FADE IN:

               BLACK SCREEN — NIGHT

               White, sensuous tendrils of smoke drift up in random
               patterns.  The smoke starts faint and grows thicker, choking
               the screen.

                                   RICHARD
                         The blonde looks like my type.

                                   CARL
                         She’s the kind of woman you marry,
                         not someone you try to have sex
                         with.  She’s too plain looking for
                         a romp.

                                   RICHARD
                         The red head?

                                   CARL
                         She looks like a social climber
                         looking for money.  Look at her
                         purse, old and wanting upgraded.

                                   RICHARD
                         Jesus, look at the brunette at the
                         bar.  She’s perfect.

                                   CARL
                         No!

                                   RICHARD
                         She’s looking at me.  That’s good.

                                   CARL
                         I mean it, no.  She’s too perfect.

                                   RICHARD
                         You can marry a beautiful woman as
                         easy as a plain one.

                                   CARL
                         We’re here to get you laid.  Get
                         you over your broken engagement.
                         Don’t shoot so high.

                                   RICHARD
                         She’s still perfect.

                                   CARL
                         Not just no, fucking no.

                                   RICHARD
                         Are you going to be my wing man?

                                   CARL
                         She’s so out of your league, Rich.

                                   RICHARD
                         If it’s love fine, if not then
                         maybe getting screwed will do.

                                   CARL
                         Fine, but, she might screw you;
                         just not in the way you hope.

                                   RICHARD
                         Why can’t I have it all too?

                                   CARL
                         If you have to try, at least use
                         the wooden matches.  It’s classy.

               The sound of a box of matches being tossed and caught.

                                   RICHARD
                         I need this.  Will you cover me?

                                   CARL
                         Sure, I’ll get the body bag.

               Richard’s foot steps are heard.  He whispers to himself.

                                   RICHARD
                         (to self) I’d give anything for
                         this one.

               The last of the smoke floats off leaving the screen black.