LCM Is Left A Lovely Note
(scene: LCM enters the Boom Boom Room, talking on his flip phone)
LCM: (talking to Princess on the phone) Well it was all I could do, darling - they arrested Mumsey on some trumped up indecency charge - I *had* to borrow your silverware to arrange for bail money, sweetie - she was clearly a political prisoner. (patting wig) Hmmm? (glaring) Oh how rude. (nodding to the bartender to send drinks to the corner booth) She was naked, yes, but it was for *political* reasons, darling - she's been seeing the mayor in that alley for weeks now, and somehow his bitch wife got wind of it. And besides that, sweetie, you hardly ever use that silverware - maybe three times a day, tops - and this was an emergency. (patting wig) How? Because they were fumigating her usual cell *while* she was in it, darling - I mean, just guessing by your perfume, perhaps *you* enjoy a bath in DDT at every opportunity, but as a top international supermodel Mumsey has her complexion to think about. (pausing) RUDE!!! A withered hide looking for a good smokehouse to hang herself in!?!? BITCH! (throwing the cell phone) TAKE THAT!!!
(LCM bursts into tears and sweeps across the room in dramatic fashion towards the corner booth)
LCM: (bumping into lots of furniture) Ouch! (more so) Ooof! (and again) AAAK! (yelling) SOMEONE TURN A GOD DAMNED LIGHT ON - I HAVEN'T GOT BLOODY RADAR, DARLINGS!!!
(he realizes finally that he's still got his moviestar sunglasses on in the dark dank lounge setting)
LCM: (tipping the sunglasses up ala Jackie O - glaring at strangers at the bar) Well someone could have told me, sweeties - I've got a lot on my mind today.
(reaching the corner booth, he slumps into it in tears)
LCM: (weeping prettily as the waiter brings the pitcher of drinks) Thank you, darling - I'm very upset. (pausing, weeping prettily some more - until he notices the waiter isn't going away) What? This is my booth isn't it? (looking around and seeing the stains - pointing to them) See, darling? My booth. (noticing the waiter rub his fingers in the "money now" sort of way) Oh, that. Well it's not very charitable on your part, but I shan't argue - just give me a moment here, darling. (rooting through his Prada bag and then clanging a few knives and forks onto the table) There, sweetie. (pausing - noticing the waiter's glare) Now look, darling, it's all very good silverware - it's worth thousands of dollars - and here - (clanging out a couple of big serving spoons) - there's a nice tip for you - now bugger off, I've got a charity gala to plan - Mumsey's going to need a lawyer and some fabulous new frocks for the upcoming trial.
(the waiter rolls his eyes and carts the silverware off, as LCM begins drinking)
LCM: (drinkingly) Oh thank god - one more minute of sobriety and *someone* was losing an eye. (nerves calmer, patting wig, glancing at the table) Oh what's this, then? Hmmm? (taking a card from the table and reading it)
'Maroon Keet: I am so honored to be allowed a glimpse into your oh so devine and FAB-u-lous life. I think your theme song/logo should be "Nobody knows the bubbles I've seen" whilst a champagne bottle (paid for by one of the servants, of course) floats by. Ah I look forward to the stories that are not fit for Usenet...Bowing and scraping as I leave....'maroon Keet.
LCM: (eyes swimming) Oh how perfectly kind. (quiet for a nice moment of niceness) Sigh. (smiling) I really must write them a note of thanks in return...
(he roots through the Prada bag and retrieves a big Pink feathered quill pen, a blank ratty cocktail napkin and begins to write)
LCM: (writingly) Dearest Keanu - thank you for your kind, sweet note of the 15th, darling - I'd just returned from a booking engagement for Mumsey and my spirits were in a weathered state indeed. I quite agree that the new theme song sounds delightful, darling, as I do love the occasional glass of champagne. (pausing to gulp more vodka with wild, yet elegant abandon) Oh, and yes - the stories. I've got a million of them, sweetie - I've lived each day as if it were my first - some say live it as your last, but then an enraged gypsy woman once told me I'd die in a fiery armed standoff and I didn't like that sounds of that, so I do it this way instead. (pausing for more vodka and inspiration) I'm sorry to hear about your rash and all the scraping, sweetie, but it happens to the best of us, I know. Try that Bulgarian doctor down on First Street - he's very discrete and he cooks a good breakfast too, if you're low on funds that way. Give my love to David Geffen and be sure to attend my upcoming defense fund charity gala - we're auctioning off some antique furniture - I hope you like pink, but then what sane person does - you can always have it reupholstered. Best wishes - LCM.
LCM: (patting wig) That reminds me - I'd better tell the Marcels to hide that furniture in the Sweetiecave - I heard down at the police station how Princess had reported it stolen. Tsk. (annoyed, glancing around) Where's that flip phone - I forgot to accuse her of that.
(the scene ends with LCM inexplicably putting his sunglasses back on and stumbling around the bar looking for the phone)
{{{{{LCM}}}}}
Centre of the Known Universe
LCM: (talking to Princess on the phone) Well it was all I could do, darling - they arrested Mumsey on some trumped up indecency charge - I *had* to borrow your silverware to arrange for bail money, sweetie - she was clearly a political prisoner. (patting wig) Hmmm? (glaring) Oh how rude. (nodding to the bartender to send drinks to the corner booth) She was naked, yes, but it was for *political* reasons, darling - she's been seeing the mayor in that alley for weeks now, and somehow his bitch wife got wind of it. And besides that, sweetie, you hardly ever use that silverware - maybe three times a day, tops - and this was an emergency. (patting wig) How? Because they were fumigating her usual cell *while* she was in it, darling - I mean, just guessing by your perfume, perhaps *you* enjoy a bath in DDT at every opportunity, but as a top international supermodel Mumsey has her complexion to think about. (pausing) RUDE!!! A withered hide looking for a good smokehouse to hang herself in!?!? BITCH! (throwing the cell phone) TAKE THAT!!!
(LCM bursts into tears and sweeps across the room in dramatic fashion towards the corner booth)
LCM: (bumping into lots of furniture) Ouch! (more so) Ooof! (and again) AAAK! (yelling) SOMEONE TURN A GOD DAMNED LIGHT ON - I HAVEN'T GOT BLOODY RADAR, DARLINGS!!!
(he realizes finally that he's still got his moviestar sunglasses on in the dark dank lounge setting)
LCM: (tipping the sunglasses up ala Jackie O - glaring at strangers at the bar) Well someone could have told me, sweeties - I've got a lot on my mind today.
(reaching the corner booth, he slumps into it in tears)
LCM: (weeping prettily as the waiter brings the pitcher of drinks) Thank you, darling - I'm very upset. (pausing, weeping prettily some more - until he notices the waiter isn't going away) What? This is my booth isn't it? (looking around and seeing the stains - pointing to them) See, darling? My booth. (noticing the waiter rub his fingers in the "money now" sort of way) Oh, that. Well it's not very charitable on your part, but I shan't argue - just give me a moment here, darling. (rooting through his Prada bag and then clanging a few knives and forks onto the table) There, sweetie. (pausing - noticing the waiter's glare) Now look, darling, it's all very good silverware - it's worth thousands of dollars - and here - (clanging out a couple of big serving spoons) - there's a nice tip for you - now bugger off, I've got a charity gala to plan - Mumsey's going to need a lawyer and some fabulous new frocks for the upcoming trial.
(the waiter rolls his eyes and carts the silverware off, as LCM begins drinking)
LCM: (drinkingly) Oh thank god - one more minute of sobriety and *someone* was losing an eye. (nerves calmer, patting wig, glancing at the table) Oh what's this, then? Hmmm? (taking a card from the table and reading it)
'Maroon Keet: I am so honored to be allowed a glimpse into your oh so devine and FAB-u-lous life. I think your theme song/logo should be "Nobody knows the bubbles I've seen" whilst a champagne bottle (paid for by one of the servants, of course) floats by. Ah I look forward to the stories that are not fit for Usenet...Bowing and scraping as I leave....'maroon Keet.
LCM: (eyes swimming) Oh how perfectly kind. (quiet for a nice moment of niceness) Sigh. (smiling) I really must write them a note of thanks in return...
(he roots through the Prada bag and retrieves a big Pink feathered quill pen, a blank ratty cocktail napkin and begins to write)
LCM: (writingly) Dearest Keanu - thank you for your kind, sweet note of the 15th, darling - I'd just returned from a booking engagement for Mumsey and my spirits were in a weathered state indeed. I quite agree that the new theme song sounds delightful, darling, as I do love the occasional glass of champagne. (pausing to gulp more vodka with wild, yet elegant abandon) Oh, and yes - the stories. I've got a million of them, sweetie - I've lived each day as if it were my first - some say live it as your last, but then an enraged gypsy woman once told me I'd die in a fiery armed standoff and I didn't like that sounds of that, so I do it this way instead. (pausing for more vodka and inspiration) I'm sorry to hear about your rash and all the scraping, sweetie, but it happens to the best of us, I know. Try that Bulgarian doctor down on First Street - he's very discrete and he cooks a good breakfast too, if you're low on funds that way. Give my love to David Geffen and be sure to attend my upcoming defense fund charity gala - we're auctioning off some antique furniture - I hope you like pink, but then what sane person does - you can always have it reupholstered. Best wishes - LCM.
LCM: (patting wig) That reminds me - I'd better tell the Marcels to hide that furniture in the Sweetiecave - I heard down at the police station how Princess had reported it stolen. Tsk. (annoyed, glancing around) Where's that flip phone - I forgot to accuse her of that.
(the scene ends with LCM inexplicably putting his sunglasses back on and stumbling around the bar looking for the phone)
{{{{{LCM}}}}}
Centre of the Known Universe
posted by LCM @ 9:41 p.m.
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