Transcribed from: Comedy Network[Bruce is sitting in a diner, on a lunch break]
Transcribed by: firstname.lastname@example.org
Can you believe I work in a bank? *Me* in a bank? Does that sound screwed or what? Cause you know all the convoluted back bullshit that involves, i.e., I have to wear a tie. But you know me, right. I wear one that's a little crazy, like this piano keys tie. So when people come in, it's like, "Whoa! What's *he* doing in a bank?"
First thing in the morning, people give me garbage - that's how I know my day has started. "I'm sorry sir, its not my fault if your signature just isn't holding up. It's just not good enough. I've been watching it deteriorate for months. You're losing it guy, and it shows. Oh yeah, I'll take it around and show it to people, but not so they'll authorize the cheque, so they can have a good laugh. Sir, were you aware that you're gross? Did you know that your cheques smell?" I looked at him and it was like, "Who would screw you?" But at night, I'm crazy.
[Cue cheesy dance club music. The lighting in the diner changes to flashing colours and strobe lights. Bruce gets off his chair and dances passionately, but rather like any guy at a junior prom]
Some nights I go crazy, some nights I get crazy. I'm the king of the club! I get back and forth. Hey [Kufka?], how ya doin? Screw the bank I work for, screw the bank! Hey Ben! Good lookin [?], great hair! Screw the bank I work for, screw the bank.
[The music stops, the original lighting returns. Bruce slides back into his seat]
". . . I'm sorry 'Ms.' Iverson. I just can't fit my lunch break into the tight parameters you set. To me a lunch hour isn't an hour - it's a state of mind. I'm sorry if it's welfare cheque day and that they'll be hobbling in in droves. Don't blame me for *having* a job, why don't you blame some of the people who can't hold down jobs but take cabs all the time anyway?" I look at Ms. Manythroats and it's like, "Who would screw you?" She should be bisexual. It would increase her chances. But someday, I'll go crazy.
[The club music and lighting returns. Bruce is dancing once more]
I'll eat pancakes on her grave! Forget my diet. Screw the bank I work for, screw the bank! I'll be quitting soon. Screw the bank!