Disclaimer: I do not own any Kevin Smith characters. Yet.
[The camera fades into the Quick stop counter where Dante is checking inventory, and Randal is reading the paper.]
Randal: [Without looking up from his paper.] Hey Dante, let me borrow the car.
Dante: For what?
Randal: I want to go to the comic convention at the mall today.
Dante: No.
Randal: [Throws his newspaper onto the counter.] Oh c'mon Dante, lighten up.
Dante: No.
Randal: Why not?
Dante: Cause you have a job to do. Speaking of which, shouldn't you have opened the shop up two hours ago?
Randal: [Randal looks at his watch.] Three. You know, I have a very good reason for not doing my job.
Dante: Oh, and why is that? [Dante looks up from his clipboard.]
Randal: Look. [He points to an article in the paper.]
Dante: 'Rebel Forces Bombed in Africa; Thousands of Innocence Die' what does this have to do with you?
Randal: Everything Dante, it has everything to do with me. Let's say someone who works for the NSA comes into the shop, only I don't know he works for them. He rents 'Sluts who lick Monkey Nuts IV' which we carry only one copy of, and let's say on this tape is an encrypted code. Now he takes this secret code, and breaks it, and he is happy with himself, 'cause he did his job well.' But maybe that code was the location of some rebel army in North Africa or the Middle East. Once they have that location, they bomb the village where the rebels were hiding and fifteen hundred people I never had a problem with get killed. Now the politicians are sayin', "Send in the marines to secure the area" 'cause they don't give a shit. It won't be their kid over there, gettin' shot. Just like it wasn't them when their number was called, 'cause they were pullin' a tour in the National Guard. It'll be some guy from Southie takin' shrapnel in the ass. And he comes home to find that the plant he used to work at got exported to the country he just got back from. And the guy who put the shrapnel in his ass got his old job, 'cause he'll work for fifteen cents a day and no bathroom breaks. Meanwhile my buddy from Southie realizes the only reason he was over there was so we could install a government that would sell us oil at a good price. And of course the oil companies used the skirmish to scare up oil prices so they could turn a quick buck. A cute little ancillary benefit for them but it ain't helping my buddy at two-fifty a gallon. And naturally they're takin' their sweet time bringin' the oil back, and maybe even took the liberty of hiring an alcoholic skipper who likes to drink martinis and play slalom with the icebergs, and it ain't too long 'til he hits one, spills the oil and kills all the sea life in the North Atlantic. So my buddy's out of work and he can't afford to drive, so he's got to walk to the job interviews, which sucks 'cause the shrapnel in his ass is givin' him chronic hemorrhoids. And meanwhile he's starvin' 'cause every time he tries to get a bite to eat the only blue plate special they're servin' is North Atlantic scrod with Quaker State. So what do I think? I'm holdin' out for somethin' better. Why not just shoot my buddy, take his job and give it to his sworn enemy, hike up gas prices, bomb a village, club a baby seal, hit the hash pipe and join the National Guard? I could be elected president.
Dante: [Taking the keys out of his pocket.] I'll drive.
[The Camera fades out.]
