(Mortimer sits alone at a table in a diner. He keeps looking at his watch. Minutes pass, and during this time the Waiter walks back and forth past Mortimer. Finally, the Waiter stops and smiles at Mortimer and takes out a pen.)
Waiter: Are you ready to order?
Mortimer: Not yet. I’m still waiting for someone.
Waiter: Oh good! Well, whenever you’re ready, you just wave me on over and I’ll take your order.
Mortimer: Thank you.
Waiter: Yes sir, there’s nothing I like better then someone who’s not ordering to be sitting at one of my tables during the busiest time of the day. You know, lunch is usually when I make my most tips. But rather then wait on as many tables as possible, I find it refreshing when a customer just sits at the table and eats our bread and drinks our water. I salute you sir!
Mortimer: He should be here any second.
Waiter: Well, you just inform me when he arrives!
(Mortimer half smiles and nods his head. The Waiter smirks at him and walks away. Mortimer takes a sip of his water, and every few seconds takes another one. 3 minutes later Alan enters the diner.)
Alan: Mortimer!
Mortimer: You’re late Alan!
Alan: Well, hello to you too.
Mortimer: Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to just wait in a booth during the busiest time of the day for a waiter and drink their water and eat their bread without ordering anything?
Alan: You find it embarrassing?
Mortimer: Well, I do when the waiter is constantly reminding you of the fact!
Alan: Which waiter? That waiter? Hey, waiter! Come here.
Waiter: Are you ready to oh my God. OHMIGOD! YOU’RE ALAN MIGHTY! YOU’RE THE FGW CHAMPION! ALAN MIGHTY IS SITTING AT MY TABLE! OHMIGOD! Oh, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I am such a big fan, Mr. Mighty. I’ve seen every single
Alan: That’s great. My brother says that you were bothering him about waiting for me to order?
Waiter: Oh no! No no no no no! Well, yes. I am so sorry, Mr. Mighty. If I had known who your brother was
Mortimer: My last name is not Mighty. It’s Kirscherbaum.
Waiter: Oh. I’m sorry. Anyway, are you ready to order? No rush.
Alan: We’ll need a few minutes.
Waiter: Of course Mr. Mighty! Take all of the time that you could possibly need. I’m in the service business after all. I’m here to serve! No reason for me to be pushy! That could count against me in the tip that you leave, not that you have to leave a tip. I would be quite content for my tip to be a signed napkin or just the fact that I got to serve you.
Alan: That’s enough.
Waiter: Of course. (Waiter exits.)
Alan: Still ashamed of me, Morty?
Mortimer: I’m not ashamed you. I just don’t like to be known as Alan ‘Mighty’s’ brother.
Alan: You are ashamed of me. The way you said, ‘My last name is Kirscherbaum. I am the cock of the walk.’
Mortimer: I never called myself the cock of the walk!
Alan: Yes you did! I heard you with my very ears. You said to the waiter, ‘My last name is Kirscherbaum. I am the cock of the walk. Professional wrestling is for internet nerds and fat losers who go to rodeo’s and monster truck rallies. Unlike you, my farts do not stink because I am the third most important owner of an employment agency in Rhode Island and you are a wrestling fan!’ That is exactly what you said!
Mortimer: I didn’t say anything like that! (Pause, and then they both begin to laugh.)
Alan: I can still get your face red after all these years.
Mortimer: You shouldn’t be proud of it. It’s not that difficult. How’ve you been?
Alan: Hungry. Waiter!
Waiter: Yes Mr. Mighty! What can I do for you?
Alan: I’ll have the steak and eggs combo number two.
Waiter: How would you like your steak and eggs, Mr. Mighty?
Alan: Medium rare and scrambled.
Waiter: If I could just apologize once again
Alan: There’s no need.
Waiter: I’ll be right back with your order and a complimentary cup of coffee.
Mortimer: Excuse me.
Waiter: OH! Oh I am so sorry! I am just so sorry! I don’t know where my head is today. What can I get for you, Mr. Mighty?
Mortimer: My name is I’ll have the soup and sandwich combo. Corn beef and matzo ball.
Waiter: And we’ll add in a complimentary cup of coffee for you too! I am so sorry. I’ll be I apologize again, Mr. Mightys. I’ll be right back. (Waiter exits.)
Mortimer: Do you get this everywhere you go?
Alan: Not everywhere. Usually not like this. Somebody’ll come up to me and ask for an autograph or something, but this is pretty extreme.
Mortimer: Anyway, how are you?
Alan: I can’t complain. They’ve given me another title run.
Mortimer: I heard. How’s the knee?
Alan: It’s not as bad as it used to be. I still have trouble coming off the top rope and falling to the floor. Are you suppressing a smile?
Mortimer: No.
Alan: Yes you are. Listen, if you’re going to laugh at my profession don’t ask me any questions.
Mortimer: I’m sorry! It’s just kind of stupid to me that a guy would jump off a tabernacle
Alan: Turnbuckle.
Mortimer: Turnbuckle if his knee was as messed up as yours is.
Alan: Well, it is and I do.
Mortimer: Anyway, glad to hear you’re feeling better.
Alan: Thanks. How’s business?
Mortimer: It’s tough. We got five orders yesterday. I think I might have to bring Willy back.
Alan: Willy stole money from you! He’s a drunk and a thief!
Mortimer: Yeah, well, he was good at his job. We had plenty of money to spare and his kid was going to get kicked out of college. He’s barely making it by now.
Alan: Willy is a drunk and a thief. It’s bad business.
Mortimer: He’s the best person for the job. I don’t see you offering help.
Alan: What do you need? Money?
Mortimer: I’ve never asked you for money.
Alan: Oh, but when I’ve offered it you’ve been only so happy to take it!
Mortimer: That is not true. For my birthday you gave me a check for ten thousand dollars. I returned it. You told me you were personally insulted and that I needed to take the money or you’d come home and beat the crap out of me!
Alan: I was joking.
Mortimer: You didn’t sound like you were joking.
Alan: Look, you needed the money. If I didn’t give you the money you were going to have to sell your house and declare bankruptcy. Now your business is doing fine and everything is back to normal because I helped you out.
Mortimer: Whatever. I’ll pay you back the ten thousand right now if you want.
Alan: You’re insulting me.
Mortimer: There you go again! I’m insulting you. That’s just great. That’s just goddamned great!
Alan: Wait a second! You tell me you’re going to hire Willy and I tell you I think it’s a bad idea and you ask for my help and then I offer you money and instead you offer to give me the money I gave you back?
Mortimer: I never asked for your help.
Alan: Then what did you mean when you said, ‘I don’t see you offering to help’?
Mortimer: I meant that maybe you could stop by the office and help out like you used to. You were very good.
Alan: You’re joking. You’re telling me a horrible joke.
Mortimer: What, that I’d be appreciative if you were to take a few days off and come help your brother out while he’s swamped?
Alan: I have a job! I have more then a job I’m a celebrity!
Mortimer: You’re a wrestler.
Alan: Is that not a job?
Mortimer: Is it a real job?
Alan: I make more money from tee-shirt sales in two months then you’ll see in your entire life.
Mortimer: Yeah, in my entire life of doing an honorable profession that will leave me in good health when I’m ready to retire.
Alan: So why’d you invite me out to lunch? To insult me? Is that it?
Mortimer: I thought you’d never mind. I’m sorry I brought it up.
Alan: Good. Let’s just drop the whole thing.
Mortimer: Great. (Pause)
Alan: You thought I’d what?
Mortimer: You really want to know?
Alan: Yeah. You thought I’d what?
Mortimer: All right. World War 3 again. I thought you’d had enough.
Alan: Mortimer, shut up.
Mortimer: It kills me to see you like this. It kills me to see my big brother all roided up, limping around like a gimp.
Alan: All right, shut up.
Mortimer: Yeah, your vulgar fans make it all worthwhile, don’t they? You have no wife, no real home other then that hotel room
Alan: Shut the hell up.
Mortimer: No children, and even if you did have children I doubt you’d even be able to play catch with them.
Alan: I’m going to ask you one more time nicely. Shut up.
Mortimer: You’re a drug addict.
Alan: Shut up!
Mortimer: A pathetic lonely drug addict.
Alan: SHUT UP!
Mortimer: An unnatural sideshow freak who will be alone as long as a ring and a piece of tin on a fake leather strap is more important then his family.
Alan: YOU MOTHERFUCKER! SHUT THE FUCK UP!
Mortimer: THAT’S YOUR MOTHER ALSO! (Waiter enters holding two plates and two coffee cups. He drops the coffee and lets out a girlish squel.)
Waiter: OH! Oh no! Oh, I am so sorry! Oh God! Please, don’t fight in here. It’s only my first day!
Mortimer: Then why were you giving me attitude before?
Waiter: That’s how Kelly told me to handle the bad ones! I am so sorry! Free desert all right?
Alan: That’s okay. I’m leaving. Hey, Mortimer, at least I’m living a life. You’re just dying here.
Mortimer: At least I can admit I’m dying and enjoy it. (Alan lets out a laugh and stands up.)
Alan: Sure you are. Here. (Alan throws a twenty dollar bill on the table and leaves. Mortimer stands up to go after him, changes his mind and sits back down. The waiter unsteadily places the dishes on the table. Mortimer takes the twenty dollar bill off the table and rips it in half. He then takes his own wallet out and throws another twenty onto the table. He then sadly takes a bite of his sandwich.)
The End?
Honestly, I’m running out of ideas, but I can continue this for a while if you guys would like. Send me an e-mail and tell me what you think. Thanks a lot for reading.
