Hardly Working: School Spirit

By

Patrick Cassels & Dan Gurewitch

          INT. OFFICE - DAY

          ADAM looks up from his computer, to OWEN.

                              ADAM
                    Oh, look at that. Owen, your old
                    college Dartmouth has a football
                    game against Canby University
                    tonight.

                              OWEN
                    Yeah, whatever. I never really
                    cared about that school spirit
                    horseshit.

          Suddenly, FINSTER (DAN) and PERCY (PATRICK) arrive. They're
          classic 1920s UPPER-CRUST COLLEGIATE TYPES. Sweaters around
          necks. Hats with Cs. "Canby" pendants.

                              DAN
                    There he is, Percy! There's that
                    frog-brained Dartmouth man! We
                    heard there was one of your ilk
                    here.

                              PATRICK
                    Canby's going to lick you good
                    tonight!

                              OWEN
                    Uh, what?

                              DAN
                    You are a Dartmouth man, are you
                    not? That haven for troglodytes
                    buried in the dank New Hampshire
                    woods like a forgotten Sanitarium!

                              PATRICK
                    Back in our college days, we'd
                    often kidnap your undergrads and
                    hold them rump-side north,
                    trembling and trouserless off the
                    edge of their Hall of Languages
                    until they defecated on their own
                    dangling faces from fear.

          Dan and Patrick both TITTER: "Ha! Ha ha. Hm-ha-ha-ha." Owen
          gets up with his mug and walks away.

                              OWEN
                    Okay.

          INT. KITCHEN

          Owen washes his hands at the sink.

                              DAN
                    Scrub, scrub, scrub! You'll never
                    get the Dartmouth filth out of your
                    fingernails!

                              OWEN
                    Can you leave me alone?

                              PATRICK
                    Why, that sort of antisocial
                    attitude would never be tolerated
                    in the Canby Men's Club. Let's show
                    him the Canby Shake!

                              OWEN
                    Don't.

          Dan and Pat do an ELABORATE CHOREOGRAPHED SECRET HANDSHAKE:

                              DAN & PATRICK
                    "Harumph Harumph! Diddly-da!
                    Diddley-day, ha HA ha-ha! Fe fi, fo
                    fum! Twiddle the diddle, tap on the
                    bum! Squat low, and grasp a fist!
                    For Gold and Blue, now we kiss!"

          They KISS LIGHTLY ON THE LIPS, then titter-laugh.

                              DAN
                    I haven't done that in hours!

                              PATRICK
                    What do you think?

                              OWEN
                    Do your dicks have to be out?

          WIDE REVEAL: Their dicks are flopped out of their flies.

          INT. NOLL HOLE - DAY

          Owen enters to find Dan and Patrick.

                              OWEN
                    You wanted to see me?

                              DAN
                    We didn't request the meeting. Your
                    DEAN did!

          They point to a DUCK WEARING A DARTMOUTH BANDANA.

                              OWEN
                    Really?

                              PATRICK
                    Ha! You've been made a fool of!

                              DAN
                    Come come, it's but a harmless
                    jest. Don't let these monkeyshines
                    sour your puss, ribbing is one of
                    Canby's greatest traditions!

                              PATRICK
                    Why, who could forget the lark we
                    played on old Professor Cheswick?
                    We replaced his RUBBING SALVE with
                    POMADE!

                              DAN
                    Can you IMAGINE?

          They TITTER. The duck QUACKS. Owen stares, dead-eyed.

          INT. AT OWEN'S DESK

          Owen is working. Dan and Patrick appear behind him, arms
          around each others' shoulders, rocking back and forth as
          they TRIUMPHANTLY SING THEIR ALMA MATER:

                              DAN & PATRICK
                    'Twixt the bogs of Shenandoah And
                    the freezing Everglades Sits our
                    hallowed Alma Mater Atop an Indian
                    mass grave. Their warrior souls
                    feed us As we toss the old pigskin!
                    We hear them chanting from the
                    depths of Hell: "Canby, WIN WIN
                    WIN!"

          INT. OFFICE - ELSEWHERE

          Owen happens upon Dan and Patrick, who are WRESTLING.
          They're SHIRTLESS, wearing EXTREMELY SHORT GYM SHORTS and
          OLD-FASHIONED LEATHER HELMETS.

                              PATRICK
                    Firmer! Clench your buttocks,
                    Finster!

                              OWEN
                    What are you doing?

                              DAN
                    Ah! The Dartmouth boy has come to
                    challenge Canby's best men in a
                    grappling match! To the floor with
                    you, we'll determine who's the
                    greater cocksmith!

                              PATRICK
                         (to Dan)
                    Not so fast, Finster, we must
                    loosen up.
                         (to Owen)
                    Where do you keep your Oiled Boy?

                              OWEN
                    Our what?

                              PATRICK
                    No matter, we always bring our own.
                    Hermes!

          Patrick SNAPS. A TWINK-LIKE MAN, OILED UP, approaches.

                              DAN
                    A real slippery lad he.
                         (rubbing his hands together)
                    Don't be shy, we'll clasp you yet!

          Dan and Patrick begin AWKWARDLY CLASPING AND GRASPING at the
          OILED-UP MAN, grunting and moaning. Owen SLOWLY WALKS AWAY.

                              PATRICK
                    And Father said I wasn't man enough
                    for the trading floor!

          END.