Post by Roy Vezina on Sept 30, 2024 22:56:35 GMT
The scene opens with the Punch Line—Roy Vezina, Harv Norris, and Rick Hull—standing solemnly in front of a mock funeral setup. The room is dimly lit, with black curtains draped around and a fake casket placed in the center. A large portrait of Duke Womack, with an exaggerated scowl on his face, hangs above the casket. Harv is wearing a black suit that’s clearly too small for him, Rick is holding a bouquet of fake flowers, and Roy is at the front, standing tall and smug, dressed in an overly formal black suit and tie. He steps up to the casket, looking down with an exaggerated expression of pity, a mocking grin spreading across his face.
Roy Vezina: (with an overly dramatic sigh) “Well, well, well… here we are, boys. The end of an era. Duke Womack… finally laid to rest. And not a single tear was shed.”
Rick Hull and Harv Norris nod in exaggerated agreement, Harv barely able to keep a straight face as he clutches his too-tight suit jacket. Roy looks back at them, motioning for the “ceremony” to begin.
Roy Vezina: “It’s been a long road, hasn’t it? Duke Womack, the man who once ruled over Pollo Road with an iron fist, who did everything he could to make our lives miserable… has decided to pack it up and run off into the sunset.”
Harv steps forward, shaking his head as he places a hand over his heart in mock sympathy.
Harv Norris: (heavy Newfoundland accent) “Aye, b’y… ol’ Duke, he tried his best, didn’t he? But ya know, sometimes da game’s just too big fer ya. Guess he figured out he couldn’t handle da Punch Line, eh?”
Rick, standing by the casket with the fake flowers, nods solemnly, before dropping them onto the casket with an exaggerated sigh.
Rick Hull: “It’s a sad day for somebody… just not us. I mean, we’ll miss the guy, but only because now we don’t have someone to make fun of every week.”
Roy laughs, stepping up to the casket and giving it a light tap with the back of his hand.
Roy Vezina: “You know what, Duke? You’re lucky. You get to leave before we got the chance to really show you how we run things around here. But hey, you won’t be missed. Not by us. Not by the fans. Not by anyone, really.”
Harv starts to fake sob, pulling a tissue out of his jacket pocket and dramatically wiping his eyes.
Harv Norris: “Oh Duke! Ye were da best at makin’ yerself look like an idiot! Gonna miss dat.”
Roy smirks, patting Harv on the back before turning to address the camera, his voice dripping with arrogance.
Roy Vezina: “But let’s be real here… Duke Womack leaving Pollo Road? That’s not a tragedy—it’s a blessing. Now, we don’t have to listen to his whining and complaining about us running this place. Now, we can focus on what really matters… and that’s making sure the Punch Line stays at the top.”
Rick, always the more grounded one, steps up with a smirk of his own.
Rick Hull: “So, Duke… we wish you the best of luck in whatever hole you crawl into next. Maybe you’ll find a place where people actually care about what you have to say.”
Harv, still trying to hold back laughter, places a hand on the casket and looks at the camera with a mischievous grin.
Harv Norris: (in his thick accent) “Aye, b’y… we hope ya find peace out dere, Duke. Wherever ya end up. Maybe ya can start a new life where ya don’t have ta deal wit’ da big, bad Punch Line makin’ yer job so hard, eh?”
Roy, unable to contain his smug satisfaction any longer, steps back to the front, crossing his arms as he looks directly at the camera.
Roy Vezina: “You know what, Duke? We’ll give you this one last sendoff. From the bottom of our hearts, we wish you… absolutely nothing. No goodbyes, no fond memories, just the satisfaction of knowing that the Punch Line outlasted you.”
The three of them stand in mock silence for a moment before Rick leans in, breaking the tension.
Rick Hull: “So… when’s the afterparty?”
Harv grins, tossing the tissue aside and laughing.
Harv Norris: “Aye! We should celebrate properly, eh? We ran ol’ Duke outta town. Sounds like a reason ta pop da bubbly!”
Roy raises a mock glass, grinning from ear to ear.
Roy Vezina: “Here’s to Duke Womack… the man who couldn’t handle the Punch Line. Enjoy retirement, Duke. We’ll make sure Pollo Road is better off without you.”
The three of them clink their invisible glasses together, laughing as the camera zooms in on the casket, and then cuts to black, leaving behind the sound of the Punch Line’s obnoxious laughter echoing in the background.
Roy Vezina: (with an overly dramatic sigh) “Well, well, well… here we are, boys. The end of an era. Duke Womack… finally laid to rest. And not a single tear was shed.”
Rick Hull and Harv Norris nod in exaggerated agreement, Harv barely able to keep a straight face as he clutches his too-tight suit jacket. Roy looks back at them, motioning for the “ceremony” to begin.
Roy Vezina: “It’s been a long road, hasn’t it? Duke Womack, the man who once ruled over Pollo Road with an iron fist, who did everything he could to make our lives miserable… has decided to pack it up and run off into the sunset.”
Harv steps forward, shaking his head as he places a hand over his heart in mock sympathy.
Harv Norris: (heavy Newfoundland accent) “Aye, b’y… ol’ Duke, he tried his best, didn’t he? But ya know, sometimes da game’s just too big fer ya. Guess he figured out he couldn’t handle da Punch Line, eh?”
Rick, standing by the casket with the fake flowers, nods solemnly, before dropping them onto the casket with an exaggerated sigh.
Rick Hull: “It’s a sad day for somebody… just not us. I mean, we’ll miss the guy, but only because now we don’t have someone to make fun of every week.”
Roy laughs, stepping up to the casket and giving it a light tap with the back of his hand.
Roy Vezina: “You know what, Duke? You’re lucky. You get to leave before we got the chance to really show you how we run things around here. But hey, you won’t be missed. Not by us. Not by the fans. Not by anyone, really.”
Harv starts to fake sob, pulling a tissue out of his jacket pocket and dramatically wiping his eyes.
Harv Norris: “Oh Duke! Ye were da best at makin’ yerself look like an idiot! Gonna miss dat.”
Roy smirks, patting Harv on the back before turning to address the camera, his voice dripping with arrogance.
Roy Vezina: “But let’s be real here… Duke Womack leaving Pollo Road? That’s not a tragedy—it’s a blessing. Now, we don’t have to listen to his whining and complaining about us running this place. Now, we can focus on what really matters… and that’s making sure the Punch Line stays at the top.”
Rick, always the more grounded one, steps up with a smirk of his own.
Rick Hull: “So, Duke… we wish you the best of luck in whatever hole you crawl into next. Maybe you’ll find a place where people actually care about what you have to say.”
Harv, still trying to hold back laughter, places a hand on the casket and looks at the camera with a mischievous grin.
Harv Norris: (in his thick accent) “Aye, b’y… we hope ya find peace out dere, Duke. Wherever ya end up. Maybe ya can start a new life where ya don’t have ta deal wit’ da big, bad Punch Line makin’ yer job so hard, eh?”
Roy, unable to contain his smug satisfaction any longer, steps back to the front, crossing his arms as he looks directly at the camera.
Roy Vezina: “You know what, Duke? We’ll give you this one last sendoff. From the bottom of our hearts, we wish you… absolutely nothing. No goodbyes, no fond memories, just the satisfaction of knowing that the Punch Line outlasted you.”
The three of them stand in mock silence for a moment before Rick leans in, breaking the tension.
Rick Hull: “So… when’s the afterparty?”
Harv grins, tossing the tissue aside and laughing.
Harv Norris: “Aye! We should celebrate properly, eh? We ran ol’ Duke outta town. Sounds like a reason ta pop da bubbly!”
Roy raises a mock glass, grinning from ear to ear.
Roy Vezina: “Here’s to Duke Womack… the man who couldn’t handle the Punch Line. Enjoy retirement, Duke. We’ll make sure Pollo Road is better off without you.”
The three of them clink their invisible glasses together, laughing as the camera zooms in on the casket, and then cuts to black, leaving behind the sound of the Punch Line’s obnoxious laughter echoing in the background.