AT RISE: A closed door with a peep-hole, the front door, faces the audience from SR. At SL, an open door gives a peek into an unkempt bedroom. A sliding glass door UCS looks out onto trees. Roy sits on a browbeaten couch SL watching TV and smoking. There’s a knock on the door. Roy gets up to answer. Justin’s standing there holding a box from the cookie company.
JUSTIN: Dude! Guess what!
ROY: You don’t check your machine do you?
JUSTIN: What?
ROY: I left you a message like at five.
JUSTIN: Oh. So there’s no Tuesday night tonight.
ROY: That would be the case, yes.
JUSTIN: Oh. Sorry, dude.
ROY: Oh, it’s no problem. Not a problem at all.
JUSTIN: Oh, well. Check this out. [Justin opens the box]
ROY: I know you didn’t make some little old lady at the mall write ‘Hail Satan’ on a giant cookie for you.
JUSTIN: Hell, yeah! I paid the bitch, so she’d better write what I goddamn well fucking want. Made her do a pentagram, too.
ROY: Dude. That’s crazy.
JUSTIN: Hell, yeah!
ROY: Justin. You rock.