SCRIPT: Mad Dogz Titty Tourz

EXT. Bourbon Street, New Orleans — Afternoon

Two frat boys are standing on the corner drinking hurricanes.

FRAT BOY 1: Bro, this is totally lame. We’ve hit every bar on this street and it’s only four o’clock. I wish we knew where we could find a strip club.

FRAT BOY 2: I checked online but the only places I can find are in shady parts of town. If only we had a guide. A local who could take us there without getting us into any trouble.

Luckily, right at that moment, an old man approaches them on the street. He is bald and wearing a tropical-themed shirt and Raybans. He is carrying a plastic to-go cup and smoking a cigarette. He smiles at them with a yellowed, toothy grin. He is Mad Dog.

MAD DOG: You guys wanna see some titties?


MAD DOG: Well, why didn’t ya say so? I know where to find all the best tittie bars in town. I can show you around… for a small fee, that is.

FRAT BOYS: How much?

MAD DOG: A hundred dollars.

FRAT BOY 1: A hundred dollars?! That seems kind of steep.

MAD DOG: These streets are dangerous!

FRAT BOY 2: Yeah, how do we know you’re not conning us out of our money here?

MAD DOG: Tell ya what. I’ll take you around and show you all the bars, and we’ll settle on a fee at the end. Now that’s fair, am I right?

FRAT BOY 1: Yeah, I guess you’re right.

FRAT BOY 2: Well take it.

MAD DOG: Alright, now just follow me.

The Frat Boys follow Mad Dog around the corner to where his vehicle is parked. There they discover a beat-up, old, orange bike with a cart chained to the back of it. On the side of the cart is a sloppily-painted sign reading “Mad Dogz Tittie Tourz.” Sitting inside of the cart are two medium-sized dogs.

MAD DOG: Now this here is Mama and Daisy. Say hello, girls.

The dogs bark at The Frat Boys excitedly and wag their tales.

FRAT BOY 1: Uh, are these animals dangerous?

MAD DOG: Not at all! They’re the friendliest gals you’ll ever meet. Now come on! Hop in! We’ve got quite the ride ahead of us.

FRAT BOY 2: I believe it.

In spite of their better judgment, The Frat Boys decide to hop on Mad Dog’s ride. First, he takes them back down Bourbon Street.

MAD DOG: Here we have the tourist district. There’s a couple strip clubs along here and there, but they’re mostly pretty tacky. You’ve probably already seen these and are looking for something more, which is why you’re taking my tour.

He bikes up and down the back streets until they start down St. Charles Avenue.

MAD DOG: Here we have the descendants of the Glorious Old Money South. The men in this neighborhood can usually be found out st expensive dinners in exotic locations with their favourite high-end escort. Women who work in this income bracket have a lot to offer an old-fashioned gentleman of wealth and power. They wear the best styles, speak multiple languages, and hold a degree from an accredited institution of higher education. The men are usually married but like to keep a younger woman in the side to make themselves feel young and free again. We call these men Sugar Daddies, and their ladies Sugar Babies. Naturally, some men do prefer a younger “boy toy.” It is also a common practice for rich women to keep younger male escorts, or “fancy men” in the same patronage-style as men.

Mad Dog suddenly turns his bike down a random side-street. As he bikes along, the houses on the block turn from beautiful mansions to uninhabited, broken-down homes. Entire blocks are flattened and destroyed. There is an eerie silence about the place. They turn down the corner and see a skinny homeless woman with a sunken-in face. Her hands are shaking and her voice is strung out. A man holding a gun is chasing after her, threatening to kill her.

MAD DOG: Back in these neighborhoods, some women don’t have a choice. There was nothing before the Hurricane, and even less after that. She, like many before her, turned to drugs like crack and meth with no other options before her. She ended up with this creep who abused her and sold her on the street. He took all of her money, beat her, and raped her. Now that she’s trying to escape, he is going to kill her.

They turn away just as they hear a gunshot and a woman’s scream in the distance. They continue on into another random neighborhood and pass by some ordinary-looking buildings. A massage parlor, a nail salon, an indescript boutique, and Asian-fusion restaraunt.

MAD DOG: Here we have more of an Eastern flavor for your liking. These girls are imported all the way from Thailand. They don’t have any documentation, of course. They’re locked up in the basement and sold as slaves. They keep the operation a secret by laundering money through various legitimate business operations. I heard they even have little kids available here too.

The Frat Boys look at each other solemnly. This wasn’t the experience they signed up for, but they learned a valuable lesson just the same. They return to The French Quarter a little less eager to objectify women. When the tour is over, they each give Mad Dog a $100 bill.

FRAT BOY 1: Thanks for the Tittie Tour, Mad Dog. I sure did learn a lot.

FRAT BOY 2: Yeah. In the future I think I’ll be a little less judgmental of sex workers and more respectful of women as a whole.

MAD DOG: Well, thanks boys! I sure am glad you enjoyed yourselves! Now get on outta here and go get yourself some Shrimp Creole!

The Frat Boys bid Mad Dog farewell and disappear again. Mad Dog gets back on his bike and returns home. “Home” is a historic house with a lot of old-world charm and character. There he finds Andrew sprawled out on the balcony in sunglasses with no shirt on. Sam, the golden retriever puppy, is lying in the exact same position on the ground next to him.

MAD DOG: Well look who’s here!

ANDREW: [mumbling irritably] What? I’m retired.

Mad Dog rolls his eyes and walks inside the house. There he finds a petite blonde lady in high heels, a dress, and a pink apron. She is Stella. She holds up a plate with little turkey sandwiches cut into triangles. Mad Dog takes one off the plate and smiles gratefully at her.

STELLA: Hello Grandpa. Did you make any money out on your tours today?

MAD DOG: I made about a thousand dollars.

STELLA: Wow! You’re doing pretty well then. Who knew you’d fit into the hustle and bustle of New Orleans so well?

MAD DOG: These rich kids. They don’t know nothing about the world. All I gotta do is show them the truth and they learn right quick enough.

STELLA: Well, I’m very glad to hear it.

Stella takes the plate outside to where Andrew is relaxing.

STELLA: Hey, are you hungry? I made you some sandwiches.

Andrew sits up and takes off his sunglasses. He takes a sandwich off the plate and stuffs it into his mouth greedily. Thankfully, he waits until he has finished chewing to speak.

ANDREW: Just famished, thank you. Who knew retirement was so exhausting?

STELLA: Oh, did you have another long, hard day of existential crises?

ANDREW: All I wanted was a life with no worries or responsibilities. I didn’t realize I’d end up reflecting on all of my choices this much. I’m just like sitting here asking myself all the time, “Is this really it? Is this really all there is to life?” If so, why am I so unhappy? I have everything in the world that anyone could ever ask for. Why do I feel like there’s still so much more?

STELLA: Poor darling. What can I do to help your predicament?

ANDREW: Just be my escape, darling. I don’t know what I would ever do if you weren’t here to make me feel young again.

STELLA: Aww, thanks. That’s sweet, but I know you’re only saying that so I’ll make you another sandwich.


STELLA: Okay, I’ll go make you another sandwich.

Stella goes back into the kitchen to make Andrew another sandwich.

The End

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