User:Verto/UnScripts:On the John

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This script art a part of

The UnScripts Project

Your personal Shakspearian folio of humor, love, woe and other silly emotions.

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edit Prologue

It is a warm, sweaty day in downtown Boston. The hustle and bustle of the city fills the air as the sun gleams down on the wishing and washing waves of the harbour. Boats bob side to side, and the distant sound of seagulls manifests itself in the glowing morning. However, this is not where our story takes place. Our story takes place in a dull office building in downtown London, England. The hustle and bustle of the miserable workers fills the air as the light fixtures illuminate the bored people in their generic cubicles. Papers are copied and shredded, and the distant sound of keyboards typing manifests itself in the gloomy mid-afternoon.

Terry Johnson is an infamous blue collar worker, who all day for 15 years has filed things, sorted things, copied things, filed the copied things and refiled whatever sorted things that have been filed and copied. Today was no different. He was copying a file (of which he had yet to sort) when he felt the need to use the john. It was no big deal, he had used the office lavatory before. It is at this point we find Terry, and his story, "On the John".

edit Scene 1

Terry: Carlyle, cover for me, I'll be right back.

Carlyle: Aye. T'is owlways th'scotsman doin' th'grunt work 'round 'ere.

Terry: Hehe. Oh Carlyle and your stereotypical accent. Where was I? Oh right, to the can.

Boss: Johnson! Where do you think your going? There are copies to be copied and files to be filed!

Terry: (Nervous) Oh, ah, erm... just uh... y'know going to the... well... I need to poop.

Boss: I see... Well hurry up then! Before the readers discover the pun in your last name.

Terry: Yes sir! Right away sir!

Terry runs off in the direction of the mens room

edit Scene 2

Terry enters the washrooms, there is a dripping sound echoing off the walls from one of the faucets. It's not a very clean room to say the least. There is a slight scent of sour milk in the air. Two shoes of a person are barely visable under one of the stalls. Terry proceeds to enter an adjacent stall.

Terry: (To self) Alright, now to just do my business and get out of here.

Man in other stall: Hey, how ya doing?

Terry: (To self) What the hell? Is he talking to me?

Man in other stall: What's up man?

Terry: Uhm...Fine?

Man in other stall: That's good, how's the wife?

Terry: Erm... Alright I guess...

Man in other stall: Yeah she was like that when I last saw her.

Terry: Excuse me?!

Man in other stall: Yeah, you know it buddy.

Terry: (To self) This is a bit creepy... Who is this guy?

Man in other stall: Anyway, ya wanna hang out some time?

Terry: Sir, do I know you?

Man in other stall: Don't be stupid, how about your house?

Terry: Sir, if you don't mind, I just want to do my business and get out.

Man in other stall: Sorry man, I'm gonna have to call ya back. There's a guy in the other stall answering all my questions.

Terry: ...

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