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Rated: 18+ · Script/Play · Comedy · #1249314
A worthless father takes his son to school and ends up in a high-speed chase.
Mr. Asshole is shown smoking a cigarette and drinking from his flask.  His elbow loosely controlling the steering wheel.  His son sits beside him looking tired as he rubs his eyes and yawns.  Suddenly police sirens are heard and Mr. Asshole begins to panic, sweating and thrashing his hands on the steering wheel violently.


Mr. Asshole - FUCK!  FUCK!  Son hold this flask for dad.  The police are trying to stop you from getting to school again.

Rufus takes the flask and hides it under the seat quickly.

Rufus - Okay dad.

Mr. Asshole - Now remember, cops are bad son.  They only want to cause trouble and steal your drugs, so make sure you never pull over.  If they catch you, lie!  Making up a fake name is vital.

Rufus - Can I have a fake name dad? 

Mr. Asshole - Yes, son.  Your fake name for the day will be Julio Hernandez.

Rufus - Dad, I’m white.  I think Julio is a Mexican name.

Mr. Asshole - Don’t worry about that son.  When you’re a suspect and the police are after you, they always think you’re either Mexican or Black.  That’s how they’re trained, so you never use a name that makes you sound White.  It makes them suspicious.

Rufus - Wow, that’s really smart dad.  How did you learn that?

Mr. Asshole - Your old man is a police expert.  I’ve had to deal with the police more than Nick Nolte has.

Rufus - Who’s Nick Nolte?

Mr. Asshole - He’s that guy pulled over on the corner taking a breathalyzer...be friendly and wave to him son.

Nick Nolte is shown leaning over the open door of his car vomiting while an officer writes on a tablet beside him.  Rufus waves and smiles.

Rufus - Hi Nick Nolte!  Dad?  Why aren’t we pulling over?

Mr. Asshole - Well...I don’t have a license son.  The police took it from me last year when I crashed through our neighbor's fence on PCP.

Rufus - Which time?

Mr. Asshole - Uh...I don’t know.  How many times did I crash last year?

Rufus - I can't count that high dad.

Mr. Asshole - Okay smartass, how many times did I crash through our neighbor's fence last year?

Rufus - Five, I think.

Mr. Asshole - Really?  Hm...that's better than the year before.  I only took it down three times that year, I’m improving.  Remind me to reward myself for my progress when we get home.

Rufus - Okay dad.  Dad?  How am I going to get to school if the police are chasing us? 

Mr. Asshole - If we can’t lose them, I’ll have to give you another sick note.

Rufus - They’re starting to complain at school.  They say I'm always turning in sick notes.  How many diseases are there?

Mr. Asshole - Have I used the cancer excuse yet?

Rufus - Yes, dad.

Mr. Asshole - Testicular cancer?

Rufus - Yes, dad.

Mr. Asshole - Hm...genital warts?

Rufus - I don’t think so.

Mr. Asshole - See?  There’s always something left.  Don’t worry about it.  You’re getting all the education you need son. 

Rufus - Are you sure dad?

Mr. Asshole - Of course I am son.  I wouldn’t steer you wrong.  I’m trying to teach you how to be a productive member of society and part of being a productive member includes making the police work for their money.  So put your seatbelt on, we’re going to up the ante a bit.

Mr. Asshole steps on the gas, slowly rolling his window down to flip off the police.  Rufus begins to look worried, frequently looking behind them.

Rufus - Dad, I’m not sure this is a good idea.

Mr. Asshole - Who’s the adult here son?  You or me?

Rufus - Well...you are dad.

Mr. Asshole - That’s right.  It’s my job to teach you how to function as an adult.  So pay attention, cause this is a very important lesson.  Ditching the cops...this may save your life someday.

Rufus - What are we going to do dad?

Mr. Asshole - I know one technique that never fails.  I’ve tried it dozens of times.  The doughnut decoy trick, they can’t resist it.

Rufus - What’s the doughnut decoy trick?

Mr. Asshole grins and lights another cigarette.

Mr. Asshole - Son, cops can’t resist doughnuts.  They’ve tried for generations, but nothing seems to work.  They have a doughnut rehab program at every police station, but they just can’t stop themselves.  So we’ll exploit that by driving by as many doughnut shops as we can find.  Eventually, they’ll stop.  They have to.  They are powerless against the doughnut. 

Rufus smiles and eases back into his seat.

Rufus - Wow, my dad is a genius.

Mr. Asshole - That’s right son.  Now reach under that seat and pull out my notepad.  I have all the doughnut shops listed in there.

Rufus pulls out the pad and opens it up.

Mr. Asshole - Well?  Tell me where a doughnut shop is.

Rufus - I don’t know how to read.

Mr. Asshole - Okay, you take the wheel and I’ll read the notepad.

Rufus - I don’t know how to drive.

Mr. Asshole - Do I have to do everything myself?!  Doesn’t your school teach you this stuff?

Rufus - They were teaching us the alphabet.

Mr. Asshole's face becomes red with anger.  He grabs the notepad and throws it out the window, hitting a mime on the sidewalk.

Mr. Asshole - The alphabet!?  I’m going to have a word with your teacher when we get to school.  I’m not kidnaping girl scouts and collecting ransom from their parents, so that you can learn the fucking alphabet!  Don’t they teach you how to rob a bank or anything useful?  You know, so you can better yourself?

Rufus frowns and puts his head down in shame.

Rufus -  No, they were teaching us about numbers and the alphabet.  Do I go to a shitty school?

Mr. Asshole - Who taught you that word!?

Rufus - You did.

Mr. Asshole - Oh...well never mind then.  To answer your question, yes you go to a very shitty school.  We may have to pull you out of school.  I don’t think it’s a safe place for you anymore.

Rufus - Where will I go to school? 

Mr. Asshole - I’ll teach you everything you need to know.  Besides, it’s cheaper and I’m tired of coming home and hearing girl scouts screaming cause they’re locked in the closet.  All they do is cry about their fucking cookies.

Rufus - Okay dad.

Mr. Asshole - Ooh...here’s a doughnut shop.  Watch this son.

The camera pans to a distant shot of Mr. Asshole creeping slowly past a doughnut shop with four police cars behind him.  Two of the cars slam on their breaks in front of the doughnut shop.  The police exit their cars, panting heavily as they run inside for doughnuts.  The camera pans back to Mr. Asshole and his son in the car.

Mr. Asshole - Did you see that son?  Half the police just stopped for doughnuts.  If we can find another shop close by, we’ll be home free. 

Rufus begins rubbing his stomach.

Rufus - I’m getting hungry dad.

Mr. Asshole - Relax, son.  When we get home, I’ll get you another box of girl scout cookies.  We seem to have an endless supply as of late. 

Rufus - Can I have the peanut butter ones?

Mr. Asshole - You sure can son.

Rufus - You’re the best dad! 

Rufus smiles and hugs Mr. Asshole, causing him to swerve the car.

Mr. Asshole - Woah!!!  We don’t hug until after we’ve gotten away son...that just wouldn’t be manly.  Right now we have to focus on the next doughnut shop.  I see one coming up.

Again, the camera pans away to show Mr. Asshole slowly driving by the doughnut shop with two cops trailing.  It quickly snaps to a close-up shot of Mr. Asshole's speedometer which reads "5 MPH", then pans away again.  The last two police cars wreck into each other trying to stop.  The cops get out and run into the doughnut shop.  The camera flashes back inside the car with Mr. Asshole and Rufus.

Mr. Asshole - They just can’t resist.  The slower you drive by, the longer they have to stare at those doughnuts in the window.  They don't stand a chance. 

Rufus smiles and jumps around in his seat.

Rufus - It worked!  I can’t believe it.

Mr. Asshole smiles and pats Rufus on the head.

Mr. Asshole - Of course it worked.  It’s been working for years son.  Now let’s go home and get some of those girl scout cookies.  Tomorrow, I’ll teach you how to scam senior citizens out of their retirement savings.  You can never have too many skills.
© Copyright 2007 Rufus Ruckus (reehabfailure at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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