The Jobba Mentality
["Jobton"]
(Trey Vincent, Sleazy-C, Mr. X, The Man Who Looks A Bit Like Nixon, Bivalve, Super Mollusc and Dyslexic Avenger are hanging out on a corner under a street light. It’s nighttime. And we’re doing this promo old-school style, in case you haven’t noticed. It’s from the days of wayback. No more of this novel stuff when the JWA is in da house!)
Trey: So, it’s quiz time. You remember that first time we all got together and you signed your lives away to TV and Sleazy?
JWA: Yeah.
Trey: Wasn’t as funny as we thought.
Sleazy-C: So we’re skippin ahead to here, which hopefully WILL be funny.
Trey: Well, excuse me for being burnt out from writing your lyrics for you.
Sleazy: Phuck you Trey.
TV: Fuck you Sleazy. (Trey slaps Sleazy-C.) Bitch.
Sleazy: You juzt slap bitched me!
Dyslexic Avenger: Bitch slapped. Ha ha!
Trey: OK. Now. You boys are supposed to be down with street lingo. So…here’s the street. Let’s figure out your new gimmicks.
Mr. X: Yes, please.
Trey: Huh? Huh? Huh?
Mr. X: What’d I say?
Trey: Where’s your attitude, boy?
Mr. X: Oh, sorry!
Trey: Huh?
Mr. X: Fuck you Trey.
Sleazy: Hey! That’s my line, ya dig!
Trey: Sleazy!
Sleazy: Phuck Studnutz and Seth, phuck you, phuck the iAd. Phuck evrybody.
Trey: (He shakes his head.) I’ll let you write your own raps.
Sleazy: I’m a natural rappa, while you’re a natural flappa. Blah, blah, blah!
(Trey chokes Sleazy and starts violently shaking by the neck during the choking process. Mr. X breaks it up.)
Mr. X: Remember me?
Trey: Oh yeah. We’re gonna get you one of those hats with an X on it.
Mr. X: Umm….
Trey: Huh?
Mr. X: Whatever. As long as I’m getting paid.
(Sleazy whistles the way guilty people do when they’re trying to sound innocent but still sound guilty anyway but think they’re being cool even though they ain’t. Mr. X doesn’t pick up on it, strangely enough.)
Trey: OK. So you’re the pissed off bitter guy in the group.
Mr. X: Thanks.
Trey: God are you pathetic. Don’t thank me!
Mr. X: Right, sorry.
Trey: Arggh!!!
Dyslexic Avenger: What gimmick my is?
Trey: OK, DA, you’re gonna be the dyslexic one who can’t rap for shit but you’re so funny nobody will care.
DA: Do I can that.
Trey: And Nixon…
Nixon: Yes?
Trey: You’re gonna be the horny double entendre sex rapper. Tricky Dick and all that.
Nixon: I am not a crook, I’m a gosh darned criminal!
Trey: Ugh. We’re gonna have to get these guys some vulgar lessons.
Nixon: Yes sir!
Trey: Bivalve and Super Mollusc?
Bivalve + Super Mollusc: Yes Trey?
Trey: You are our tag team rappers. The ‘why me’ guys. Complain a lot.
Sleazy: Now we should go listen to “Rap For Dummies” on audio tape!
Nixon: I’ve got plenty of blank tapes we can use.
Trey: Huh? The studios don’t use blank tapes.
Nixon: Hmm…what should I use them for then?
Trey: Secret meeting conversations, blackmail, whatever you fancy.
Sleazy: Can we jet?
Trey: Shut up X-Pac.
JWA: Ohhh!
Sleazy: I ain’t X-Pac.
Trey: You’re my X-Pac.
Sleazy: Aight, let’s throw down, bitch!
Trey: Huh?
Sleazy: Jobba! Scrubster! CURTAIN JERKER!
(Trey winds up and kicks Sleazy in the nuts. He falls over.)
Trey: Let’s go write.
Sleazy: Nutz!
(We fade out on Sleazy grabbing his.)