Scene 8

The convenience store. A scrolling LED light turns on and begins scrolling the words, "Your Message Will Scroll Here."

The phone rings a couple times. A loud rumble and the phone falls off the hook, the person is in midconversation with someone else on the other end.

Phone : And then I said to the guy - What the fuck! I don't want to hear that. You're not nearly as important as you think you are. You're just like everybody else. Living your life just like I do. You just go to different places. You've got God, I've got the Internet. Some people have both. I don't care. I mind my own business. Mind yours. You ever read the Grapes of Wrath? I didn't. I was supposed to, but I read three chapters before turning on that Darkwing Duck cartoon. What ever happened to weekday afternoon cartoons? They hardly exist anymore. It's all Maury or Soaps or something ridiculous. I miss ABC in the afternoons. I shouldn't have to get ABC Family to watch Boy Meets World. I grew up with that show. Or at least, that show grew up with me. And what's worse is that I'm not the only one my age watching that show. We're not that different, you and me. Fucking A. You know what? We're the same because we're both obsessed with fucking and death. And why not? It's one of the few goddamn things we can barely keep ourselves from being a part of from age 13 to 32 and the last thing we think about or want to think about after 51. Death and fucking death and fucking death and fucking. I don't fucking care.

The phone hangs up.