We all struggle with our inner demons. A voice that speaks to us and tries to dominate our very existence. For most of us, the voice is just an expression of our conscience or a figment of our imagination. We are able to shut it out and go about our day at peace. Our tortured hero Cam Cameron also has an inner demon. In his case, it's his penis. And like our own inner demons, it talks. But unlike our inner demons, it's not a fictitious product of a stressed out mind. It's real. Very, very real.... ....
Know what I think about sometimes? Killing Randy. Just ramming a fuckin pick-axe right through his head. Fucker’s gonna cost us our job, man. Sincerely. Wish I could strangle him. If only I had arms. But I am just a lowly penis. Cam?
Just ignore it. Just ignore it. Just ignore it.
Hey Cam. Cam? Caaaam….
:sigh: Yes, penis? What is it?
I was thinking.
Yea?
I was thinking maybe we should take a break this week. Fly down to Vegas. Visit that woman with the donkey again. Get in some Blackjack. Whatta ya say? All-you-can-eat breakfast buffet! Ah? Ahh?
You know we can’t do that.
C’mon! It’s called a bye week for a reason. Say “bye-bye” for the week, ya know? Let’s get fucking hammered! Woot!
That’s enough now, really.
Man! You are such a wuss. An uber-wuss. That means Super-wuss in Polish. Er something. Look everybody! I’m a uber-wuss’s penis! Look at me! Look at me! LOOOOOK AT MEEEEE!!!!
Stop it. That’s enough!
Know why I can talk, people? Because I gots the balls!
I said stop it!
That’s right! I can sing too. “Oh solo mio! Cam is a pussy! Watch him punt the ball instead of going for the win!”
Stop!
I can also do a jig. Ah-cha-cha-cha…. Dolphins are gonna go 0-16, yea yea! If I had arms I'd be doing jazz-hands right here. Jazz-hands...
Enough! (punches his crotch) Oomph!
Everything okay in here? What was that ruckus?
N—nothing. I’m f-fine. See? G-get me an ice p-pack…. Uhhh….
This is our chance, Cam! Quick! Pick up your laptop and as soon as he comes back in with the ice, slam it into his head. He’ll never know what hit him. Although knowing that jag-off, you ask for an ice pack, he brings back a tuna salad. C'mon. Pick up the laptop and ---
(picks up laptop and slams it into his crotch) Grrrugh!
I got your ice pa-- Jesus, Cam! What is with you? You look like you're nauseous.
Peni….
What?
Penis…Pen
What?
Dick! DICK! DICK!!!
Well now you’re just being difficult again. Every time there's a break down in our communication, you go shouting out "my penis! my penis!" or call me a dick! Simply childish! I can’t work in these conditions! I need a break. I’m taking the week off! Good-bye! (slams office door)
Well that’s just fucking fantastic. Bet he’s going to Vegas. And we’re stuck here? This blows. Fucking Randy. He’s gonna find some aging hooker and over pay her while she just lays there and does nothing. You watch.
You know. Like he over paid Joey Porter? Oh come on, man! That’s gold!
Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP!
Hey, I know some people in Vegas. They can take care of that contrarian little shit for us. No one ever has to know. Strictly hush-hush. Lots of unmarked graves in the desert. Know whatta mean?
(runs hard and slams crotch into the corner of the office desk, blacks out)
And so it goes for our tortured hero ...
