How are we suppose to scale back our energy costs when you are filling this generator with gasoline?
Yeah bro, since when did you start running the bar on a gas generator?
About a week ago. I've been doing it for about a week.
Well because you know electricity is so expensive man. So I figured let's get a generator and you know run the bar on it.
Are you kidding me?! Gasoline is like a thousand times more expensive than electricity!
You know what Charlie, you shouldn't be making these decisions anyway, okay? You're not the decision making type. As the brains of this organization, I should have made this decision.
Hey, whoa, whoa, I'm sorry. Since when did you become the brains?
Uhh...I'm sorry. I've always been the brains.
What?! What are you talking about? I thought I was the brains. What the hell am I?
Well, yeah, of course I'm the looks, but I always thought of myself as the brains and the looks.
No, you're the looks, I'm the brains, and Charlie is the wildcard. That's...
Yeah! Yeah, that's the classic setup. You know this, no? Look, every great crew in history has followed that basic dynamic, right? Looks, brains, wildcard. Think about it! The A-team did it. Scooby Doo did it. The Ghostbusters did it!
Yes! Right? Our problem is that we don't stick to that basic format and it gets us in trouble.
So what you're saying is that by breaking from that format, we're actually limiting our ability to be as successful as those organizations.
You're totally right, dude.
Great, onto the matter at hand. We're getting plowed in the ass by the oil companies and the gas companies with their ten gallon hats and their rotten ass-plowing hearts. So, as the brains of this organization, I came up with a plan.
It involves us pulling up our bootstraps, oiling up a couple of asses, and doing a little plowing of our own. [long pause] Not gay sex.
Ah...okay, 'cause that's what it sounded like. What did you mean...
We're gonna solve the gas crisis!
Alright, well just let me do the talking.
Well, I feel like you got to at least talk with a southern accent, man. [rings doorbell]
No, I'm not going to talk in a southern accent. It's bad enough that you wore this stupid "disguise."
But we're oil men! We would have southern accents.
Yeah, but we don't need bolo ties and stupid hats...
Yes, we do! She's gonna...
[front door answered]
Hello ma'am. Well, uh, what a lovely house dress.
Yeah, well you're lookin' all sorts o' good!
Now, you seem like a sweet, sophisticated, nice, busy young lady so we're not going to waste your time today.
Nah, we're just a couple oil men in from Dallas and well, heh, we're itching like a hound to give you ah somethin' you want.
Heh, what my associate is trying to say is that we're here to offer your community a much needed service...
Hells yeah! We want to fill you up if you so inclined to let us.
Please let me do the talking. Please.
Now, we ain't gonna take no for an answer now you here, heh. Okay? So don't be making me sick my associate on your here, alright? He don't take kindly to no. So, can I fill you up or what?
[rushing into the van]
Ya, best get to steppin' cause Johnny Law's a-comin'!
Yeah, you might want to start driving because she called the cops on us.
Why's he talking like that?
Well wildcard over here decided to lose his mind.
Now I say, I say that's just damn preposterous, boy!
Now you're just talking like Foghorn Leghorn!
Alrigh guys, I think it's time we just cut our losses and go back to the original plan.
No, not the generator! Storing the gas at Paddy's.
It's too soon to sell this gas anyway. Just shut the door.
You're not calling the cops! They'll find the bug I'm gonna plant!
That's a baby monitor, Frank. You're planting a baby monitor?
Yeah, a lot of people are bugging their babies these days... I guess babies can't be trusted...
What are you expecting to find?
Like maybe Bruce is banging dudes!
Maybe the dudes are babies!
What?! Bruce is not banging any baby dudes!!
[The gang driving in the rape van]
Wait...the brakes...the brakes aren't working.
Brakes aren't working. No, I'm saying...no, the brakes.
Wiggle it, it gets better...
Guys, why aren't the brakes working!
Because I cut the brakes! Wildcard, bitches! Yeeeeehaaaaw!!! [jumps out of the back of the van]
[The gang is driving in the rape van]
Wait, the brakes...the brakes aren't working.
Brakes aren't working. No, I'm saying..nno, the brakes.
Wiggle it, it gets better.
Guys, why aren't the brakes working?!
BECAUSE I CUT THE BRAKES! WILDCARD, BITCHES! YEEEEEEEEEEHAAAAAAAAAAW!!! [jumps out of the back of the van after kicking the trunk door open, as the rest of the group immediately abort the plan and get out of the runaway van]
[cut to the inside of "Bruce's" apartment as he is watching a golf game]
GAGolf announcer on the TV
Mastersfield steps up behind the tee, eight strokes behind the leader. Hole number 17, 338 yards, dogleg left.
[suddenly a massive explosion rocks his apartment and blows out his windows with explosive force as the rape van, full of gasoline barrels, hits the van of "Bruce", utterly destroying both cars in a gigantic fireball]
