What's in a title?

[Peter note: I had no idea where this was going when I sat down to start typing. And it likely shows.]


A knocking on the door to apartment 219 echoes down the hallway. Jack, 30s, clad in typical jeans and t-shirt, is the man doing the rap rap rapping.

Marvin (from inside room): Who is it?

Jack: Who do you think it is? How many people did you call at 4 am??

Marvin (opening door): Sorry, dude. Had to be careful. Come in.

Marvin is roughly the same age and wearing the same type of attire. Except he is wearing a Hilary Duff concert t-shirt. It’s best not to ask why.

Jack: What’s going on?


The place is a complete mess. It looks like Tommy Lee has been in here partying with some… cheetahs. And not normal, every day cheetahs. The Tommy Lees of the cheetah world.

Jack: What did you use to tidy this place up? A hand grenade?

Marvin: I have something to show you in the bathroom.

Jack: I already don’t like where this is going.

Marvin swings a door open wide and Jack just stares in.

Jack: Hmmmm.

Marvin: I know.

Jack: So, you have a dead hooker in your bathroom.

Marvin: Well, a dead highclass call girl, yes.

Jack: Is this really the time for semantics?

Marvin: People have the right to dictate how others refer to their professions!!

Jack: Simmer down.

Marvin: Well, she preferred to be called a highclass call girl.

Jack: She also probably would have preferred not to be rolled up in a rug on the floor of your crapper.

Marvin: Well, you know, if given the choice…

Jack: How did this happen?

Marvin: It’s a long story.

Jack: Give me the main points.

Marvin (lighting a cigarette): Well, we were opening a bottle of champagne.

Jack: To celebrate what?

Marvin: You probably don’t want to know.

Jack: Fair enough.

Marvin: And the cork came shooting out of the bottle–

Jack: You killed her with a fucking cork?

Marvin: No. The cork hit the cat in the ass.

Jack: When did you get a cat?

Marvin: I’m not entirely sure. So, the cat jumped up on the curtains. Next thing you know, the curtain rod is coming crashing down.

Jack: That killed her?

Marvin: Nope, but that swung up and knocked my bowling trophy off the top shelf.

Jack: The one you bought at a yard sale? With the hollowed out bottom for storing weed?

Marvin: Yes, fine.

Jack: So the trophy killed her?

Marvin: Not exactly. The trophy landed on one end of the coffee table.

Jack: Glass killed her?

Marvin: The other end of the coffee table shot up, sending an ashtray flying through the air.

Jack: The ash tray did it?

Marvin (shaking his head): The ash tray hit the ceiling fan, causing one of it’s blades to break off and go hurtling through the air.

Jack gives a hopeful look.

Marvin: Then it stuck right into the wall. However, it was very close to an electrical socket and somehow caused a small fire.

Jack: Please tell me that the fire killed her.

Marvin: Nope.

Jack: Dude… What in the hell killed her?!?

Marvin: Oh, I shot her for trying to steal my wallet.

Jack is speechless, for what seems like minutes.

Jack: How much money was in your wallet.

Marvin: It’s the principle of the thing.

Jack: How much?

Marvin: Eleven bucks.

Jack: I had to get out of bed, to help you de-dead hooker your home for eleven bucks?

Marvin: And my coffee club card was in there too. I buy one more espresso and I get, well, a free espresso.

Jack: Well, as long as it was something important. Let’s go.


Marvin and Jack carry the rug-wrapped body down the stairs. Judging by the protruding stiletto heels, Jack has the feet.

Jack: Is that an adam’s apple?

Marvin: Eeeep.

Marvin drops the head, which hits the railing with a loud metallic *thunk.*

Both men cringe.

Marvin: Wow. That did not sound at all like on WEEKEND AT BERNIE’S.

Jack: Did you “Eeeep?”

Marvin: No.


The guys toss the body in the trunk and quickly close it.


Jack starts the car as Marvin lights a cigarette.

Marvin: What is this? A book on tape?

Jack: Put it down. It’s, uhm, my sister’s.

Marvin: Come on.

Jack: Did I not just get out of bed at 4 am to save your ass?

Marvin: “Bridges of Madison County!” Hahahaha. As read by Roseanne Barr? I gotta hear this.


The guys stare ahead, completely transfixed.

Roseanne Barr: “He wished for the thousandth time in his life that he had a dog, a golden retriever, maybe, for travels like this and to keep him company at home. But he was frequently away, overseas much of the time, and it would not be fair to th
e animal. Still, he thought about it anyway. In a few years he would be getting too old for the hard fieldwork. “I might get a dog then,” he said to the coniferous green rolling by his truck window. ” (Beat.) Dude, get a dog… don’t get a dog. Just shut the fuck up.

Marvin (entranced): Wow.

Jack: I know.


Marvin and Jack take turns digging with a single shovel.

Marvin: Two shovels would have made this go faster.

Jack: So would not shooting whores.

Marvin: Valid point.


The guys walk in, dirty and sweaty. However, the smell of breakfast cooking seems to rejuvinate them. They take a seat nearest to the door.

Marvin (looking at menu): I don’t think I want the crepes. Don’t think I can stomach anything wrapped up at the moment.

Jack: Yeah.

Marvin: What are you in the mood for?

Jack: French toast. Definitely.

Marvin: Good choice. Me too, I think.

Jack: Cool. I’ll get the waitress.

Marvin: Server.

Jack: I’m sorry, what?

Marvin: They’d prefer to be called “servers.”

Jack: Who cares?

Marvin: People have the right to dictate how others refer to their professions!!

0 thoughts on “What's in a title?

  1. Feels kinda like Pulp Fiction meets Reservoir Dogs meets Harold and Kumar. Good stuff, outlandish and entertaining.

  2. James:Thanks, dude. I was talking about dead hookers the other day with a friend and it stuck in my head. Then I had half of an idea for someone taking forever to explain a whacking to another person. They magically combined in my head and…

  3. Marvin: People have the right to dictate how others refer to their professions!!

    Classic! This always seems to be a major source of contention when people cannot agree on how to refer to one another’s jobs. Some people wish to be PC, and others dismiss PC all together. For me and my human pet, we say “Hasta La Vista PC!”

    I especially loved your writing concerning the description of how the hooker died. I love how Marvin and Jack play off of one another, and your cleverly constructed lines make for a very clear picture of what is happening between the two of them.

  4. James stole my comment. Very pulp fiction-esque. Also the funniest thing I’ve read all day. You’re responsible for making me snort.

  5. zeus: Personally I prefer to refer to everyone as a “________ monkey.” Server Monkey… Sex monkey… etc. And thanks for the kind words!

    sara: Thanks to you for the kind words as well. And there is nothing more gratifying than causing a snort. Unless I could cause you to spit some type of liquid on your keyboard. Maybe next time…

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *