Rufus walks into a seaside restaurant and sits at the bar; his aunt’s boyfriend Lucky Strike walks over.
Rufus: Hi, Lucky, man am I hungry! I’ve been making artwork all morning on the beach!
Lucky: You’ve been making artwork?
Rufus: Yeah, and I’m super hungry!
Lucky: What does that remind me of? Something Georgiana told me yesterday…
Rufus: How is my aunt Georgiana?
Lucky: I left her sleeping in bed if you know what I mean, hey hey, wink wink.
Rufus: Most people sleep in bed, Lucky.
Lucky: Rufus, I’m a powerful man, and I’m signaling all the other men in the room about my powerful manhood.
Rufus: Haha, that’s funny because my mentor always says—
Lucky: No powerful man has a mentor, Rufus.
Rufus: But how will you burgeon as an artist if you don’t have a mentor?
Lucky: Never mind, Rufus. Is your mentor a New York City university professor?
Rufus: Not only that: he’s an ART professor, which is even better. I’m becoming a real artist; I’m almost an artist already, but I have to take a few more electives first.
Lucky: Interesting; that explains your scarf.
Rufus: Do you think so?
Lucky: Well, your aunt is writing a quasi spiritual memoir; she calls it psychogeography. Have you ever read psychogeography?
Rufus: I don’t usually read psychogeography, but—
Lucky: But you will! I have the manuscript here.
Lucky drops a five-hundred page manuscript on the bar counter with a thud.
Lucky: You will give this manuscript to your mentor to read; then, he—what is his name?
Rufus: Dermot Dermot.
Lucky: Dermot Dos will in turn love it and give it to a New York City literary agent who will represent Georgiana in negotiations with the big publishing houses. Viola, the money will flow, hey hey, wink wink.
Rufus: I’m not going to do any of those things, Lucky.
Lucky: Huh, really?
Lucky: Rufus, I heard a little bird tell me that under no circumstances were you to practice art or meet with your mentor; Georgiana—she is so sweet, isn’t she?—told told me specifically, directly from your mother, that you were forbidden to make artwork.
Rufus: My mother would never say that.
Rufus touches his scarf protectively.
Lucky: I know, it was really strange, but then I asked for more information and, Rufus, the reason is that there are creditors after you. Your mother is keeping the creditors at bay, distracting them, paying them a little, but mostly lying about your location. Creditors are really creepy people. They hunt you down and destroy your life—there’s one there! Look, out the window!
Lucky points out of the restaurant window; Rufus doesn’t bother to look but immediately catapults over the bar counter and hides behind the bar.
Rufus: Did the creditor see me? Hide me, hide me, Lucky!
Lucky: Wouldn’t that be harboring a fugitive of credit, I think the term is called?
Rufus: You don’t have to harbor me, just don’t draw attention.
Lucky: WHY WOULD I DO THAT?
Rufus: Hush! Shh! Because you are a nice person?
Lucky: Thank you! But, what is in it for me?
Rufus: I’ll do anything you want, just don’t reveal my location to these creditors!
Lucky: Well, there’s this spiritual memoir that I need to connect to a famous literary agent, you see.
Rufus: Oh, the memoir, of course! Give me the memoir; I’ll read it; I’ll praise it; my mentor will read it; he’s super smart; his name is Dermot Dermot; he’s great; he’ll read it and he’ll know the exact literary agent to contact.
Lucky: Yes, you mentioned this Dermot Dos a moment ago.
Rufus: I’m going to like this memoir; I love big books.
Lucky: And for all this, I won’t tell the creditors about your location.
Rufus: You really are a nice person, Lucky!
Lucky: Unfortunately, Rufus, I’m not sure if I can lie to your aunt about your artwork, though.
Rufus: You can’t just, I don’t know, not tell her?
Lucky: What if, say, your aunt is on the phone with your mother and they are talking and my Georgiana looks at me and says, “Rufus’s mother asks, ‘Has Rufus been making art’?” What should I say or do, Rufus, in such a scenario?
Rufus: Jump behind the furniture: that’s what I do, for example, when I see creditors.
Lucky: Do you have any money?
Rufus: Not much—here, I have twenty euros.
Lucky: Thanks! I’ll take this twenty euros and this will help me remember to jump behind furniture—today.
Rufus: Oh, wow, that’s great. I really appreciate that, Lucky.
Lucky: No problem for today; maybe come see me tomorrow and we will talk again.
Rufus: I can probably find another twenty euros somewhere.
Lucky: Great! Then, I can probably jump behind furniture tomorrow, too. Now, get out of here before I kick you or step on you.
Rufus: Is the creditor gone?
Lucky: Who? Oh, yes, the creditor is gone, yeah.
Rufus: Which way did the creditor go?
Lucky: That way into town.
Rufus: Do you mind if I use the back door to the restaurant?
Lucky: No, fine, suit yourself. Aren’t you hungry?
Rufus: An artist doesn’t live on bread alone, but on making artwork.
Lucky: Rufus, the manuscript?
Rufus: Oh, yeah, of course, the manuscript. Give it to me. Gosh, it is so heavy; I can’t wait to read it!
Rufus leaves through the restaurant kitchen.
Lucky: Lucky Strike strikes again. Boom boom.