Thursday, August 02, 2007
Clay and Kimmel: It Don't Mean a Thing...
(Clay and Kimmel are talking on their iPhones.)
Clay: Well, Jimmy? Are ya comin’ ta the Greek or aren’tcha?
Kimmel (reluctantly): Um...I wanted to talk to you about that--
Clay (firmly): Uh-UH. No excuses. It’s on a Saturday night, so don’t be tellin’ me ya got a show or hafta tape that goofy game show o' yores. NOT.BUYIN.’
Kimmel: Actually, I was going to ask if you had any more VIP tickets you could--
Clay: MORE tickets? (smiling) So yore rilly comin?’
Kimmel: Of course. (laying it on thick) You’re my best friend and soulmate, aren'tcha? Your poster is over my bed, isn't it? I’m all about supporting the arts, aren't I? And--
Clay (sardonically): --AND y’know if ya didn’t show I’d send a bounty hunter after yore ass.
Kimmel: Yep, that’s the ticket. Speaking of which -- got any more?
Clay: Jimmy, I alriddy got ya four. How many more d’ya need?
Kimmel: Well, I had Sarah and Uncle Frank and Aunt Chippy coming, but now Cousin Sal and Guillarmo and Veatrice and my bandleader Cleto and Cleto Senior want to come, too.
Clay: Wow...Ah’m rilly flattered they all wanna be thayre. So...that’ll be nine altogether? You need five more, right?
Kimmel: If four plus five equals nine, then yeah, that’s what I need.
Clay: Yore nothin’ if not a math whiz, aren’tcha? You shore all these folks’re gonna be able ta make it? Ah’d shore hate ta take the good seats from mah intrepid clackgatherers fer nothin.’ What're the venue security guys gonna do with themselves? An' otherwise who the heck is gonna record me pickin’ mah nose an’ hittin’ bad notes an’ fallin’ on mah butt?
Kimmel: Well, if you really want that filmed for posterity (or posterior, heh heh), I’d be glad to send over one of MY cameramen. Lord knows they're used to you making an ass out of yourself. (mock pleading) C'mon, Clay...pleeeeaze, can I have those extra tickets? Pleeeeeze? Can I? Huh? Can I? Huh? Huh?
Clay (giving him a hard time): Ah don’t know...that’s a lot. What if yore people don’t show up? Ah don't wanna be lookin' at a buncha empty seats.
Kimmel: Oh, they’ll be there all right. (cackles) If they want to keep their jobs.
Clay: Jimmy...ya cain’t fire yore family. Especially Sarah. (slyly) Unless she’s gotta different...um...position than Ah thought.
Kimmel: Ahem! Oh, hey. I wanted to talk to you about this celebrity golf tournament thing.
Clay: Oh, yeah. Nice of ya ta agree ta do it, Jimmy.
Kimmel: No problem. You’re gonna be in my foursome, aren’t ya?
Clay (appalled): Jimmy! Ya know Ah don’t approve o’ that kinky group stuff.
Kimmel (patiently): No, Clay...for golf. A foursome for GOLF.
Clay (blushing): Oh. Ah see. (pause, deadpan) No.
Kimmel: Why not?
Clay (shrugs): Ah suck at sports.
Kimmel (snorts): Puh-leeze. Golf isn’t a sport.
Clay (drily): Rilly. Don’t tell Tiger Woods.
Kimmel: I mean, yeah...those professional golfers, they’re athletes. But guys like you 'n' me--
Clay (wry laugh): --like YOU, ya mean--
Kimmel: --like me, we just ride around on golf carts and scratch ourselves and have a few laughs and knock back beers and every once in a while we flail away with a nine iron. It’s just a social thing.
Clay: Ah guess Ah kin think of more innerstin’ social thangs than gittin’ loaded, fallin’ inta a lagoon, an’ gittin' pneumonia, which Ah don’t need ta remind ya is what happened the LAST time ya played in one o' these golf tournaments. In which case, Ah'm not shore this is such a good ahdea.
Kimmel: Hey, could I help it if Regis pushed me? Ruined a perfectly good fake Rolex. Anyway, this social thing’ll raise boatloads of money for your foundation -- what’s it called again? The Bugel-whatever it is.
Clay: Oh, you are SO fulla shi-stuff. You know durn well mah name is on it...y’know...jest fer fundraisin’ purposes an’ all.
Kimmel (bemused): Uh huh. Aren’t WE full of ourselves. And I can't believe you said "durn."
Clay (flustered): I--you--oh, skip it. Anyway...Ah don't know how ta play golf.
Kimmel: That's okay -- I can teach ya. It's all in the swing, and keeping your eye on the ball. Coordination and all that. Piece of cake.
Clay (doubtfully): Coordination, huh? (major eyeroll) So...if I do that foursome with you, that’d mean we’d hafta pick two other kinda well-known folks, right?
Kimmel: NOW who’s the math whiz? Yeah, we’d have to get two more. (teasingly) I was thinking maybe I’d ask a friend of mine...a lady you’ve actually met...
Clay (suspiciously): Who?
Kimmel: Let’s just say I’m sure she’d be happy to lend a HAND.
Clay (slow burn): Jimmy, are golf clubs considered blunt objects?
TO BE CONTINUED
Posted by Pink Armchair at 5:12 PM