SCOTT: Would you stop vomiting? For fucks sake, William. Im the one who should be
puking. Youd think youve never been on a transatlantic flight before.
WILLIAM: Ugh. I havent.
DIRK: The stench is unbearable.
WILLIAM: I think it was the eggplant, ugh.
SCOTT: Never order the vegetarian entrée on a plane. Stewardess, another barf bag, please. And another gin and tonic for me. And some Lysol. And paper towels. Dirk?
DIRK: Another peach nectar and vodka, please.
STEWARDESS (Jane Kelly): Terribly sorry, but were out of peach nectar, sir, youve quaffed our last can.
DIRK: Damn. Whose idea was it to fly BA? Can I ask you that? Whose idea? My steak was too tough, and the sautéed mushrooms were cold and my biscuit was stale. Well please bring me a Coke, a glass of ice water, and some bourbon. You do have bourbon?
STEWARDESS: We have scotch, sir.
DIRK: Fine. Single Malt Barrel Aged 20 years?
STEWARDESS: Yes, sir.
DIRK: Well, chop, chop, then.
STEWARDESS: Right away.
DIRK: If youd have let me bring some of my acolytes, we would not have encountered such diff
SCOTT: Look, Dirk, Im telling you that kind of shit is bringing us negative publicity. This is meant to be a literary movement not a cult ofa cult ofwhat am I thinking a cult of
WILLIAM: Personality. A cult of personality. Ugh. Water.
DIRK: You cant protest that Ive not brought us somewhat into the limelight.
SCOTT: Limelight? Dirk? Hard Copy is not fucking limelight. Its lime-green-shitlight. Its notoriety. Fucking enquiring minds want to knowI dont want to get harrassed at every fucking airport weWe dont need a bunch of fucking guys in robes following us around spouting your poetry as if it were the fucking word ofGoddamn is it hot in here. Im sweating like a fucking pig
SCOTT: You know it, fucking methadone. Why did you ever get me on this stuffIts been hours
STEWARDESS: Your sixth round of drinks, gentlemen.
SCOTT: Its great that theyre free, Jane, right? Jane, could I get another handful of those great English chocolates?
STEWARDESS: Ill have to charge you sir, youve already had
SCOTT: Right, whatever, just please bring me those chocolates, bill me, no? Ive got cash, whatever, and can you take thataway, sorry about that, hes
SCOTT: Not accustomed to flying. We usually drive but
STEWARDESS: Not to worry, sir, its my job.
WILLIAM: Ugh, we appreciate.
SCOTT: Would you, Dirk, would please fucking stop the goddamn fucking humming?
DIRK: Its my mantra.
SCOTT: Look, Dirk, I dont give a solid fuck if thats your chant or your chakra, or your mumbled satori, or some kind of acid reflux reaction or your mothers fucking maiden name, okay, its just driving me fucking nuts, is what it is, alright? The movies about to come on.
SCOTT: Shit. Shit William. This is a brand new suit, dammit.
SCOTT: Oh great, another fucking talking animal movie. I cant watch that. Fucking Hollywood. Jane, sorry, sorry Jane.
STEWARDESS: Your handful of chocolates, sir.
SCOTT: Thanks, Jane.
STEWARDESS: That will be ten pounds, sir.
SCOTT: Right, whatever, here, keep the change. And Im sorry, could I get some, I dont know, more towels, and some, shit, some English Leather, or whatever. For the stink. And, ah, do you have anything that would, you know, sort of, uh, put him out, for the remainder of the flight.
STEWARDESS: A tranquilizer sir?
SCOTT: Excellent. Yes he needs one, and yes, Ill, uh, yeah, Ill take one as well, Dirk?
DIRK: May as well.
STEWARDESS: Gladly, gentlemen. No charge for that, courtesy of British Airways.