Returning to the notorious locker room of Drake Callahan, an apprehensive interviewer in Becky stands outside the door.
Becky: Damn it, Leon...you probably ditched out on me so I would have to handle an interviewer alone with this...with...Drake.
She sighs heavily.
Becky: Into the breach, I suppose...
She timidly knocks on the door.
Becky: Drake?
She cautiously opens the door. It's dark inside, and she flips on the light switch. He's nowhere to be found, but a great number of half empty beer and wine bottles are scattered about.
Becky: Where the hell is he?
She pokes about the area, checking around corners. He is not in the room.
Becky: You know, it's one thing being drunk, but not even showing up...and this litter...
Suddenly, Drake bursts into the room. He's disheveled, wearing rubber gloves and his trademark sunglasses, and carrying a large bottle of red wine in one hand and one of an Irish red in the other. He grins widely.
Drake: Becky! Welcome...to the laboratory!
He gestures grandly, but Becky only stares nervously at him.
Becky: The...umm...laboratory?
Drake: Yes! He gives her a conspiratorial glance. The secret laboratory. You won't tell anyone, will you?
Becky: Umm...no, Drake, of course not.
Drake grins and nods.
Drake: Good! And the guy with the camera, he won't tell anyone either?
There's a few seconds of tense silence.
Becky: Nooo....of course not.
Drake: Great! Because I wouldn't want my top secret brewing plans to be let out to everyone.
He closes the door behind him and grabs a tall glass off one of the benches. He pours a measure of his wine into it, and a good bit of the rd beer he carries.
Drake: I think I'm on to something here...it's the color, it's all the color, Becky...red wine and red beer, it makes the best...
Becky: Drake...what exactly are you doing?
He gives her an incredulous look.
Drake: Making winebeer, of course!
Becky groans.
Becky: Dear God, I was hoping you'd have forgotten about this stupid idea...
Drake: Never! I've already sold some. He pauses a moment. Kind of.
Becky: Kind of?
Drake: Well, there's this real nice man who lives in the park. Charlie. Or Bill. Something like that. Anyway, I gave him some, and he liked it, a lot! And he said he'd pay me for it, when "they" came back for him. I don't know who they are, but I hope they have a lot of money! So's they can buy lots of winebeer.
He takes a long draught of his concoction and smacks his lips.
Becky: This, uh, friend of yours...what's he look like?
Drake smiles mischievously.
Drake: Why? Do you want to meet him?
Becky: No, god, no, just...tell me what he looks like.
Drake: He's got a great big beard, and has four teeth, and he's got a big coat. He looks around and leans closer. But to be honest with you, he smells kind of funny.
Becky: Is your friend, by any chance...a hobo?
Drake scratches his head for a moment.
Drake: No...I don't think he'd know anything about interior design...
Becky shakes her head vehemently.
Becky: No, no, Drake, a hoBo, with a b....you know, rides trains? Sleeps on park benches?
Drake: Oh! Well, he does sleep in the park. I think he's waiting for his friends to come back.
Becky: Drake, I don't think he's going to pay you for your winebeer...I think he's a broke, crazy, old drunk who sleeps on a park bench.
Drake shrugs.
Drake: He seems like a nice enough guy to me.
Becky: I imagine he would, to you. She rubs her forehead. Can we move along with this?
Drake: Sure! Where's Leon?
Becky bites her lip.
Drake: What's the matter?
Becky: You don't know?
Drake shakes his head.
Becky: Well, Leon has gone...She stars to say "missing", but stops herself. Gone...on vacation. For a while. He'll be back later.
Drake frowns.
Drake: He went on vacation! And he didn't even tell his best friend!
Becky: It was...umm...a surprise vacation. He'd have told you if he knew, I'm sure. So...you alright?
Drake finished off his glass and mixes more of his drink together. He gives her a huge grin again.
Drake: We were talking about what now?
Becky: Honestly...She puts her head in her hands, and speaks through them. Your match. Talk about it. Go.
Drake: Right! I'm wrestling a very scary guy, Becky...the Great...
He pauses and pulls out a slip of paper.
Drake: Muh...mee...mah...
He taps Becky.
Drake: Becky? How do you say this one?
He points at it. She looks at it through a whole in her hands.
Becky: Milenko?
Drake: Milenko...Milenko...
He laughs.
Drake: That's the funniest name I've ever heard. Anyway, the Great, um, Milenko, is a champion. I think.
He looks at Becky. She nods, still holding her head. Drake grins widely.
Drake: Well, Becky, this is excellent! I get to wrestle a champion, one on one! If I beat him, well, I'm one step closer to being a champion!
Becky finally lifts her head.
Becky: You do realize which champion Milenko is, right?
Drake: Who cares, they're all the same!
Becky: Not so much, Drake...he's the Mayhem Champion. The hardcore title.
Drake looks at her blankly.
Becky: So, you know...he's kind of a hardcore guy. Chairs, tables, ladders. That sort of thing.
Drake: Becky, everyone needs those things! To eat on, and sit, and climb things!
Becky: No, Drake...he hits you with them.
A moment passes.
Becky: Hard.
Drake: Oh.
A few more moments pass.
Drake: Do...do you think it'll hurt?
Becky: I would think so, yes.
Drake nods his head slowly as he sips more beer. He looks at his bottle, still more than half full, and chugs it down. He grabs another off a nearby bench, cracks it open, and finishes it.
Drake: Well, then, Becky, I'm just going to have to be so hammered, I can't feel it anymore!
Becky: That's, umm...a unique solution.
Drake: Thanks!
Becky: It wasn't really a compliment...
Drake stands up and is at his locker, already pulling out more beer.
Drake: Thanks for coming Becky, but I've got to get ready now if I'm ever gonna be smashed enough.
Becky stands up and smiles.
Becky: Somehow, Drake, I don't think you'll have a problem.
He grins a crooked, drunken grin and turns his back to her, already starting on his task. Becky leaves the room and shuts the door behind her. From the room, a muffled call of "Thanks, Becky!" is heard.
Becky: Again, Drake...not really a compliment.
