2 AM, at the "Loose Lips" strip club in British Columbia, Canada. Pac Man Jones has just returned from the bar with $7,000 in singles. Berbs and Ricky Williams just finished sharing a small marijuana cigarette. Maunela sits, uncomfortable.
(For the purpose of me being lazy, all conversations will be written in script form, and Pac Man Jones will heretofore be referred to as RainMan, Ricky as SnoopRickyRick and I guess I'll just stay Berbs.)
RainMan: CheckItCheckItCheckItCheckItCheckIt, yo listen my man's and 'em wuz wonderin', right--
Berbs: No, Pac Man. We are not running a train on Manuela.
RainMan: Awwww c'mon man! If we ain't gonsta have no fun in Canada, den why da FUCK I'm here, man?!? Ricky, I KNOW you wanna run trIZn-ain on dat ass, am I right?
SnoopRickyRick (head surrounded in what seems to be constant smoke cloud, ala PigPen from Peanuts): Wha-Huh?
RainMan: N****, you useless.
Berbs: C'mon man, let's concentrate here, people are getting foot-capitated out there and--
RainMan: Oh CheckitCheckItCheckItCheckItCheckIt-Watch-wha-I'ma-do...bout to make it RAIN up in this piece!!!
Berbs: Really? Again? I mean, I get it, it looks neat with all the money coming down and everything and I guess the stippers all think you're really cool, but--
Pac Man Jones releases all 7,000 $1 bills into the air, with a precision and grace that is at once awe-inspiring and really sad that he's gotten that good at it. Dollar bills swirl around the entire club, creating a blizzard of currency.
RainMan: Oh SHIT!!! YEEEEEAAAA BOYYYYEEEEEE! Look-a I done did!
Berbs: Pac Man, you ASS, I can't see shit! Ricky, where you at, man?!?
SnoopRickyRick: I'm right here.
Berbs: Pac Man--
RainMan: Fuck rain, I'm makin' it MONSOOOOOOON up-in-dis-bitch!!!
Berbs: Pac Man--
Berbs: ADAM JONES!!!
The club goes silent. Suddenly and inexplicably, the dollar bills abandon their slow, graceful glide downward and plummet as if they were made of lead.
RainMan: Why you gotta fuckin' harsh my mellow, n****?!? Damn. My mama don't even call me Adam no more.
Berbs: Listen! We don't know how much time we have until this creep strikes again, and we have another foot washing up on the-- hold on...where's Manuela?
Berbs: What?!? Ricky, did you see--Holy shit!
Berbs: You're feet!
SnoopRickyRick: Maaaan, you be trippin' when get like-- HOLY SHIT MAH FUCKIN FEETS!!! WHERE DA FUCK MY FEETS IS AT?!? AAAAAAHHHH MY FEEEEEEETS!!!
TO BE CONTINUED...AGAIN...