November 20th, 2012
MEOW!
(Robert sniffs the air)
Joey: Robert, what is it?
Robert: I smell (sniff) something.
Joey: Something?
Robert: No wait. (sniff) I smell...Taco Bell.
Joey: Taco Bell?
Robert: Hold the phone! (sniff sniff sniiiiiiiiiiff) A.T.C.
Joey: Wh-- (Realizing who this person is) Oh no.
Robert: A.
Joey: T?
(The Angry Theatre Critic enters with an entrance...rather angrily with whip and beef burrito in hand. NOTE: This character is a man portrayed by a woman.)
Angry Theatre Critic: C, which stands for crack, which is what I'm about to do with my whip! (Cracks whip)
Joey + Robert: THE ANGRY THEATRE CRITIC! (Hugs each other in fright.)
A.T.C.: Why, hello Joanne and Roberta. Long time, no see, eh? (Eats the rest of her..uh..his beef burrito)
Joey: What do you want, A.T.C? If that IS your real name.
A.T.C.: I must speak to your house manager.
Robert: Cathy's not here as of this--
A.T.C.: I MUST SEE HER NOW. I'VE NOW COMPLETED MY DELICIOUS BEEF BURRITO, SO I AM NOW ASKING POLITELY FOR A WENDY'S FROSTY! FROSTY? (Cracks whip)
(Random usher brings a Wendy's frosty to her...ahem...him, and then leaves in panic. He/she then tastes the frosty.)
A.T.C.: Mmm...cold. Just like me. (Evil Laugh) I kill.
(Cathy enters.)
Cathy: Alright, I heard screaming, what is going o-- (She notices the A.T.C.). You.
A.T.C.: We've got some business to take care of, Bacon.
Cathy: My last name is not Bac--
A.T.C.: IT'S BACON! (Cracks Whip)
Cathy (whimpers): OK. What business?
A.T.C.: Well, I've read the lineup for this upcoming season at the performing arts center. All seem to be very well-chosen events, such as the Shaolin Warriors, the Ballet Folklorico, and Sylvia. What a wonderful bitch. (GASPS from all of the ushers and Kathy) Oh SHUT IT! (Cracks whip.) YOU ALL KNEW I MEANT FEMALE DOG. IT'S IN THE CONTEXT. GOSH, YOU ARE ALL HYPOCRITES! HYPOCRITES, I SAY! BAH! (Brief pause) Anywho...all seem to be perfectly valid. But you seem to be missing one teeny, tiny tim. Do you know who that teeny, tiny tim might possibly be, Bacon?
Cathy: Let me guess...Tiny Tim?
A.T.C.: Oh, you silly girl.
Cathy: I'm a woman, just so you kn--
A.T.C. YOU'RE A SIX-YEAR OLD AND YOU WILL LIKE IT, YOU SILLY GIRL! (Cracks whip.)
Cathy (whimpers again): Justin Bieber?
A.T.C.: Why, how did you guess Baby? (Evil Laugh) I kill.
Robert: No wait, you're kidding, right? Justin Bieber is one of the worst influences in entertainment histor--
A.T.C.: ARE YOU EVEN QUESTIONING THE MAGICAL WONDERS OF JUSTIN BIEBER?
Robert: Sure am! He's nothing more than just a hip-hop wannabe Beatle-Boy.
(As the A.T.C. gets closer and more intimidating, Robert starts to shrink until A.T.C reaches him and pokes him on the shoulder. Robert cries as if there is no tomorrow.)
Joey: Robert, are you alright?!
Robert: Alright??? I'm past the poke of no return! If I get another poke, I'm done for!
Joey (to A.T.C.): How could you? You know that Robert has a psychological disorder called 'DaPoka?' It's highly dangerous!
A.T.C.: EVEN THOUGH I'M THE unpaid ANGRY THEATRE CRITIC, I AM ALSO A CUSTOMER, AND WHEN BACON OVER THERE SAYS THE CUSTOMER IS ALWAYS RIGHT, SHE IS 1,956% CORRECT ALL. OF. THE. TIME! (Cracks whip) Now then, back to business. A metaphorical curse is laid upon you all who work at this dump. One way or another, Justin Bieber will become a part of this upcoming slate of events, and if you do not attempt to retrieve him by the time he is forced to perform, which is, I don't know, the night of October 5th...
Robert: October 5th? That's one week, from now!
A.T.C.: SHUT IT, ROBERTA! I'M HERE TO CREATE PLOT! (Cracks whip as Roberta--er, Robert whimpers.) Anywho, if he does not perform on the night of October 5th, this performing arts environment will recieve a passionately negative review courtesy of yours truly.
Joey: But that's impossible. You can't just write a passionately negative review for something we fail to bring to the line-up of this season's events.
A.T.C.: SILENCE, JOANNE! YOU'RE MESSING UP THE MEAT OF THE STORY! (Cracks whip)
Cathy: And if we do happen to retrieve him?
(A.T.C. laughs hisAHEMher evil laugh)
A.T.C.: Oh, you silly girl. This is reality. Even in the most fantastical of adventures, the nature of reality sets to rise like the evening sun. Ya know, around 9pm.
Cathy: Uh...meaning?
A.T.C.: The odds of retrieving Justin Bieber in Hollywood, a town full of insignificant tots as of this moment, are 927 to 1. And speaking of 927, I might as well get started early with writing the 927th negative review of my career. Enjoy your time at your jobs, ladies (points to Joey and Rob) and...meh...gentleman (points to Cathy), because in more than a week, you'll become nothing more than what you are as of this moment.
Joey: And that would be?
A.T.C.: What else? Human. (Evil laugh) Take care, my foes. (Cracks whip)
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