Speaken Speakens
INT. LIVING ROOM – NIGHT
The room is dim, with a single lamp casting a soft, orange glow. Empty beer bottles litter the coffee table, and a joint burns lazily in the ashtray. STEVE and CHRIS sit slouched on the couch, visibly tipsy, giggling like kids as they sip from their beers. The faint hum of music plays in the background, half-muted by the sheer absurdity of their conversation.
STEVE
(eyes half-open, grinning)
Man… you ever realize how, like, getting drunk and getting stoned... it’s like... the same but also not at all the same?
CHRIS
(seriously, nodding)
Bro. It always is... and it’s never not.
STEVE
(blinks, processing)
What?
CHRIS
(smiling)
Like, it’s always is, right? But... it’s never not. Like, it can’t be the same thing if it’s never not the same thing.
STEVE
(laughs)
Dude, that... that is some real deep shit. I don’t even know what it means but... it feels true.
CHRIS
(grinning)
That’s 'cause it is true, man. It's always is.
STEVE
(staring into space)
It’s always is… but it’s never not. Dude, we’re like... philosophers. We’re hitting Socrates levels of insight right now.
CHRIS
(smirking, raising his beer)
Yeah, yeah... just without the togas or whatever.
They both laugh, taking another long swig of their beers, then fall into a comfortable silence. The room buzzes with the weird energy of drunk epiphanies.
STEVE
(suddenly blurting out)
Speaken Speakens.
CHRIS
(furrows his brow)
What the hell is that?
STEVE
(getting more animated)
You know, like when someone’s saying something, and you’re not really sure if it’s genius or complete bullshit, but it sounds deep? That’s 'Speaken Speakens.' Like... they’re speaking, but it’s so profound, you don’t even know what the hell they’re saying.
CHRIS
(laughing)
Speaken Speakens? Dude, that's... that's incredible. You just invented a whole language.
STEVE
(proudly)
Exactly! Like, if someone’s going off, you’re just like, “Bro, you’re doing that Speaken Speakens right now,” and everyone knows.
CHRIS
(pretending to think deeply)
Yeah, like... when they hit you with some random-ass truth bomb, but the definition's blurry. Speaken Speakens.
STEVE
(leaning back, arms spread wide)
Right! Like... is it truth? Is it nonsense? Doesn’t matter, 'cause it’s Speaken Speakens.
CHRIS
(grinning, toasting with his beer)
Dude. We are revolutionizing the way people talk about profound shit.
STEVE
(sips beer)
Speaken. Speakens.
They both sit there, nodding at their drunken brilliance, as if they've stumbled onto something world-changing. The moment stretches, like the calm between storms, before both of them burst into laughter again, completely lost in their own ridiculousness.
CHRIS
(smirking)
It’s always is... but it’s never not.
STEVE
(nods seriously)
Speaken Speakens, man.
FADE OUT.