Transcribed from: Comedy NetworkCast-
Transcribed by: email@example.com
Corrections by: ST
[Dave is sitting at a desk, amusing himself by sticking pieces of scotch tape to the ends of his fingers. There is a knock at the door. Dave looks wearily at it. The knocking persists. Enter Scott]
- Dave- wimpy, ineffectual boss
- Mark- Monique
- Scott- a higher-up
Scott: Sir, I need to talk to you.
Dave: What is it?
Scott: Well it appears we have a problem.
Dave: [very wimpy and pathetic as per the entire sketch] Noooo.
Scott: Yes, I'm afraid we do. Now let's not beat around the bush.
Dave: Okay, what is it?
Scott: Well it concerns you.
Dave: Awwwww . . .
Scott: and someone you hired.
Dave: Awwww noooo!
Scott: Yes, and people are talking and things are happening, sir.
Dave: What things?
Scott: *Bad* things.
Dave: Awwww noooo! Awwww . . .
Scott: Sir, this is something we have got to face head on.
Dave: Okay. What is it?
Scott: Well. Do you remember that girl you hired?
Scott: The French girl.
Scott: From accounting.
Scott: Well. It appears that Monique has been burning things.
Dave: Oh, what things?
Scott: *Big* things.
Dave: Well *how* big?
Scott: Cars. Buildings. Branch plants.
Dave: Awwww, why does she do that?
Scott: Because she's a pyromaniac. And sir - *you* hired her.
Dave: Oh, so what if I did? Everyone likes a fire. And it's Christmas.
Scott: Sir, we can't afford to employ an arsonist. We're an insurance company.
Dave: Well I don't care.
Scott: Well you should care because people are getting worried.
Dave: Oh, well, they shouldn't worry. I'm fine.
Scott: They're not worried about you.
Dave: Oh why *are* they worried?!
Scott: Flames. Fire. Death. Go figure.
Dave: Awwww . . . [looks at the door] Hello!
[Dave hides under the desk while Scott falls for it. Scott looks back at the empty chair and immediately knocks on the desk]
Scott: Sir, I think you're trying to avoid this confrontation.
Dave: [emerging from under the desk, extra pouty] That's ridiculous.
Scott: Is it?!
Dave: Well what if it is? My head hurts.
Scott: Sir, we are in a crisis and action must be taken. Whaddya say?
Dave: . . . vegetable?
Scott: WRONG!!! You're going to have to fire her.
Dave: In this life?
Dave: Awwww . . .
Scott: She's outside. I'll go bring her in.
Dave: Hey, maybe if you kept her waiting, she'd quit.
[Scott gives Dave a threatening look and Dave slinks back into his chair, pouting. As soon as Scott closes the door, he rushes to the closed window, which is several stories up, and pathetically tries to hail a cab. Enter from a smoke filled hallway, Scott with a fire extinguisher and Monique]
Dave: Bonjour Monique.
Mark: Bonjour Monsieur. [lights a match off her wrist and sets a nearby coat on fire. Scott quickly extinguishes it]
Dave: Do you - do you like it here?
Mark: Oh yes, everyone is so flammable!
Dave: Oh great. Well that's great. You just keep up the good work. I'm sorry I had to interrupt your day like this . . .
Mark: Oh, no problem. [Tosses her cigarette into a wastepaper basket, which ignites instantly. Scott puts it out and she slaps his arm] Mon feu!
Scott: Sir . . .
Dave: All right. [Quickly scribbles something on a sheet of paper and hands it to Monique. She reads it]
Mark: Oh thank you very much.
Scott: [snatching the note and reading it for himself] "Vous etes tres belle?" Sir!
Dave: All right. [Does the same thing, this time showing the note defiantly to Scott before handing it to Monique. Monique reads it]
Mark: But you can't fire me. I'm from France.
Dave: She's got a point.
Scott: What point?!
Dave: How should I know?
Scott: [Blowing the note Monique is igniting out of her hand with the fire extinguisher] Do it!!
Dave: Awww, well help me out! Come on, be a team player! Chip in, muck in! Come onnnnn!
Scott: Monique, you're fired.
Mark: [starting to cry] I hate you.
Dave: Awww, now she hates me! Oh, that's not good, that can't be good. [Monique lights a painting on fire as she leaves. Scott extinguishes it.] Well I hope you're happy.
Scott: You're pathetic.
Dave: Am I?
Dave: No I'm not.
Scott: Yes you are.
Dave: Okay, big deal.