Family Guy: "Escort Guy"
EXT. GRIFFIN RESIDENCE - NIGHT
Night time at the Griffin house, for about 5 seconds.
INT. GRIFFIN HOUSE - DINING ROOM
Dinner at the Griffin house.
PETER: So, what did you do today, Chris?
CHRIS: I worked an 8-hour day at the record store.
PETER: Uh-huh. So, nothing.
CHRIS: It's not "nothing"! 40 hours a week is plenty.
PETER: Chris . . . we need to talk. Your girlfriend is without a job right now, right?
CHRIS: Right. She's been looking for one.
PETER: Right. Well, that's where I may be able to help. I can get your girlfriend a job, working as a secretary in my business!
CHRIS: Really?
Some thought bubbles appear over Chris' head. He remembers the interior of an office.
CHRIS: I remember the last few jobs you had . . .
He remembers the interior of the toy factory.
The thought bubble then shows George Washington fighting two red and blue robots.
CHRIS: Sounds pretty good!
PETER: Yep! It just so happens I need a new secretary at my . . . office. She'll make a lot of money.
CHRIS: Wow! Thanks, Dad! I promise, Kenzi is really fast at typing.
PETER: Uh-huh.
CHRIS: She has a typing speed of over 70 words per minute - which, as you know, is pretty fast, for keyboards.
PETER: Uh-huh. Yeah, that's . . . that's not really necessary.
CHRIS: . . . Really? All right! Thanks, Dad!
Smiling, Chris high-fives Peter.
INT. QUAHOG, RHODE ISLAND - MAIN STREET
Chris looks up, checking his rearview mirror before driving.
As he drives on, he deals with little traffic.
Soon enough, the traffic light ahead goes from green to yellow, and to red.
Chris applies his foot to the brakes, and the car comes to a sudden stop.
Chris must now wait at the red light. The seconds go on. Chris sighs, and drums his fingers against the dashboard, but still the wait goes on.
Out the window, he sees a homeless woman, holding a sign reading: "HOMELESS AND HUNGRY".
Chris pulls over, toward the woman.
Soon, on foot, Chris follows the woman, attempting to flag her down for attention.
CHRIS: Hey! Uhhh, excuse me!
The woman just walks on. So Chris follows her a little more.
CHRIS: Uhh. Excuse me. My Dad may be able to offer you a job, as a secretary!
WOMAN: Really?
CHRIS: Really. I promise, it's nothing weird. Do you want me to give you his number?
WOMAN: Sure!
INT. CAR - FRONT SEAT - SOON
Chris is talking on the phone, on speakerphone on his lap, with Peter.
CHRIS: Hey, Dad! Guess what?
PETER: What is it now, boy?
CHRIS: I found some random homeless lady, who was homeless and starving, and I said she might be able to get a job with you, as a secretary!
PETER: Hey! That's fantastic! I always do need more secretaries. Good work, Chris! You barely even realize what you have done.
Chris hangs up the phone, and drives on, smiling.
EXT. GRIFFIN HOME - EVENING
The sky is just starting to set over the Griffin home.
INT. GRIFFIN HOME - KITCHEN
CHRIS: So, Dad. Ever since you lost your last job, where's the new office?
PETER: It's . . . around.
CHRIS: Around . . . where, I'm wondering?
PETER: Uhhh, it's at the hotel. Don't worry about it.
CHRIS: It's . . . near the hotel?
PETER: It's AT the hotel, it's . . . it's IN the hotel. Chris, it's an escort service.
CHRIS: It's . . . what?
PETER: You heard me! It's an escort service.
CHRIS: Escort service? What's that?
Peter sighs, rolling his eyes.
PETER: Oh, come on, Chris. Don't act like you don't know what an escort service is.
Peter goes back to munching away on his cereal with milk.
CHRIS: But . . . I don't! I've never really known anyone to be in one before.
PETER: Pff. Sure. Okay. Chris, just to sarcastically explain something that everybody already knows, THIS is how the escort business works.
EXT. HOTEL - DAY
An attractive woman wearing a slutty black dress and high heels walks, hooker-like, across the outside of a hotel, walking inside with her client, a man in his late 40's.
A circle pops up with Peter Griffin inside.
PETER: An escort service sometimes takes place in a hotel. A room is rented out. Rooms usually cost at least $100 for one day, but they're used to generate money. If the girl has seen one client, then she has more than recooperated the cost of the room.
EXT. SUBURBAN HOUSE - DAY
Outside a very big, expensive house, a car pulls up to the driveway.
A client steps out of the car, and heads to the door. He knocks on it.
The hooker, wearing all pink lingerie, opens the door.
CLIENT: Hello! Are you "Miss Helga"?
HOOKER: Shut up, bitch!
He walks inside, and she slams the door shut.
Peter Griffin pops back up in his bubble.
PETER: It often looks like THAT. If it's not a hotel, it's a house. Sometimes there's a person living inside the house. Other times, the entire house is rented just for this. And believe me when I tell you, a LOT of money is made this way. Way more money than your . . . your fast-food janitor job, your record store cashier job.
Peter's bubble grows larger, to encompass the entire screen, bringing us back to:
INT. GRIFFIN HOUSE - DINING ROOM
Proudly, smiling, Peter Griffin has his hands folded over his chest while talking to Chris.
PETER: And that's how I went from being the poor, struggling fool you knew, to the strong, solid, supportive man I am today. I used to have not enough money to afford bread. Now I just spent $3,000 on candles and shoes. You have got to admit, this is pretty clever.
CHRIS: No! It is not clever! It . . . I . . . I mean . . . it . . . kind of is clever.
Dad, you mean, this is real? I can just . . . go to a house? And there's a woman in there who's just there to be hot, as her job? And I can pay money, and get a massage, and . . . "something, something, something", wink, wink?
PETER: YES! NOW you're getting it! NOW you're speaking Griffin language!
CHRIS: This . . . I can do this? What about for free?
PETER: NO, NOT FOR FREE. You work for money, and money is made by working. The girls are not free. For them to touch you costs money.
CHRIS: Like, how much?
PETER: At least $200, bare minimum.
CHRIS: This . . . is kind of clever. How did you come up with this?
PETER: You know, I . . . don't remember! It just . . . IS, this way!
CHRIS: But Dad, this is . . . degrading to women!
PETER: Is that so? It's their choice. They choose what lingerie to buy. They choose how to do their own hair. They choose to come to me looking for work.
CHRIS: Really? But, still. These women are being . . . baited! I mean . . . I guess not . . . I guess it's the men spending hundreds of dollars, and it's the women getting the money. But, still! This isn't right!
PETER: You will not be the judge of what's right or wrong, Chris. You work at a record store, and only recently graduated college. Your words mean nothing to anyone. These girls, however. They have big boobs. They'll do just fine in life.
CHRIS: Okay, so I guess this biz is not the Devil after all. But, still! Dad, I promised some homeless lady I could help her get a job! A real job, as a secretary! And I only said that to her, because I thought you really had a typing job lined up! I never would have said it to her, had I known this!
PETER: Chris, you just don't seem to get it. When I said "secretary", I meant "massage girl". That's how the world works. Now. I need a new one of these "secretaries", and your new girlfriend fits the bill. She can start Monday, she'll do happy ending massages, and hot wax, that is, her pouring the hot wax on the client's body. The clients love hot wax, they go crazy or it. Also, toes. Heels. Feet - feet area in general.
CHRIS: What? No! She's not like that. My girlfriend's not like that! She would never do an escort -
PETER: It's not up to you, Chris. Your girlfriend WILL be doing it. Then, you'll be getting money.
CHRIS: I don't want money THAT bad, Dad. I'll just take my chances with my record store job.
PETER: OH, PLEASE, Chris! A record store job? You gotta be kidding me! That's never gonna get you anywhere in life. No. You need to start taking part in a REAL job. A REAL job. Observe.
INT. BROTHEL HOUSE - BEDROOM
A beautiful brown-haired woman is laying on her side on a bed, covered in $1,000 of expensive red blankets and pillows, wearing sexy lingerie.
Peter Griffin pops up in a bubble again, and points toward the lady.
PETER: Now THAT is a real job, young man.
INT. GRIFFIN HOUSE - DINING ROOM
PETER: Of course, I wouldn't expect YOU to know anything about work. You've never worked real jobs yet. You know nothing about the work field.
CHRIS: But Dad, I work 40 hours a week at the record store!
PETER: So? So what? You think anyone cares? Nobody cares about a record store job! That's not a REAL job. Not like that lady in lingerie in the bedroom. Guarantee she makes five times what you make at your . . . pfff, "record store" job.
CHRIS: Dad, I am not letting my girlfriend be involved in your escort service, ever!
PETER: I'm confused. Then whose escort service?
CHRIS: None! Nobody's! She's not the type of woman that would work in a brothel. Not every woman on Earth is like your . . . your hookers in lingerie!
PETER: Okay. I can see you're not gonna do this the easy way. Chris, if you don't do this, I will cut you out of the family entirely. For as long as your time on Earth remains, you will not be Chris Griffin anymore. You'll just be Chris, who has no last name - and no family. You'll just be that kid with no family that no one knows where he came from. Is that what you want? Hmm?
CHRIS: Dad, why is this so important? Why is it such a big deal to you?
PETER: Because YOU were working at a record store, and you need to learn that that is NOT okay. That's why.
CHRIS: DAD, THESE GIRLS ARE HOOKERS! Nothing but thinly-disguised, barely-dressed hookers! If I ever have kids, I would NEVER want my daughter doing this kind of work!
Peter is silent for 5 seconds, just too shocked to know what to say back.
Then he SLAPS Chris, really hard and really loud, leaving a pink hand mark on his cheek! For the next 10 seconds, we continue to hear the ringing in Chris' ears, which slowly fades away.
PETER: How . . . DARE you take that tone about my escorts! I don't really care about me, I've really let myself go. But my women are PROFESSIONAL escorts. They are HARD-working entrepreneurs, who are WILLING to do oral for an extra $50 after the massage, and you have NO right to be judging them!
CHRIS: Dad, I mean, I'm just saying -
PETER: BUT NOTHING! Your girlfriend is going to be in this escort service even if it kills me. Good day, Chris!
Angrily, Peter walks away, and SLAMS the door shut behind him.
CHRIS: Gee, Rocket Raccoon, I'm sorry you had to see all that.
ROCKET RACCOON: Oh, sure, attach MY name to things, just so you assholes can get ratings. Jeez. I'm gonna go to the bar.
Rocket Raccoon leaps out the window.
EXT. CLAM BAR - NIGHT
Another night at the bar.
INT. CLAM BAR
Peter, Joe, and Quagmire are all sitting around the table.
PETER: Jeez, so get this, guys. My son, Chris? He works at a record store. A record store! Selling music! I mean . . . how pa-thetic is that?
Joe and Quagmire murmur back and forth.
JOE: Well, that's not so bad . . .QUAGMIRE: No! A record store? That's no good.
PETER: And this escort service that I run - he has not done ANYthing yet for it! Anything! He's not been a driver, a manager, anything! And these girls are all so nice!
QUAGMIRE: That no-good deadbeat!
JOE: Well, hold on, Peter - nice or not, an escort service is still against the law. I'm afraid I'm gonna have to disgaree with you on this one. You should not be telling Chris to work at an escort service over his record store job.
PETER: Uhhh, Joe? A record store is NOT a real job.
Over Joe and Quagmire's heads, the words AGAINST and FOR write themselves over white squares.
Underneath those words: the written names JOE and QUAGMIRE.
PETER: Jeez, one for, one against. I need a tie-breaker. What would Cleveland say if he was here?
CLEVELAND: Heeey, hey, hey!
PETER: Whaaa?
Peter walks over and opens up a cupboard door, revealing Cleveland's face!
CLEVELAND: Hey, y'all! I was just in town to buy towels. But then I ended up feeling depressed and playing baseball instead.
PETER: Yeah, you guys forgot, he used to be that random guy, saying random things, in Season One.
CLEVELAND: You shouldn't put your son into the escort business, Peter.
PETER: Shut up. Your opinion is now disqualified. You have a history.
Peter closes the door back shut.
EXT. GRIFFIN HOUSE - NIGHT
Peter pulls into the driveway.
INT. GRIFFIN HOUSE - KITCHEN
PETER: Chris, I've figured it out. Your girlfriend will work for me, as a massage girl, and that's final.
CHRIS: But, Dad -
PETER: Nope. Nope. No buts. Don't wanna hear it, young man. You need to learn about REAL work. You need to learn about escorts.
CHRIS: Dad, you CAN'T mean this!
PETER: Don't wanna hear it! I don't wanna hear it! It's nothing but excuses from you, as to why YOU think you're entitled to just . . . have it all, for free!
CHRIS: Dad, I graduated college so that I could get a good job! I did not graduate college just to end up in an escort service!
PETER: Chris, an escort service is exactly the higher calling in life that a college degree was meant to prepare you for. Don't you see how it all ties in? Of course not, I forgot, you're retarded.
CHRIS: Come on, Dad. I worked 40 hours a week, the whole time I went to college -
PETER: I don't care. I don't care. If you're not a part of this escort service, you are HOMELESS. You hear me? HOMELESS. Like that lady you found on the sidewalk. Hey, maybe you two could hold up a sign together, you're gonna need a sign, when you're homeless.
Peter leaves, and Chris sags his head, upset.
Brian enters.
BRIAN: Hey, buddy.
CHRIS: (still upset) Hey . . .
BRIAN: Everything all right?
CHRIS: Yeah. I guess. It's just . . . the stress of having to agree to this whole escort service, or else lose my house AND my family. This is not what I got my degree for - just to have everything I say silenced by Dad, because I'm not a girl in lingerie.
BRIAN: I understand. As a dog, I've got plenty of stress in my life. Plenty. Like . . . sometimes, I'm not even sure when my walk is gonna be. Or how fast I'm gonna get my food. You know? It can be pretty stressful to be a dog.
CHRIS: I just hate that feeling, like Dad's not gonna stop trying to convert Kenzie. He's always trying to convert people.
INT. MCDONALD'S FAST-FOOD RESTAURANT - SOON
CASHIER: Hello. Welcome to McDonald's. What are you having?
PETER: Oh. I see your name tag says "Joanne". Heh. So that's your "stage name", right? (wink)
CASHIER: Ummm . . . what are you having to eat?
PETER: Now, I'm sure you've already done this before, but - I run a business, see, where "secretaries" make appointments all day. Appointments with clients. You know the kind I'm talking about. (wink)
CASHIER: Sir, you haven't ordered any food or drink yet.
PETER: Oh, yes. Right. Uhhh - I'll have a "nuggets and fries, with a drink". Heh. You know - little cover story.
CASHIER: Nuggets, fries, and a drink. Right. I'll make that a combo.
PETER: Heh! Good one! Anyway. If you want to switch your massage business to me, instead, I guarantee you I'll make you more money than the other guy. Plus, my girls only have a payout of 40%. Most managers keep 50%. I keep only 40%, so YOU end up with more of your income, if you switch to me instead.
CASHIER: I . . . don't understand what you're talking about. Please move along, so I can serve the next customer. Hi! Welcome to McDonald's!
PETER: Oh, wait, wait. One more thing. In my business, it's usually outcalls. That's the thing. It's outcalls. It's not in-calls. I'll just need a photo of you, no shirt, no pants, but also no nudity. ABSOLUTELY NO NUDITY. Oh, and a black square over your face. That's necessary.
CASHIER: What?
PETER: Also, little tip? Iif you're gonna be in this biz, honey, you're gonna NEED a work phone. Otherwise, these guys are PSY-CHO, they will be stalking you and calling you on your private phone non-stop. I pay the phone bills, so, if you think you're gonna just disconnect from me, and run off, think again. I'll cut off your phone.
CASHIER: And here's your food.
PETER: What the Hell you talking about, "food"? I don't want food.
CASHIER: Sir, you just ordered -
PETER: Read, between, the lines! I was just SAYING I wanted food, to establish a cover story! Jeez! Anyway. You start Monday. Be there at 9 a.m. DON'T be late.
He walks away, leaving the cooked food uneaten, and the cashier baffled.
EXT. MOSTON BARKET BUILDING - SOON
Peter's car pulls up to a parking space in front of Moston Barket.
INT. MCDONALD'S - SOON
Peter is seated at a table with Chris' girlfriend.
PETER: All right, Chris' girlfriend, now I can tell you the REAL reason we're here.
You see, my son, Chris, is just . . . young, and stupid. He doesn't know how the world works. He thinks, just because he has a college degree in Psychology, that somehow he is going to make it in the world. But he's wrong. Now, as a massage girl, you can start on Monday. I'll just need some photos with your face blocked out with a black square, and we can get you set up with a stage name and start making outcalls. Remember, 40% goes to me.
KENZIE: Wait. Wait. What?
PETER: You know. Aren't you planning on becoming a massage girl, who gives happy ending bodyrubs for $200 per session, without my son Chris knowing or finding out his whole life?
KENZIE: Excuse me? What kind of girl do you think I am? I wouldn't do . . . happy endings!
Peter laughs.
PETER: Okay, okay, I get it. I know. Cover story. But, come on. Let's get serious. We can go lingerie shopping on Sunday. You can come up with a stage name. Maybe: Sexola.
KENZIE: Uhhh, excuse me? I would never do anything like this! Mr. Griffin, you said you had an offer for me as a secretary - as in, typing things! You never said -
PETER: Okay, READ, BETWEEN, THE LINES.
As Peter talks, black lines are drawn, with white text inside. Between those lines are blue words.
SECRETARY
Touches Men
LOTS OF MEN GOING IN AND OUT OF HOUSE
Men Pay Money To Be Touched By Girls
LOTS OF MONEY COMES IN.
PETER: Think of it like this. It's like being a stripper, except you're touching the guys for cash. And THAT is how things work in the Griffin family.
Kenzie stands still, just shocked, frozen, for several seconds.
PETER: Remember, Chris does not have to know about this. Now, try to bring at least three clients a day over, to my house. Always MEN. Just bring them in, and tell Chris it's . . . uhhh . . . the plumber. Or the electrician. He's a dumb kid, he'll believe it. Then, you end up making money! Remember, I get 40% of it, and DON'T you stiff me of my money like my last two girls!
KENZIE: I can't believe you would say all of this to me - to your own son's girlfriend!
PETER: Well, you can agree not to tell Chris about anything, right?
KENZIE: Agree not to tell Chris anything? I'm dating your son.
PETER: But YOU AGREE not to say a word of this. Right?
KENZIE: . . . Right, Mr. Griffin.
PETER: Right. So you agreed. It is settled, then. You start Monday morning.
KENZIE: What?
PETER: I said, it's agreed: you start Monday morning. You can dress as a cowgirl, or as a schoolgirl, if you like.
KENZIE: Mr. Griffin, for the last time, I am not working for you! Not as a "secretary", not as a "cowgirl", or a "schoolgirl", not as any of these things you keep fantasizing about!
Peter is silent. His mouth opens, wide, as he is just too shocked to know what to say.
PETER: I can't believe this. Girls never say no to this type of stuff. Never. Well that does it, Chris' girlfriend. From this day forward, like Clark Kent and Lex Luthor, we are . . . enemies.
EXT. RUINED SCIENCE LAB - DAY
Teenage Superboy and bald Lex Luthor, feeling his head with both hands now that he's bald, stand outside the wreckage of Lex's science lab.
LEX: Good heavens! I'm bald! BALD! All because of that explosion in the lab that you, clearly, are responsible for! You did this on PURPOSE! You were jealous of me! So you made me go bald! That's it. Now that I'm bald, I'm gonna . . . I'm gonna . . .
Lex's eyes narrow, and we ZOOM IN, while psychotic music plays.
LEX: I'm gonna apply my Ph. D in Science to evil, instead of helping people, and feeding starving countries, like I've been doing so far. Now I'm gonna take over the world, and make them all sorry they laughed at me for being bald! Ahhhhh ha ha ha ha haaaaa!
Lex runs away.
SUPERBOY: So, all bald people are likely to attempt to dominate the world. Got it. But why would he not just . . . take me to court?
LEX: GOT IT!
Lex runs back into the scene, now wearing a green and purple mechanical suit.
LEX: You're right! I SHOULD take you to court!
INT. THE PEOPLE'S COURT - MIDDAY
Music plays. Doo-doo-doo . . . ta-ta, ta-ta, ta-ta, ta-ta . . . doo-doo, DOO, doo-doo . . .
VOICE: The People's Court!
VOICE: Today's case: the plaintiff, Lex Luthor, alleges that costumed superhero Superboy made him go bald on purpose, by causing a fire and explosion in his science lab. Lex Luthor's 200 IQ cannot see around this, nor help him find a way to move on or cope.
Superboy has his arms folded, looking furious, looking away.
A caption reads: "CLAIMS THE FIRE WAS NOT HIS FAULT".
VOICE: The defendant, Superboy, who's really Clark Kent, claims the fire was "not his fault", for he blew on the fire attempting to put it OUT, not to spread it out, to those chemicals.
SUPERBOY: Come on! You guys really . . . whoof . . . you all really believe I would just - betray my own friend like that? Make him go bald on purpose? I did not cause that explosion!
LEX: Admit it! You did! You were jealous of my red hair!
Superboy sags his head in shame.
SUPERBOY: Yeah, I . . . I admit it. I was. I was kind of jealous of his red hair. I did start that fire.
The crowd begins to gasp, flashing photos quickly.
INT. GRIFFIN HOUSE - LIVING ROOM
Chris is sitting on the couch, firing away with a video-game. Brian is sitting next to him. Pow! Pow! Pow! The sound effects are constantly firing away.
BRIAN: Wow. This game's graphics are pretty incredible.
CUT TO a shot of the game, which is live-action, filmed in an actual backyard, the main character sneaking through the grass, crawling. Looking around, the main character looks at his own hands, revealing photorealism.
BRIAN: Huh. Hey, I gotta take a leak. I'll be back in 30 minutes.
Brian walks away.
EXT. GRIFFIN HOUSE - MAP-VIEW
Seeing the entire area around the Griffin house for 200 feet, from an aerial angle, we watch as Brian runs from yard to yard, to yard, from one bush to another. Brian pees in 8 places, one at a time.
BRIAN: Yep. Pee here. Hmm. Let's see. Nothing here . . . nothing here . . . HEL-lo! I smell doggie! Oh yeah! (sniff, sniff) Oh, yeah, oh yeah! Let's see! Let's see! Lift up . . . pee right here! Ha ha!
Brian runs along on all fours.
BRIAN: This is awesome! This is so cool! Pee right here. And pee right there.
INT. GRIFFIN HOUSE - LIVING ROOM
Brian opens the door and comes back inside.
BRIAN: Hey. How long was I out?
CHRIS: 35 minutes. I've stopped playing my video-game. (yaaaawn) I think I'm gonna go to bed early. Night, Stewie!
STEWIE: Yes, late afternoon, Christopher.
EXT. GRIFFIN HOUSE - THE NEXT MORNING
Peter Griffin's car pulls up to the driveway. Peter and a woman step out, reaching the front door.
INT. GRIFFIN HOME - LIVING ROOM
PETER: Hey everyone, meet the newest member of the Griffin family, Kelly Dominatrix!
Blonde-haired Kelly Dominatrix, dressed in all black leather, shows up, smiling, with a whip.
KELLY: Shut up, bitch!
She hits Peter with a whip, three times in a row.
PETER: Unlike my deadbeat son, Kelly knows how to make real money. Enough to make rent, electric, and more. So, she's going to be the new massage girl!
Peter puts his face deeply into Chris'.
PETER: AND DON'T! YOU! SCREW THIS UP! LIKE ALWAYS!
Standing back up, he returns to Kelly's side.
PETER: You are to treat her like your master. You will obey what she says, and that is final. Remember. She's not working for the Griffins. The Griffins are working for her.
CHRIS: Mom, this is terrible! Something has to be done to stop this!
LOIS: I know, Chris, sweetie, I know it's terrible! Just . . . try to remember that it's only bodyrubs and technically not sexual acts unless they spend an extra -
Chris grabs his ears.
CHRIS: STOP IT! Come on! I don't wanna hear this, Mom!
LOIS: But sweetie, I'm just saying, all she does is whips and chains -
CHRIS: STOP IT! STOP IT! Why can't we talk about space aliens? Or government experiments? Or NORMAL people things? Why do you guys ALWAYS have to be in your sex-talk mode ALL the time of EVERY day? You guys are being just like that guy, Quagmire, from that TV show!
QUAGMIRE: (through the window) Oh, thanks. Thanks a lot, Chris. That makes me feel great.
CHRIS: Can't there be a day where we live like normal people?
PETER: Chris, you are never seeing your friends again. Never. They are the problem.
CHRIS: Ohhh, I can't take this. I can't take this family anymore! I can't take it anymore.
PETER: Chris, you will HAVE to take it. Because YOU are the manager now. You collect 40% from Kelly at the end of every day.
CHRIS: All right. Well. This will be the first day.
PETER: I just know you're somehow gonna screw this up.
INT. GRIFFIN HOME - LIVING ROOM - SOON
Kelly walks around the living room with Peter.
KELLY: Okay, now, THOSE ugly paintings have GOT to go. I'm thinking some Marilyn Monroe posters. Get the WHOLE place cleared out, maybe a penis statue over there. ALL of this stuff in this living room, these . . . DVDs . . . video-games . . . this is a ****ing joke! It has to be gone! This is NOT how you run a brothel!
PETER: Yes, yes. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
KELLY: Comic books in sight, right here in the living room? That's a joke. That HAS to go.
CHRIS: Well, I mean, I live here -
PETER: CHRIS! STOP TALKING! STOP TALKING! STOP TALKING! STOP TALKING!
Chris stops. Peter is red in the face now.
CHRIS: Dad, relax, I didn't do anything.
PETER: I SAID STOP! I SAID STOP! I SAID STOP! I'm sorry, Kelly. I'm SO sorry about my son. Here, let me take the little KID outside so us ADULTS can talk.
Peter walks Chris, by the back of his neck, to the backyard.
INT. GRIFFIN HOME - BACKYARD
Chris remains locked out in the backyard while Peter and Kelly talk.
KELLY: Yeah, that TV set has GOT to get out of here. People are supposed to think nobody lives here. This whole house is supposed to be like a spaaaa.
PETER: I wonder how many of you guys's daughters I could convince to join this biz.
INT. GRIFFIN HOME - HALLWAY
PETER: Here you go, Kelly! My beautiful queen! You can use my son Chris' room. We'll just get a massage table set up, and you can get started right away.
KELLY: Uhhh, Peter? If you expect me to work here, I canNOT put up with these conditions. I CANNOT. There were comic books in the living room, video-games visible. It looks like some KID lives here. I can't take this anymore.
PETER: I understand. I understand. Please forgive me!
KELLY: You can't be doing this to me, Peter! You CAN'T!
PETER: Listen, bitch, I'll cut off your phone if you keep taking this tone with me!
Silence, for three seconds.
PETER: Bitch! You want that? You want your phone off? Huh? Cause I'll do it!
CHRIS: Dad, stop it. You're taking everything out on -
PETER: Shut up, Chris! Now, Kelly: stop being such a dumb bitch, and start making me some money.
KELLY: (thinking) Well, now I'm not paying him a CENT. Or his loser kid.
PETER: Chris. When the clients get here, YOU are to be OUT of the house. You'll be locked out for a few hours. 7 days a week, forever. And you BETTER do as I say!
Riiiing! His phone goes off.
PETER: Yello!
Another hooker in sexy lingerie pops up in a bubble, yelling at Peter.
HOOKER: I said I wanted cigarettes AND a new car, you stupid moron! Are you mentally retarded?
PETER: Lindsay, look, I'm in the middle of something -
HOOKER: No! I don't care! I'm a woman, you drop everything you're doing, and you do what I say! And that's how this biz works!
PETER: Bitch, I'll tell you how it works, how it works is I'll cut off your phone! I will **** things up for you! You hear me? You and Kelly, you're both the same, I'll cut off both your phones!
CHRIS: 7 days a week? No thanks, I'd sooner kill myself.
Peter walks away, yelling into his cell phone.
PETER: Shut the Hell up, Linsday! Wait. I've got Carolyn calling. Yello?
. . . SHUT THE HELL UP, CAROLYN! I don't wanna hear it!
Peter SLAMS the door shut behind him.
CHRIS: Talk about a job that's mentally unhealthy for whoever's involved in it.
He touches his ear, and turns his head, revealing a large white earpiece and headset.
CHRIS: Oh! Wait! Folks, I've just been told we're out of time, and are going to cut to our first commercial break for the day. If you're taping this with a VCR, press Pause . . . now.
BLACK. END OF ACT ONE.