Act Two, Scene Three, continued by Lord Brawl
Rather than hold conference with this harpy,
To the lunchroom let's repair forthwith.
Abandon rhetoric's sweet smoke
For that of Marlboro Man, perchance?
Chase it with a frosty Bud!
That's a plan that's firm and good.
Grab your brooms, let us depart.
Come, sisters, let's go!
Unseen (and presumably color coordinated) Announcer:
As he dresses, turgid and malevolent schemes
Bestir themselves with the dark recesses
Of Helmut's shocked and spinning brain.
How might Probostickus meet his grisly demise?
Alas! Now I must do murder. What to do?
I am no schemer, and no OJ Simpson's here
(Acquitted though he be, by learned peers)
To plot the nefarious deed. Damnit, Jim!
I'm a lover, not a fighter,
With love's sweet oils still drying on my skin.
Can I kill a man, and if so how?
Perhaps electric shock through his PC?
No gearhead I, I'd likely kill myself instead of him.
Cut the brake lines of his Porsche perhaps?
Unreliable at best, the way he drives
Insults the german engineers who made it.
How many times has he been standing here
Beside this fax machine and peering down
Like some demented god at us below?
But soft! There he is below me as I speak!
Checking the Page 3 girl as he leaves!
Now's my big chance!
Helmut grabs the heavy fax machine and tips it over the railing. It falls heavily
to the floor below, landing with a wet thudding sound.
You're faxxed now!
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