Let me set the scene for you...
INT. CHUCK N’ RALLY – DAY
An x-mas light encrusted frat bar, semi packed with a post-college, “I can still do keg stands on a weeknight” crowd.
O’NEILL and POMS hang out in a back booth working their way through a basket of wings and beers.
Poms is the exact negative of O’Neill. Double zero, manicure that matches the pedicure, and an “I live at the tanning salon” skin tone. The only thing they happen to share is the same DNA.
O’NEILL
You let him pay all night?
POMS
Sure. Why not? He offered.
INNER O’NEILL
How are we related again?
O’NEILL
And you don’t see what’s wrong with that?
POMS
He offered.
O’NEILL
Right.
INNER O’NEILL
For starters, let’s talk genetics, shall we?
POMS
I’m not gonna say no. Do you know how much bottle service costs?
INNER O’NEILL
Both 100% Irish. Yet, you’re burnt sienna year around and I manage to turn into a lobster on an overcast day.
O’NEILL
Did you at least tell him you weren’t interested?
POMS
You kidding? Of course not.
INNER O’NEILL
You can find the rhythm and dance to monks chanting and I look like I’m going into seizures.
O’NEILL
How’s that fair?
POMS
Who said anything about fair? Besides, it’s not like I’m gonna see him again.
INNER O’NEILL
You live in Gucci and me in chucks and hoodies…
O’NEILL
Right.
(pause)
You want another round?
POMS
Sure.
O’Neill flags their waitress down and motions for another round.
POMS
You seriously need to lighten up.
O’NEILL
Me?
POMS
Yeah.
INNER O’NEILL
I just don’t get it…
A beat.
Their waitress comes over and places two Irish Car Bombs down in front of O’Neill and Poms. In perfect unison, they drop the shot in glass and chug the entire drink like two Betty Fords drop outs.
O’Neill looks over at Poms and can’t help but smirk.
INNER O’NEILL
Bingo.
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