Chapter Two
Grantaire: *slumped on a barstool* Another shot of brandy, and make it quick. God, have you been watering the wine or something? I've been drinking for half an hour straight and I'm still sober!
Bartender: Don't you think you've had enough, sir?
Grantaire: *seizes him by the collar* Don't make me hurt you
Bartender: *hastily obeys* Okay, okay…
Grantaire: *swallows the glass in one gulp* More
Bartender: I hope you're not planning to drive like this?
Grantaire: No. I never drive *shrug* But even if I did, I'm sure the horses would be able to figure out where to go without me.
Bartender: *raises an eyebrow* Are you sure you're still sober?
Grantaire: *pauses to check his vision* Yes. Now, hurry up!
Bartender: *sigh* Well, before you pass out, could you at least pay your bill?
Grantaire: Yeah, yeah, yeah…*fumbles in his pocket* How much--three francs? Four francs? *hands him the money* Here you are--keep the change.
Bartender: *staring down at the nineteenth-century French coins in his hand* Is this a joke?
Grantaire: *is engrossed in a vision of dancing pink elephants and can no longer hear him*
Bartender: All right, that's it…*grabs him by the belt and drags him outside* And don't come back!
Grantaire: *face down in the gutter* Mmm, this gutter must be a newer model. This concrete really soaks up the impact when I land. And the skid factor is virtually non-existent *staggers to his feet and finds a young lady standing over him*
Lady: *looks him over* Are you okay?
Grantaire: *snort* Other than a concussion and a slight case of alcohol poisoning, yeah
Lady: My name is Penelope Hickenlooper. What's yours?
Grantaire: That depends. Are you with that bill collection agency?
Penelope: No *shakes her head sadly* You know, I used to be just like you. Sleeping in the gutter, spending all my money on alcohol, getting stoned and going off into mind-numbing tirades about dead Greeks…
Grantaire: Hey, the green faeries happen to find my tirades entertaining!
Penelope: …But then, I heard a voice
Grantaire: *eyeroll* Oh, merde…
Penelope: Come, come and hear!
Grantaire: That's the biggest heap of drivel I've ever heard in my life, and I listen to Enjolras every night
Penelope: Well!
Grantaire: But you're hot, so I'll come anyway.
Meanwhile, somewhere across town…
Jean Valjean: Come along, Cosette. We've got to find a church!
Cosette: Why?
Jean Valjean: To ask forgiveness for whatever we did wrong, of course! Obviously, God has sent us on this journey into the future as a punishment for our sins.
Cosette: *hits her head against a wall…repeatedly* Daddy, how many times do I have to tell you? Not every evil in this world is a divine rebuke directed at you. I mean, come on. All you did was steal forty sous and a piece of bread.
Jean Valjean: *gaping* How did you know about that?
Cosette: I read it in your diary. *pulls a book out of her pocket* It was kind of hard to avoid--you left it right out in the garden where any innocent bystander could have come along and opened it up, assuming that it was a clandestine message from her secret boyfriend.
Valjean: *sniffle* It's not a diary--It's a journal
Cosette: *sigh* Don't worry, Daddy--it's not like there was anything interesting in there anyway. *opens the book and reads* May 15th, 1832...How wretched I am… May 16th, 1832...How wretched I am… May 17th, 1832...Today I saw a caterpillar…May 18th, 1832, How wretched I am…
Valjean: Give me that!
Cosette: Why should I? You snoop in mine all the time.
Valjean: That's ridiculous. You change your hiding place so often I can almost never find it
Cosette: Grr! *tosses the book at him*
Valjean: Look! There's a priest! He'll know what to do!
He points at none other than Brother Zaurak Triangulum, running down the street with an enraged Enjolras at his heels
Enjolras: *his carbine held over his head* Allons enfants de la Patrie! Le jour de gloire est arrivé!
Triangulum: *looking very frightened and out of breath* Man, next time I need cash, I'll just play it safe and run a telemarketing scam!
Cosette: *Uh…he seems to be busy
Valjean: Keep looking, then. We've got to find someone to absolve our sins before it's too late
Cosette: Daddy, for the last time, nobody cares about your little sins
Valjean: Well, maybe it's your sins, then!
Cosette: My sins!
Valjean: Well, if it's not mine, then yours must be causing the problem.
Cosette: Nonsense! I'm perfect--Marius says so all the time.
Valjean: *frown* Marius? Who's Marius?
Cosette: *trying to think up a story* Uh…I--uh… *bolts in the opposite direction* Bye!
Valjean: Cosette! Get back over…*sighs miserably* Well, now what am I gonna do? Oh, how wretched I am!
A real priest taps him on the shoulder
Priest: Are you okay, man?
Valjean: Praise le bon Dieu! *kneels before the priest* Could you please absolve me of my sins? I've learned my lesson, honest!
Priest: Huh?
Valjean: Could you be quick about it? I really need to get back home
Priest: Well, I'd be happy to give you a lift. Where do you live?
Valjean: Fifty-four Rue Plumet
Priest: *confused* Rue Plumet? I don't think I know where that is.
Valjean: Of course not--it's in Paris
Priest: My, you are a long way from home. Would you like me to help you find an embassy?
Valjean: No, no, I doubt that would help. You see, I'm actually from the year 1832, but apparently God has sent me into the future for some reason.
Priest: *feels his forehead* You don't have a fever. Have you been smoking something funny?
Valjean: Of course not
Priest: Riiiight…well, don't worry. I'll know a place where they'll give you all the help you need.
Valjean: *bows politely* Oh, thank you, kind sir!
Priest: No problem *takes out a cellphone and whispers covertly into it* Hello, Los Angeles Mental Hospital? This is Father Jeff MacGuire. Could you please send an ambulance to the corner of Main and Second Street? Thanks.
A white van with a red cross on it pulls up, and two men in scrubs jump out
Orderly Number One: Right this way, sir.
Valjean: *climbs inside* Thank you, kind sir. This whole ordeal has just--*pause* Wait a minute. What's that horrible clattering sound?
Orderly Number Two: Oh, that's a patient we picked up earlier today. He was really getting on our nerves, so we tossed him in the cupboard for the rest of the ride.
Valjean: What? Are you sure he's got enough air in there? *bends down and opens the cupboard door* Wait a minute…is that…?
Javert: *blink, blink* 24601?
Valjean & Javert: %$#@!
To be continued…again