Category: Andrew

Stories and scripts about my character Andrew

SCRIPT: Mad Dog’s Associations

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INT: BLOODY MARY’S BAR – DAY

Mad Dog is sitting at the end of the bar having a drink when Sam comes over to wash the dishes.

Mad Dog: So… about that Super Bowl Party…

Sam: Oh sorry, Pup, but you’re not allowed to come anymore.

Mad Dog: Why not?

Sam: Because of your “associations.”

Mad Dog: Associations? What associations?

Sam: You know… your associations.

Mad Dog gives Sam a weird look and thinks it over for a moment. Finally, he has a realization.

Mad Dog: It was Billy the Biker Guy, wasn’t it?

Sam: What?

Mad Dog: I used to roll with the Bandidos, you know. That was back when I went to Barber College in Sioux City.

Sam: Um… no. Your other associations.

Mad Dog: [thinks it over again] Oh, you mean Doug. Doug the Drug Dealer. I used to sell mattresses for him back in the day. He still owes me money.

Sam: No.

Mad Dog: It was that damn Indian, wasn’t it? Joe Three Deer! He’s always getting me into trouble. He’s the reason I’ll never go back to the Rez. It’s been thirty years and he’s still trying to kill me!

Sam: No, no, no. I meant your OTHER associations.

Mad Dog: Ohhhh… now I see. It was that set of blonde twins I married in Vegas.

Sam: What?

Mad Dog: Yeah, they were my cousins.

Sam: Huh?

Mad Dog: It was a fast wedding.

Sam: Uhhh… no.

Mad Dog: Well then, I have no idea who you’re talking about.

Sam: I’m talking about Betsey. Betsey Horton. The Writer Extraordinaire. You’re guilty by association. Therefore, you’re disinvited to the party. I don’t want you passing information to her about what goes on here, which is a really dumb thing to say because literally nothing is going on here at all. I know that because I’m bored. So bored. So, so, so, so, so bored. That’s why I’m using you to start this shit with her again. Because I’m bored.

Mad Dog: Really?

Sam: Yeah, really.

Mad Dog: [staring at him in disbelief] We don’t talk about you like that.

Sam: It doesn’t matter. You’re guilty by association. Also, I am bored. Did I mention the fact that I’m bored? Because I am really bored.

Mad Dog gives Sam the once over and shakes his head. Then he finishes his drink and gets up to leave.

Mad Dog: You know, this bar used to be a really great place. Now it’s just a bunch of fucking yuppies.

Mad Dog leaves the bar and wanders over to Betsey’s house, where he finds her writing about a bunch of people who have nothing to do with South Dakota at all.

Mad Dog: You’re not gonna believe what just happened to me at Bloody Mary’s.

Betsey: Let me guess. Someone was a douchebag to you because you have the nerve to be seen out in public with me.

Mad Dog: Yeah.

Betsey rolls her eyes, yawns, and goes back to her writing.

Betsey: Well, if they don’t want me writing about them like they’re a bunch of petty assholes, then they should really stop acting like a bunch of petty assholes. Maybe try apologizing instead?

Mad Dog: Ehhh… fuck ’em. Let’s go to a dive bar in some random small town nearby. I’ll introduce you to some real people.

Betsey: I’m already there, fam.

They hop in the car and drive over the bridge to Nebraska.

The End

SCRIPT: The Untimely Death of Betsey Horton, Writer Extraordinaire

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Betsey is sitting at the bar with Mad Dog when they get into an argument. Betsey is annoyed so she gets up and decides to move over to the opposite end of the bar where The Line of Death usually sits.

Betsey: Oh, woe is me! I really am an old lady now! I’m on the Line of Death and everything!

Howard Hughes looks at her as if she has just uttered the most offensive, scandalous thing he’s ever heard.

Howard Hughes: Just who the hell does this girl think she is?

Betsey: The Line of Death, The Line of Death. What does it really mean to be on The Line of Death? Let me think about it for a moment. Hmm… you know, if I could pick a way to die, it would be eaten by lions while on safari. Why? Because it would make an awesome story, of course!

Howard Hughes: What did she just say?

Betsey: Just think! Everybody would be talking about it for weeks! Months! Years! Maybe even centuries! Yeah, centuries!

Howard Hughes is rendered completely speechless. Andrew smiles at Betsey and sighs dreamily. She winks at him and he winks back. They both know exactly what the other is thinking. Betsey gets up and leaves for the day. When she isn’t seen or heard from in a couple weeks, everyone starts to get worried.

Duke: Not that I really care or anything, but has anyone seen Betsey lately? I noticed she hasn’t been around. Not that I was looking, of course. I only noticed she was gone because it seemed a lot… quieter… around here than usual.

Andrew stands over the cash register and smirks to himself as he rubs his hands together mischeviously. At long last, the opportunity he has been waiting for has arrived. He turns around and puts a solemn look on his face.

Andrew: Yeah, didn’t you hear? Betsey Horton died!

Duke: What? How?

Andrew: She was eaten by lions!

Duke: Oh come on, Andrew. Don’t put us on.

Andrew: No, it’s true, it’s true. I was there! I saw the whole thing! It was awful! There was blood everywhere!

Duke: That doesn’t make any sense. How was she eaten by lions?

Andrew: She was on safari and she got too close to the lions so they ate her. I mean, they really just ripped her apart. At the end the hyenas came in. Once they were done, the vultures picked her off. Then all the the flies came and laid their eggs. It was super gross. There were maggots crawling all over the place. Then her body decomposed and became the grass. And then the antelope ate the grass and the lions ate the antelope.

Duke: What?

Andrew: Yeah. But like, that’s just nature, you know? The Circle of Life and all that. Yeah, I learned about it when I watched The Lion King with my daughter. It was so deep, you guys. It really affected me a lot and just, like, changed my whole perspective on things. It’s sad that she died, but she always wanted to go on safari, and she did say she would choose to be eaten by lions, so I mean, at least she lived her dream. How many of you can say you died living your dream? No one, because we’re all still sitting here alive. Think about that.

Everyone in the bar stares at Andrew in shock. They believe him. They actually, really, truly, deeply in their hearts believe him. They all sit there in silence looking super sad. Nobody knows what to say. Suddenly, Howard Hughes steps up to the plate. He buys everyone in the bar a shot of LaRue.

Howard Hughes: I say we make a toast to Betsey Horton, Writer Extraordinaire! To the bravest woman on The Line of Death!

Everyone in the bar drinks. There’s a moment of silence. Duke looks absolutely torn apart.

Andrew: What is it, Duke?

Duke: I just feel so guilty! I made up all these lies about her and told them to anyone who would listen. I was so mean to her all the time! But really she wasn’t so bad all along. I wish she was here now to wake me from my slumber with her loud, obnoxious laugh.

Andrew: Aww, that’s very sweet of you, Duke. I’m sure if Betsey was here right now, she would appreciate the sentiment.

Mad Dog: Oh will you guys just shut the hell up already? You’re nothin’ but a bunch of cry babies! Hey bartender, get me another beer, would ya?!

Andrew: Don’t you have anything nice to say, Mad Dog? Betsey was your friend!

Mad Dog: Meh. I’m no good at this stuff. I’d rather just drink a beer and smoke a joint instead.

Andrew: Fair enough. I can’t say Betsey would disagree with you there.

Suddenly, Betsey Horton walks into the bar, completely alive and 100% intact. Everyone turns around and stares at her in shock. They look like they’ve all just seen a ghost.

Betsey: What are you guys staring at? Is there something on my dress?

Everyone turns back around and looks Andrew with severely annoyed expressions on their face. Duke looks the angriest of them all.

Andrew: Uh… Hey guys. What’s up?

They promptly rip him to shreds like he’s Scar after the hyenas turn on him.

The End

STORY: Sam’s Little Sister

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Sam’s Mom arrives at Coyote University to help her daughter Vicky move into her freshman dorm. Vicky, who was hoping to go to college somewhere much further away from her family members, is not exactly thrilled at the prospect of once again spending the next four years of her life as “Sam’s Little Sister.”

Her worst fear is immediately confirmed when she goes to pick up her room keys. A set of blonde twins wearing lanyards around their necks are running the check-in table.

“Hi there! Welcome to the dorms! First and last name, please.”

“Vicky Shepherd.”

“Oh, are you Sam’s little sister?”

“Yeah,” Vicky says dryly. She frowns at her Mom. The twins look at each other and giggle.

“Yeah… we know Shep.”

Sam’s Mom raises her eyebrow. The twins hand Vicky her keys and start giggling again. They smile brightly at her.

“Welcome to the dorms!” they say in unison.

When they go upstairs, Vicky meets her new RA.

“Are you Sam’s little sister?” she asks excitedly.

“I sure am,” Vicky says, rolling her eyes. “Let me guess… you know him too.”

“Yeah, I know Shep,” she says with a laugh. “I know Shep very well. I see him around here all the time.”

Sam’s Mom’s mouth drops open.

“Welcome to the floor!” the RA says, showing Vicky to her room.

Sometime later, they go over to pick up Vicky’s class schedule. To the surprise of absolutely no one, the secretary recognizes her last name immediately.

“Are you Sam’s little sister?” she asks with a smile on her face.

“I see you’ve met him before too.”

“Yeah,” she sighs, flipping her hair back. “I know Shep.”

Sam’s Mom shakes her head in disbelief.

“Welcome to Coyote University!”

Vicky storms out of the office angrily. When they go to the book store to pick up Vicky’s books, the same thing happens all over again.

“Are you Sam’s little sister?” asks the girl behind the counter.

“Maybe,” Vicky snaps.

“Yeah, I know Shep,” she says with a sneaky little smile. “We study together in the library.”

“Study?” asks Sam’s Mom.

“Yeah,” she sighs dreamily. “Study…”

Finally, they decide to stop at the student center for a coffee.

“Oh! You’re not Sam’s little sister, are you?”

Vicky is so upset she can’t even respond at this point.

“Yeah, I know Shep too,” says the barista, crossing her arms and frowning. “All the girls around here know who he is.”

Vicky and her Mom walk back to Vicky’s dorm together.

“What’s my son been doing that all these girls know who he is?” their Mom wonders aloud.

“Come on, Mom,” Vicky says, rolling her eyes. “It’s pretty obvious what he’s been doing.”

All of a sudden, Sam walks in carrying a box of Vicky’s stuff. His shirt is notably absent. All of the women in the hallway stop what they’re doing to watch him walk by.

“Hey Vicky,” he says. “I brought in the last of your stuff for ya.”

All of the women’s eyes shift to Vicky. She looks around the hall nervously.

“Can’t wait to have my little sis at school with me again!” Sam says cheerfully.

Vicky scowls at him.

“Yeah.”

“So,” Sam says just loud enough so everyone can hear. “We’re having a party over at the Basketball House tonight. You can come if you want to. Maybe you can even bring some of your new friends.”

All of the freshman girls let out a collective gasp. Vicky’s scowl turns into a glare.

“We’ll see.”

“Yeah, just let me know whenever.”

Vicky turns around and goes back into her room in a huff. A moment later, Sam’s Mom calls out to him.

“Sam, can you come in here for a minute, please?”

“Yeah, sure. Just let me put my shirt back on.”

When Sam walks into Vicky’s dorm room, their Mom is standing there with her arms crossed.

“What?” he asks innocently. “It was hot outside.”

“It’s her first day of college,” she says in a low voice. “She wants to make her own friends. Can you just… cool it down, please?”

“Sorry, Mom.”

“Can I have my car keys back now, please?”

“Sure,” Sam says, tossing her the keys. “I parked it right out front for ya.”

“Thanks, honey.”

“See you later, Vicky!”

Sam winks at her and saunters off down the hall.

“I can’t do this,” Vicky says. “I want to go home right now.”

Her Mom shakes her head.

“Just look on the bright side, sweetie,” she says. “At least you’ll never have any shortage of new friends.”

Sometime later, after their Mom has finally left, Vicky hears a knock at the door. When she opens it, a group of girls is standing outside in the hall.

“Hey,” says the leader girl. “Your name is Vicky, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Was that guy who was here earlier your older brother?”

“Maybe. Who wants to know?”

“Well, we heard him mention something about a party later, and we were just wondering if you were still planning on going. We wouldn’t want you to go alone or anything. It’s better if a group of girls all go together. You know, for safety reasons.”

“Yeah,” pipes up a second girl. “Safety reasons.”

Vicky looks at the girls hesitantly.

“I don’t know…” she says half-heartedly.

“Come on,” says the leader girl. “I bet it will be fun! It’s our first big college party! We can all go down to the dining hall first and then get ready in our rooms later. Then we can all go together.”

“Well…”

“Please?” all the girls say in unison.

Vicky lets out a heavy sigh.

“Okay. We can go to the stupid basketball party, but don’t ask me to introduce you to my brother. I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to take care of that himself.”

All the girls smile together. As they walk down to the dining hall, Vicky decides to take her Mom’s advice. Maybe it’s better to look on the bright side after all.

The End

SCRIPT: The Mural On The Wall

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Betsey is sitting out on the patio of Bloody Mary’s writing in her notebook. Suddenly, a group of men come along and start getting ideas.

Andrew: I’m thinking about painting a mural right here. I have a vision in my head.

Guys: Tell us, Andrew! You’re soooooooo Great. We love you soooooo much!

Andrew: Thank you, thank you. What can I say? I am a pretty Great guy.

Guys: Tell us your vision, Andrew!

Andrew: It should be a mural of a Sexy Serving Slut!

Guys: That’s a Great idea, Andrew! Wow, you’re sooooooo Great.

Betsey: Seriously?

Andrew: She can be serving PBR! I can get the company to pay for it. I’m all about that corporate sponsorship. I get to take a little bit off the top for myself.

Betsey: Is that how you do it?

Andrew: Yes.

Guys: We don’t even care! We live to serve you, Andrew! We think you’re sooooooo Great. We all just want to be you.

Andrew: Thank you, thank you.

Betsey: Wait a second. You’re telling me you want to paint a mural of a beautiful woman serving drinks on that wall?

All the guys get hearts in their eyes and boners in their pants. They sigh dreamily together.

Guys: Yes…

Betsey: Umm… I mean… there aren’t really a whole lot of women who work here, so. Yeah. That’s not really an accurate depiction of what’s going on here. If anyone’s a Sexy Serving Slut, it’s Andrew. He can be the model!

Andrew: [shyly] You really think so?

Betsey: I know so.

Andrew: Well, thank you, but I don’t know if I have time to pose for a mural. I’m just so busy being Great all the time.

Betsey: That’s okay. You can just get Teen Angel to do it.

Teen Angel: [stands up and pumps his fist in the air] Yes!!!

Betsey: [singing softly] Started from the bottom, now we here…

Teen Angel: That’s what I’m saying!

Andrew: Okay, well let’s get this local artist who specializes in painting signs to do it.

The Artist comes in for a consultation. He leers at Betsey and asks him to model for her. She goes to his studio and discovers he is a creepy, predatory, perverted individual who likes 13 year old girls. His wife is in on the whole thing.

The Artist makes Betsey like a cheap whore. She leaves his studio and never goes back ever again. She comes to Bloody Mary’s and drinks for the rest of the day. She gives the dirty money to PJ just because she doesn’t want it in her hands.

Betsey suddenly realizes she drove out to this man’s farm out in the middle of nowhere all alone. Mad Dog says he should have gone with her. She feels sick to her stomach. Who knows what could have happened to her out there?

The Artist and Andrew sit down together for the consultation.

Andrew: This is my vision.

The Artist sketches Andrew’s vision right in front of his eyes. He is amazed and inspired.

Andrew: That looks Great! That’s exactly what I want!

The Artist: Okay, I can do that. That’ll cost you $1500.

Andrew: What?! Are you fucking kidding me? No way!

The Artist: I can do a smaller, less elaborate sign for less.

Andrew: What if it was just the PBR logo?

The Artist: It’s still going to cost you a lot. I’m a specialist. My time and talents are valuable.

Andrew: Okay, let me think about it.

The Artist leaves. Betsey writes a note to Andrew explaining what happened to her. He gets really upset and they get into a huge argument in the middle of the bar on Friday afternoon.

Andrew: You’re too opinionated! Why can’t you just keep your mouth shut?

Betsey: You don’t understand! That’s not who I am! That’s not where I’m from! I’m from Washington, D.C. There was a terrorist attack there when I was 13 years old! My Family knew people who died! I saw the ruins two days after it happened! If you see something, you say something. People’s lives are at stake here, Andrew! I can’t just not say something!

Andrew: I have feelings for you.

Betsey: What?

Andrew: I have feelings for you. I’m married.

Betsey: I have feelings for you. You’re married.

Andrew: What do we do now?

Betsey: I don’t know.

Betsey leaves and tries to avoid him for awhile. It doesn’t work. It only makes everything worse. She comes back to the bar when he’s not there. She is still extremely bothered by the sign issue. She looks around the patio and has a sudden realization. She walks up to Andrew and taps him on the shoulder.

Andrew: What?

Betsey: About the sign…

Andrew: Yes?

Betsey: Why don’t you just take the one hanging above the awning and hang it up on the wall? What’s it doing all the way up there anyway? No one can really see it. It should be hanging on the wall.

Andrew mouth drops wide open. He stands there looking at her in shock.

Betsey: You never even thought of that, did you?

Andrew: No.

Betsey: [shakes her head in disbelief] This is why you need more women around the place.

Andrew: I know.

Betsey: I just saved you $1500 and needless association with a creepy pervert. What are you going to do now?

Andrew: I’m going to Disney World!

The End

STORY: A Breath of Fresh Air

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I look up from my notebook just in time to notice the little green snake slithering toward me.

“My, my, haven’t we been working hard today?”

“So it would seem. I am a professional writer, you know. I don’t have time to just sit around all day. I’m very busy and important.”

“You’ve been working all day. Why not take a break? Relax out on my patio? Have a drink?”

“You just want me to write another story about you. That’s hardly a break.”

“I disagree,” hisses the snake. “Writing about me is a far more relaxing experience than writing about a bunch of silly old prostitutes.”

“They’re not silly,” I say. “Don’t diminish them just because you disagree with what they do. You’re not so different from one yourself. And writing about you is nowhere near as relaxing as you think. It’s actually quite stressful.”

The snake looks into my eyes hypnotically.

“Write me a story, Betsey. Please?”

“Well…” I hesitate at first, but I cannot resist him for long. “All right, if you really want one, I suppose I have just the story to satiate you. It’s about a sexy snake who lures an unsuspecting writer into his nest.”

“Sounds spectacular,” says the snake, slithering off the desk. He transforms into a handsome, young Emperor with beautiful blue eyes sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“You may tell it to me now,” he says with some authority in his voice.

“Whatever you say, Your Majesty.”

I drape myself comfortably across the chair and begin to pen the tale.

$$$

One afternoon, I was seated comfortably on the bench outside of Bloody Mary’s Bar. The wi-fi in my apartment had recently gone out, so I decided to steal it from my favourite and most-frequented bar instead. I figured I’d spent enough money there over the years to justify it.

Unfortunately, right at the moment, I looked up from my phone to see the handsome, young owner heading straight for me. Just my luck. He caught me stealing his internet from him… again.

“Hey Betsey,” he said with that sneaky smile on his face. “What are you up to today?”

“Oh nothing,” I said. “Nothing at all. I definitely wasn’t sitting here stealing your internet, if that’s what you mean.”

“Why don’t you come inside?” he asked. “Take a break. Relax on the patio. Have a drink.”

I looked him up and down once before my eyes finally settled on his left ring finger. Reality hit me like a ton of bricks again.

“No thanks,” I said. “I’ve got other plans today.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, once again catching my gaze in his. I could feel his beautiful blue eyes hypnotizing me. He gave me a winning smile as he opened the door. He closed his eyes as the cool blast of A/C hit his face. He ran his fingers through his hair and shook his mane out in the breeze. He stood there for just a moment, posing for me as if he were a model. I even noticed him lift the corner of his shirt up just a little bit.

“It sure is hot outside,” he said seductively. “You sure you don’t want to cool down with something refreshing to drink?”

I covered up my gaping mouth just in time to catch the drool.

“Uhhh…” I stumbled over myself searching for words. “Well… I guess… when you put it that way… how much could one look really hurt? I mean drink. One drink. Yeah. That’s right. I’m an alcoholic and I come here to drink.”

Andrew held the door open for me with a wide smile on his face. It wasn’t until much later that I realized I had been robbed completely blind. The worst part was, I didn’t even care. As far as I could tell, it was worth every penny.

$$$

The Emperor smiles at me and claps his hands.

“That was a good one,” he says.

“Thank you,” I reply. “I wrote it just for you.”

“Just for me?”

“Just for you.”

“But why?” he asks softly.

“Because,” I say, once again stealing a line from our mutual friend, “You’re the only person in this world that I like.”

“Thank you,” he says.

“You’re welcome.”

The End