Van rolls up the Harbor Freeway through downtown LA. Theme from Rawhide plays. Kent and Nel sing along. Bilge looks out window. Bud smiles behind the wheel. Monk sits quietly.
Kent and Nel – Keep rolling’ rollin’ rollin’ though the streams are swollin’ keep them doggies rollin’ Rawhide, My heart’s calculatin’ my true love will be waitin’ be waitin’ at the end of my ride.
Bilge feels his phone vibrate, slaps his pocket, pulls it out shouting.
Bilge – Turn that shit off!
No one hears him. He pokes Monk.
Bilge – Tells those fuckin’ pricks to turn that shit off!
Monk (softly) – Hey you fuckin' pricks, turn that shit off.
Nothing happens, they keep on singing. Monk turns to Bilge and shrugs. Bilge checks number on his phone. The song ends. Monk hears Bilge speak.
Bilge – Clarice.
Monk – Clarice!
Bud and Nel hear Monk say ‘Clarice’.
Bud and Nel – Clarice!
Kent – Who the hell’s Clarice?
Nel - I ate her liver with fava beans…
Five notes of UB40 singing “red, red wine…” play on the stereo. Bud turns down volume.
Nel - …and a fine chianti.
Kent – WHO. IS. Clarice!?
Monk – You never met Clarice?
Kent – Monkeyboy, if I’d met Clarice, would I be askin' who she is?
Monk – Maybe you just like the sound of your own voice?
Kent – Millions of others do, too, mate.
Bud – Oooh, famous rock star…
Nel – No autographs, please ladies, I’ll fuck y’all one at a time, be patient, but I don’t do autographs…
Monk – Yeah, what’s up with that? I read you won’t sign autographs. Who are you, Bill Russel?
Kent – Who’s Bill Russell?
Bud shouts at windshield.
Bud – He’s the guy fucking Clarice.
Bilge shakes his head and hits redial.
Monk – You’re calling her back?!
Bilge – Bob’s your mother’s brother I’m callin’ her back. A man’s got needs…
Voice picks up from other end of the phone.
Clarice (muffled) – Hello, hello…
Bilge – Clarice?”
Bilge – Yeah, yeah, we just got in…
Pull away from Bilge to Kent and Monk.
Kent – So, once again…‘Clarice’?
Monk – It’s a long story…
Pull away to Nel in passenger seat, pulls GPS from day bag at his feet.
Bud – What’s that?
Nel – GPS.
Bud – GPS?! We don’ need no stinkin’ GPS.
Bud – (tapping temple) I’s gots it all right here.
Nel – Bud, my good friend, consider if you will our milieu. This is what is known in common parlance, as a bachelor party, at least in your vernacular. We from the antipodes would refer to it as a Buck’s Night, which, due to matters beyond our self-control, fails to capture the depth, breadth, and width of this debacle.
Monk – Emphasis on the depth.
Bud (to Nel) – Your point?
Nel – My ‘point’ is you’re gonna be bloody pissed. Soon, often, and well and truly. Then that little brain of yours won’t be worth dick.
Monk – Well said, well spoken.
Kent – Speaking of piss…
Bud – We’re almost there.