

Betsey: I mean… both of us are unemployed… and, you’ve Got It All™… and, this is My Story, so… yeah… let’s go spend your fucking money. Why not?

Andrew: What am I getting out of this?

Betsey: You’ll see.

Andrew: Well, if we’re spending my money, we’re not spending it here. We’re going some place more upscale.

Betsey: Fair enough.

The Trio hops back in the car and heads somewhere a little bit nicer. You know, the kind of joint where they serve dinner, or whatever it is that makes some strip clubs classier than others. The Trio sits down at the bar and orders a round of drinks.

Mad Dog: Hey Andrew, can you lend me?

Andrew hands Mad Dog a roll of cash.

Andrew: Don’t spend it all in one place.

Mad Dog: [scoffs] Amateur.

He wanders off and picks up two dancers immediately. They disappear into a VIP room together.

Betsey: What about me? Where’s my money?

Andrew: What are you going to do with it?

Betsey: Whatever I want.

Andrew: And what’s that?

Betsey: Give it to me and you’ll see.

Andrew: All right.

Andrew takes out another roll of cash and hands it to Betsey. She tosses him a couple packets of Splenda in return. He doesn’t get it now, but he will soon enough. She examines every stripper in the room carefully and picks out the best dancer.

Betsey: I’ll give you this entire roll of cash if you teach me all of your moves tonight.

Stripper: All right.

Andrew: Have fun, Liz.

Betsey: Thanks! I will! This is going to be a very educational experience. I’ve always wanted to learn how to dance!

Betsey and The Stripper disappear into a VIP room together, not to be seen or heard from again until closing time.

Andrew: [looks around the strip club and takes a drink] Ahhh… the smell of Success.

Andrew takes out another roll of cash and promptly spends it all in one place. Sometime around bar close, Mad Dog reappears with a stripper on each arm. Betsey returns as Liz. Her hair is blonde, her dress is red, and she has a sneaky smile on her face. Andrew also had a good time, but feels no need to go into further detail about it.

Mad Dog: This is Cherry and Berry. They’re coming home with me tonight. Say hello, ladies.

Cherry and Berry: Hiiii!

Liz: Hellooooo ladies!

Andrew: [shaking his head in disbelief] How do you do it?

Mad Dog: [scoffs] Amateur. And you call yourself The Whoremonger!

Liz: Actually, he’s not The Whoremonger. He’s passed that title onto me.

Mad Dog: You can’t be The Whoremonger. You’re a Lady!

Liz: Unbelievable! Look at this ridiculously sexist double standard! This is the problem with our society today! Women are just as capable of being Whoremongers as men!

Andrew: Can we please not do this right now? I’m Frat House Wasted™.

Liz, Andrew, Mad Dog, and The Strippers stumble across the street drunkenly to the nearest hotel.

Liz: Yeah, we’re definitely gonna need three rooms.

Andrew: How much money do you think I have?

Liz: I don’t know. I don’t care. My mind isn’t compatible with numbers. I just know you have more money than me. It’s My Story, anyway. For all intensive purposes, your funds are basically unlimited here.

Andrew: Okay.

Front Desk Lady: So, about those three rooms. Sorry, but we only have two left! One with a King-sized bed and one with two Queens. Someone is going to have to share.

Liz: I am not sharing a room with Mad Dog and two strippers. I refuse.

Mad Dog: So it’s decided. I’ll take the King.

Andrew: Wait a minute! It’s my money! I should get the King!

Mad Dog: Yeah, but I’ve got a stripper on each arm. If anyone needs a King-sized bed tonight, it’s me.

Andrew: Fair enough.

Mad Dog shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

Mad Dog: [scoffs] Amateur.

Mad Dog snatches the room key out of the Front Desk Lady’s hand and disappears into the elevator with Cherry and Berry. Andrew and Liz look at each other awkwardly. Andrew takes the room key. Neither of them say anything in the elevator or the entire walk to the room. Andrew opens the door and holds it open for Liz, true to his gentlemanly form.

Liz: Well, at least there’s two beds, amiright?

Andrew: Yeah.

Liz: I’ll take the one by the air conditioner. I like the room super cold at night so I can snuggle up in the comforter. It’s my thing.

Andrew: Okay.

They both sit down on their respective beds.

Andrew: So… what should we do now?

Liz: Are you kidding me? We’re gonna watch HGTV, obviously! What the hell else are we gonna do?

Andrew: I mean… since we’re here and all…

Liz: Hmm… let me think about it for a second. No.

Andrew: No? But I just spent all this money on you! You owe me some sugar!

Liz: What are you talking about? I already gave you some sugar! What did you think the Splenda was for? Coffee? We make trade. You give me money. I give you sugar.

Andrew sits there with his mouth wide open.

Liz: Anyway, it’s My Story. You’re not The Boss here. When I say no, I mean no.

Liz picks up the remote and turns the channel to HGTV.

Me: Ooooh! Island Hunters! This is one of my favourite shows!

Liz gets comfortable in the middle of her bed and settles in to enjoy her hobby for the rest of the night. Andrew continues to sit there in shock.

Andrew: But I don’t understand. I thought this was what you wanted!

Liz: This is what I wanted! We got a hotel room and now we’re watching HGTV. Why are you complaining?

Andrew: Well… it’s just that… when you said you wanted to watch HGTV, I thought you meant you wanted to watch HGTV.

Liz: We are watching HGTV.

Andrew: No, not, like, watch HGTV. I meant… “watch” HGTV.

Liz: What?

Andrew: Huh?

Liz: What?

Andrew: I thought you were making a metaphor for sex!

Liz: Why would you think that?

Andrew: Because that’s what “watching” HGTV means.

Liz: Well, I’m not a guy… sooo… my definition is a little bit different than yours.

Andrew: Seriously?

Liz: Seriously. I mean, why would I have sex with you? You’re My Equal and My Friend! And you’re married. That’s just plain wrong. Besides, I don’t have sex with anybody. That’s My Game. I told you that up front.

Andrew stares at Liz in disbelief.

Liz: What?

Andrew: I don’t understand. If you aren’t going to have sex with me, why would you want to get a hotel room and watch HGTV?

Liz: Uhhh… because HGTV is a shared interest we have and I legitimately think it’d be fun to watch it with you.

Andrew: Really?

Liz: Yeah. Just look at these people!

Andrew turns his head to look at the TV.

Island Hunter #1: This island doesn’t have enough sand. There’s too much artificially cultivated greenspace. I want a more natural shoreline.

Island Hunter #2: Yeah, I totally know what you mean. If I’m gonna drop $5 million on an island, I expect there to be lots of sand for me to sink my feet into. Do you have anything else?

Real Estate Agent: Seriously? We’ve looked at five islands already! None of them are good enough! Can you even believe these people? [takes a deep breath to center himself] I love my job, I love my job, I love my job…

Liz looks at Andrew and smiles.

Liz: See?

Andrew: Okay, you’re right, it is pretty funny. But still…

Liz: What?

Andrew: It’s just…

Liz: What?

Andrew: This totally didn’t end the way I expected.

Liz: That’s why they call me The Whoremonger!

The End.

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