Monday, January 9, 2012

1/5/12 - Smiles I've Rehearsed for Days

Hotel Riu Guanacaste - Main Bar

SPYGOD: Myron! Been looking for you all day, son. You been here the whole !@#$ time?

UNDERMAN: What time is it?

SPYGOD: Six in the morning.

UNDERMAN: What day...?

SPYGOD: Holy !@#$, son. You are drunk.


SPYGOD: Well, you look like you haven't showered in two weeks and you smell like someone dragged your sorry !@#$ around the bottom of a beer barrel. And I ain't gonna try and taste you, but I suspect that's hoochsweat coming out of your pores. So, yeah, drunk about covers it.

UNDERMAN: Oh good. I wouldn't want to be anything less than !@#$faced right now. It makes me feel like a man.

SPYGOD: As long as you're remembering to get up and !@#$ every few hours.

UNDERMAN: I think I made it halfway to the mens room last time.

SPYGOD: Ah, that explains the puddle by the door.

UNDERMAN: Add it to my !@#% room bill.

SPYGOD: Okay. What is this !@#$, son?

UNDERMAN: What? I'm drunk. Can't a man get !@#$faced on the job in this company, anymore?

SPYGOD: Well, it's a something of a professional hazard, I'll admit. And after the job you did, I'm-

UNDERMAN: That's just it, sir. The job I did.

SPYGOD: What about it?

UNDERMAN: I am not !@#$ satisfied with my job performance. Sir.

SPYGOD: Really? Because from where I'm sitting, you have every reason to be. I have no complaints.

UNDERMAN: You have no complaints? None?

SPYGOD: Well... maybe you could have not smashed that one bank of servers coming up. But we had no idea what the insides of that place looked like, other than where the reactor core was. So I call that a calculated risk, and I've certainly done worse with better intel.

UNDERMAN: I know, sir. You keep telling me that.

SPYGOD: So why don't we talk about what's really !@#$ you up, son?

UNDERMAN: *sigh* It's... !@#$. It's The Machinehead, sir. I think I got him killed.

SPYGOD: How did you do that? He volunteered for this, son. That's what happens in this business.

UNDERMAN: Is that what you thought happened? So Number Two didn't tell you?

SPYGOD: Point one, never call him Number Two. It's Second. Point two, what should he have told me?

UNDERMAN: He was in no real position to refuse, sir. I reactivated him and wiped large parts of his memory and personality with refrigerator magnets.

SPYGOD: Oh, so that's how you got him to play along? I was wondering about that.

UNDERMAN: Oh, did I ever get him to !@#$ play along. When I was done with him he was a shadow of his former self. Sort of a cross between Commander Data and Eek the Cat. Dunno if that means anything to you or not...

SPYGOD: "Sure, Captain! It never hurts to help!"


SPYGOD: What, you think I didn't watch TV back in the 90's? Come on, son. I can get it my head if I look at the horizon just right. It's how I keep up with my soaps on the go. What few ones are still running, anyway. !@#$ cancellations.

UNDERMAN: So, are we done talking about your problems, sir? I'm the one who's drunk today.

SPYGOD: Indeed you are, son. You wouldn't !@#$ lip off to me like that if you weren't.


SPYGOD: So. Machinehead the computerized conqueror becomes a do-be with no sense of self preservation. He becomes a functional part of your team. You utilize his skills and knowledge without having to worry about him suddenly trying to take over the !@#$ world when you've got your back turned. The plan works well enough that I'm not chasing you around the crater taking potshots at your fat !@#$. In fact, I'm quite !@#$ pleased.

UNDERMAN: And now he's dead.

SPYGOD: So he is. Why do you care?

UNDERMAN: ... Because he was my responsibility. He was a part of my team. I recruited him, I got him on board, I !@#$ rehabilitated him, for !@#$ sake. And-

SPYGOD: And because he was a mind-smashed but useful remnant of his former self, he went into their mainframe and didn't come back out again. Why do you care?

UNDERMAN: For a while I thought I didn't, and that bothered the !@#$ out of me. And now I think I actually do care. And that's because I think I failed him. I !@#$ know I failed him.

SPYGOD: Yeah, well. Maybe you did. But let me explain something to you, son. And when I'm done explaining, I want you to put down that bottle, go up to your room, take a !@#$ shower, go to bed, and do not come back out again until you can act like an Agent rather than a crying wreck of a man. Understood?

UNDERMAN: ... Yes sir.

SPYGOD: Those men are not your friends. They are criminals. You didn't rehabilitate any of them. You got them on board for a mission. Now that the mission's over, you're more than entitled to toss their sorry !@#$ back in their cells, because chances are good that the longer we leave them out there, the more likely they are to get up to criminal !@#$ again. And then we not only have to end their sorry !@#$, but we've got another mess to clean up.

UNDERMAN... I see.

SPYGOD: I sure !@#$ hope so. You I brought into the fold and made an Agent because I realized there was more to you than a bad costume and a !@#$ up career choice. Them, I'm not so sure about--

UNDERMAN: Professor Nightmare needs to be watched. I can see him trying to force the others into little brain games. I did my best to keep him under control, but even then I could tell he was running a game on me, too. I think watching those HONEYCOMB soldiers try to crack their own heads open to get the monster eggs out's given him enough satisfaction to wallow in, but sooner or later that mud's going to dry up.

SPYGOD: And are you keeping an eye on that mud?

UNDERMAN: I've got Icemaster watching him. I've got watching Zalea watching Icemaster because Zalea doesn't trust Icemaster. And Toyboss is watching both of them because he's in !@#$ love with me, sick as that sounds.

SPYGOD: Okay. I am officially !@#$ confused. On one hand, you have this program down better than I thought.

UNDERMAN: And on the other I'm crying like a little baby over a dead robot world conqueror.

SPYGOD: An explanation would be nice, son.

UNDERMAN: Because I remade him, sir. The others, I played their weaknesses and strengths against each other. I'm still doing it, for !@#$ sake. Even now, drunk off my ass, the machine's rolling on. But The Machinehead? I made him a little boy, again, and then told him to go play in a minefield he wasn't ready for.

SPYGOD: So you feel like a parent whose kid just died in a car wreck they caused.

UNDERMAN: Exactly! !@#$ right on the !@#$ head with that nail and hammer, sir. I'm sitting here wondering if I'd left this bit of memory or that instinct still in there, would be be alive today or not?

SPYGOD: ... your younger brother was retarded, wasn't he?

UNDERMAN: Yes, Robert was a little slow. That's why he...



SPYGOD: Hard to see the forest when you're puking against the tree, isn't it?

UNDERMAN: Yeah. I think I'm going to have that shower, now, sir.

SPYGOD: You go do that, son. And don't let's get lippy with me again, okay? Drunk or sober, I will cap you in the !@#$.

UNDERMAN: I won't. Good night sir. Morning. Something.

SPYGOD: A very long shower. With soap. I'll keep an eye on the professor.

BARTENDER: What will it be, sir?

SPYGOD: Gimmie two of everything.

BARTENDER: ... Of course, sir.

SPYGOD: And peanuts! Psychological counseling makes me !@#$ thirsty.

BARTENDER: Yes, sir.

(SPYGOD is listening to Jo the Waiter (Gary Numan) and drinking two of everything)

No comments:

Post a Comment