(CUT TO: Random insanity backstage. Employees are scurrying up and down hallways, some soaked, carrying folders of papers or, in one man’s case, wheeling a fax machine behind him on a dolly. One young soul navigates his way through the throng, arriving at last at a red door. He knocks four times assertively.)

VOICE: (Muffled behind door) “C’min!”

YOUNG MAN: (To himself) “Did he just say ‘coming’ or ‘come in’?”

(The YOUNG MAN waits for well over a minute before deciding it was probably the latter. A balding middle-aged man shoves him aside as he waddles down the hallway, tears staining his ruddy cheeks. He’s sobbing uncontrollably and yelling about how his future is lost, CSWA is going under, his wife won’t support a loser, he’s going to kill himself, yadda yadda yadda. The YOUNG MAN pays him no mind and opens the door, where he is immediately confronted by a wall of ganja smoke emanating from the monstrous doobie hanging lackadaisically from the mouth of your favorite Greensboro Greenhorn and mine…NOVA!)

YOUNG MAN: (Waving smoke from his face) “Nova…Nova, are you in here? It’s Rod the Gofer!”

(The Rising Star has to scream over the Ghostface blasting inches away from his head.)

NOVA: “COME IN, ROD, COME IN! I’M CELEBRATING!”

(Rod the Gofer walks over to the boombox and turns it down mercifully.)

ROD THE GOFER: “What on Earth could you be celebrating on a night like this?”

(NOVA is very plainly drunk. The hand that isn’t pointing a taped finger at ROD clutches a bottle of bourbon in a white-knuckle grip.)

NOVA: “Well, I was just sitting here, thinking about how all the sauce was getting me pretty parched and the weed was givin’ me cotton-mouth…and then these sprinklers overhead just started peppering me with cool, delicious H2-mother-funkin’-Izz-O!!”

(NOVA closes his eyes and leans his head back, tongue hanging out of his mouth, but the showers were cut off before ROD even came in the room. All that’s left is a mini lake across the floor, tiny waves gently lapping at the walls.)

ROD: “I came here to tell you your match has been cancelled.”

NOVA: “Good. I’m wasted.”

ROD THE GOFER: “You…you’re wasted? Now? But I only just told you that you weren’t going on! What would you have done if I had said ‘You’re on in five?!’”

NOVA: “Pssshaw. I would’a thought’a somethin.’ Besides, what’s the big deal, Gramps? You’re drunk, too.”

ROD THE GOFER: “Ummm…no, I’m not. I don’t even drink.”

NOVA: “You’re not drunk?”

ROD THE GOFER: “No.”

NOVA: “Not at all?”

ROD THE GOFER: “Not at all.”

(NOVA suddenly leaps up, runs past ROD and slams the door shut. Spinning around, a mischievous grin is visible across his bearded mug.)

NOVA: “Well you’re about to be.”

(CUT TO: The hallway, practically empty now. Suddenly the red door is kicked open, practically off of its hinges, and a cloud of thick, aromatic smoke billows out into the uncontaminated air. NOVA and his new pal ROD THE GOFER emerge, arms draped over one another as they stagger forward, practically slamming into the wall opposite their doorway.)

NOVA & ROD THE GOFER: “SHOW METHA WAYDAGO HOME!!! CUZ’UM TIRED ‘N IWANNA GODA BED!! HADDA LITTLE DRINKA BOWDA HOUR AGO, ‘N IT WENT RIGHT TO MY HEEEEEEEEAD!!!”

(They begin stumbling down the deserted hallway, happily oblivious to their solemn, dreary surroundings. NOVA stumbles to the side, and then shoves ROD with all his might, knocking him end-over-end into a large metal bin full of dirty towels. NOVA jabs a finger defiantly into the air.)

NOVA: “Rod, muh boy, we’ve sheen worse dazen this!”

(ROD crawls out of the bin quickly, a towel draped comically over half his face.)


ROD THE GOFER: (Hiccup!) “We’ave?”

(The Rising Star turns and slaps the wall.)

NOVA: “This ol’ girl’ll be alright! Trust me…” (Hiccup!)

(He slings his arm back over ROD’s shoulder and they continue down the hallway, their shoes splashing in the puddles of stagnant collected in the concrete’s recesses.)