What's Happened So Far:
Days go by, and their own workplaces continue to become each man's personal nightmare. The hitman they hired to kill their bosses didn't work out the way they wanted, and Dean "Motherfucker" Jones is a waste of time and money. Without anyone left to turn to, they tun to each other and are forced to take matters in their own hands. It starts with breaking and entering...
"What's the plan?" asks Nick, looking around the junky, yet oddly stylish decor around Bobby Pellitt's house.
"We're here," explains Kurt. "To get some intell."
"Intell?" repeats Nick.
"Yeah, it's short for intelligence.
"I know what it stands for."
Kurt gives him an encouraging nod, as if to say, "Good for you."
"Then why did you ask?" says Dale quickly.
They paused awkwardly, each man feeling sheepish.
"Why are we talking about this," Kurt says at last. He gestures with his hands, saying, "Let's split up."
"Right, right..." agrees Nick in a mutter.
"In and out, in and out!" says Dale, holding up his sleeve-gloved hands. "Let's find something good, and then we're in and out of here."
"Stop chatting and start looking," hisses Nick as he walks past.
Kurt wanders off down a hallway while the other two men search the living room.
Quite suddenly, the weight of what they're doing punches Dale in the gut. With an emotional voice, Dale speaks, walking with his head down as he cluelessly looks for clues. "We're committing a crime; this is a crime..." Dale pauses, his eyes drawn to a black ashtray filled with cocaine. "Woah..." he breathes.
Nick glances at Dale, then looks up, frowning slightly. "Hey, Kurt!" he calls out. "Come back in here, we found something."
The smaller man reaches down to pick up the tray.
Nick flings out his hand and slaps Dale's.
"Owh!" yelps Dale, flinching back. "Why'd you do that, man?"
"Look, don't touch." says Nick.
"Wh- I just wanted to see what it was-"
"You know what it is." Nick looks around anxiously, listening.
Dale rubs his nose, sniffing lightly.
"Try not to breathe it in."
"What'd you guys find?" interrupts Kurt as he stomps through the house, one hand swinging with a red object clenched in his fingers.
"Cocaine. What do you have?" Nick asks.
"Bobby's cell phone. You guys have got to see his room- it's like he's trying to convert himself into a Kung-Fu Master or something."
"Is his bed soft?" asks Dale urgently.
"I don't know, I didn't lay on it..." says Kurt.
"That's a weird question to ask, what's the deal man?" says Nick.
"Well, I just haven't been getting any sleep...cause of Julia." Dale sighs. "I'm kind of in the market for a new mattress."
"Mattress Firm usually has good sales." says Kurt.
"Dude," Nick growls, "you can't shop for a mattress at the house of the guy we're plotting to kill. You have to do that on your own time."
"I dont have any of my own time!" shouts Dale in a high-pitched tone.
The other two step back, startled.
"I get up," Dale begins to count on his fingers, "take a shower, go to work, get sexually harassed at the work place- and now, instead of going home to my future-wife, I get to play cops and robbers! So where can I find any time to go anywhere, huh?"
Nick holds up his hands. "Enough." He sticks his hand out to Kurt. "Let me see the phone."
Kurt tosses Bobby's phone, and Nick clicks it on and begins thumbing through it. "...it has everything on here. Even his schedule."
"Great, that's terrific..." Dale claps his hands together. "We can we please go now?"
"We got what we need," agrees Kurt. "We can figure out what to do next on our way to Harken's."