Seinfeld - the Post-Nineties Era (a Scott & Josh Story)
The Never Ending Quest - Episode 71274
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He could remember it almost like it was yesterday...Scott’s funeral. That
damned wiffle bat. Why did it have to be so confusing? ... Back in Jerry's apartment in New York, a few days earlier, Jerry was packing. Elaine was just sitting at the table watching Jerry and helping in no way whatsoever. Jerry often wondered why he even suffered her existence - or paid her for sexual favors. Did she know who he was? He was a star! She was just another broad.“Is that it?” he wondered aloud. “Got the cue tips, got the mini-umbrella, something boring to read on the plane, duct tape, flashlights, rope, vanilla pudding. Got the wiffle bat in case that jerk Scott turns into a zombie. Got the seven kilos of cocaine for the after party.” He zipped his bag with exaggerated motions. “That's it. Done!” Elaine clapped her hands mockingly. “That is the single greatest packing performance I have ever seen. Well, at least better than OTHER sorts of performances I’ve seen coming from you! Ha!” The sarcasm in her voice only fueled the fire of mutual hatred that had been steadily growing between them. She of course was referring to his inability to maintain an erection for more than thirty seconds.Still, Jerry was very proud. “I am...the master packer,” he proclaimed. Elaine laughed that horrid laugh of hers. Something akin to the screams of a drowning kitten. How did he know what a drowning kitten sounded like? Long story. “Yeah, right,” she quipped, “you're the master packer. More like...Mastur-BATOR! HA!”“Mature, Elaine. Real mature What you must understand, however,” he said, picking up the wiffle bat, “is that I could care less about what you think! About ANYTHING! You know, I have half a mind to jam this wiffle bat RIGHT DOWN YOUR THROAT, you stupid bitch!” Elaine rolled her eyes. “'Scuuuuse me...master packer! Talk about maturity...”“You know I could do it.” “Whatever. Just gimme your keys, asshole”“Ya, I’ll give ya something, alright,” he replied, gesturing at the wiffle bat. He continued to heap assorted obscenities on her. In the end, however, he tossed her his keys. His apartment buzzer went off. “George?” he spoke into the intercom. “Yeah, it’s me, numbnuts. Hurry up. I think I’m being trailed.” George always thought he was being trailed by CIA agents. Ever since he’d developed that nasty crack-habit of his, that is.“Okay, so, now, is there anything else I need to know 'bout this place?” Elaine asked. “Uh, yeah, the uuhh, the smell. Ignore it. It’s this whole crazy thing. There’s no dead bodies in here. I promise. Well maybe there is. Don’t go looking for it, though. And if, and this is a big IF, the police come by with a warrant. Jump out the window. It’s your best shot at avoiding criminal charges. Either that or there’s an AK-47 under the sofa. Extra amo’s in the bedroom. Also, uh, the hot water takes a little while to come on. So, the best thing to do is to turn it on, do all your whoring or whatever the hell it is you do when you’re not tormenting me with your presence. Then come back and take a shower and wash off the sin you’ve accumulated that day.”“Okay, this is quite a place.” “There's more, the freezer. Ignore the head.” He used the wiffle bat to point to certain severed body parts scattered about in the refrigerator and freezer. “Just ignore ‘em. They’re guys that owed me some money...aww, it’s a long story. Boring, really.”“I'll eat out.” “You’re God damn right you will. One more thing, speaking of EATING OUT, regarding sexual activity: strictly prohibited, but if you absolutely must, do us all a big favour: do it in the tub.”George walked in, scratching himself all over as his crack withdrawals worsened. “Ready?” Jerry held up a finger. “Yeah, one sec.”The fat, balding crack-addict wiped the perspiration off of his forehead and fidgeted about nervously. “Hey, Elaine.” Elaine gave a quick nod. “Hi.”“Coming to the airport with us?” “No, I'm staying here for the weekend. I'm getting a break from my roommate.”George snapped his fingers. “Oh, I remember, the actress-prostitute.” “No, the prostitute-actress. She just got this boob job done in LA and now she’s getting all these new customers coming over.”George shrugged. “You just kick her out.” “She's on the lease!...George you have got to find another place for me. OTHER than an alleyway.”“Yeah, well...a little ruff finding something good in your price-range, you poverty-stricken wench.” He looked like he remembered something and turned to Jerry. “But you, my friend, may be in luck.” Jerry shook his head. “I'm not looking.”“No no no, not an apartment! A whore!” “Yeah, what's she like? She IS a she, right? Not another one of those transgender freaks!”“It was an ACCIDENT! Anyway, that was three weeks ago. Let bygones be bygones. Now, I haven't actually seen her yet, per se, but she’s got all her teeth and doesn’t have any STDs! She hangs out at west 83rd, 'bout a half block from the park. And she’s Asian.” Jerry seemed mildly interested. “How much?”“Uh, twice what you pay for Elaine, but she’s a saucy little minx. She takes crack AND credit cards as payment! And you should see what she can do with a wiffle bat!” “How do you know how much I pay for Elaine? And 'saucy little minx'? What are you, British, all of a sudden? Why do I need a saucy little minx, anyway? I got enough troubles maintaining an erection with Elaine. Classy broads get me nervous! I’ll never be able to get it up! It’s that performance anxiety thing, you know?”George looked at Elaine with a "he's-crazy-look"; Jerry turned around. “I saw that.” “You oughtta least take a look at her,”George drove on.“Really? Why?” “'Cause then I could have sloppy seconds. And she probably has a decent crack dealer she could hook me up with. Networking, Jerry. It’s all about NETWORKING!”“Ooohhhh.” “Listen, Jerry,” Elaine broke in, “my body is falling apart. The nineties are LOOONG gone. I’ve got three types of HIV, THREE TYPES, and my breasts are sagging so low I could almost trip over them...”George vehemently agreed. “Let's not forget the vagina. It’s like a bio-hazard area. It really should be looked at by a professional. Some scary stuff's going on down there. And would it hurt to give it a little shaving or a waxing once in awhile? It’s like Don King’s head in there!” Elaine looked flustered. “LIKE!? It IS his head! Jerry, come on, you're doin' okay now, you got that Bee Movie gig and stuff, you should at least take a look at her. You shouldn't have to live like this.”“I dunno,” Jerry droned. “This whole conversation is making me uncomfortable. I mean, just LOOK at us! This is horrible! What's become of us!? Ever since we got out of prison I feel like we've become a bunch of low-lives...” George sighed. “Jerry, what do ya...you wanna...you wanna see the whore or not?”“I can't think about it now. Come on, I'm going to Scotland. I got this stupid funeral I gotta get to. One of my neighbors. Suicide, they say.”
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Ib (this one's bad. Really, really bad. I'm sorry. It's wrong, I know this)
11/17/2007 7:01:31 PM
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