The Bullshit Arm
INT. RECORDING STUDIO – NIGHT
The studio is dimly lit with empty beer bottles scattered everywhere. RICK, STEVE, and CHRIS are drunk, swaying in their seats around the console. Chris is sloppily attempting to set up an arm-wrestling match, his eyes barely focused. Rick, calmer but just as drunk, looks amused. Steve is on the side, practically crying with laughter, unable to keep it together.
CHRIS
(slurring, waving his hand)
I bet you can’t beat me, man! I’ve been... (hiccups) training. Training in... uhh, beer curls, bro. I’m a machine.
RICK
(laughing, setting up)
Chris, you’re like, 90% liquid right now. You’re gonna slip right off the table.
CHRIS
(grinning)
Nah man, I’m like... (tries to think) I’m solid, like... (flicks his arm) rock hard. Made of granite. Like a Greek statue, bro. Look at this thing!
STEVE
(giggling uncontrollably)
You look like a melted candle, dude.
Chris tries to steady himself and slaps his arm down on the table. Rick, shaking his head, puts his arm up, ready to go. Steve is already losing it, watching them set up.
CHRIS
(mock serious)
Alright, bro. You ready? This... (dramatically) this is for all the marbles.
RICK
(smirking)
You don’t even have marbles, man. You’ve lost all your marbles.
STEVE
(laughing so hard he’s wheezing)
He’s got negative marbles at this point!
CHRIS
(squinting at Rick)
Shut up, shut up... you’re old, bro. This ain’t fair. I’m at my prime, and you’re like... (trails off, struggling to find words) prehistoric.
RICK
(laughing)
I’m like three years older than you!
CHRIS
(waving dismissively)
Nah, bro... ancient. You got like... dinosaur strength.
They finally lock hands. Steve is already losing his mind from laughter before they even start. They begin arm wrestling, but it’s more wobbly than intense. Chris is clearly struggling but trying to play it off.
CHRIS
(groaning, face turning red)
You’re cheating, man! You got... (wincing) you got a bullshit arm, dude!
STEVE
(wheezing)
A bullshit arm?!
RICK
(laughing, still holding Chris steady)
What the hell’s a bullshit arm?!
CHRIS
(struggling harder, his voice getting louder)
It’s fortified, man! Fortified with... (gasps) old man strength! You’ve been doing this since like, the Civil War!
Rick starts laughing so hard he almost lets go. Steve is howling now, tears in his eyes.
STEVE
(barely able to speak)
Bullshit arm! I can’t—I can't breathe!
CHRIS
(whining as Rick’s arm gets closer to winning)
Dude! No normal person has that kind of arm! Your arm’s been through shit... like battle-hardened or something. Probably been training it in secret for years! Years, man!
RICK
(barely holding it together, still laughing)
What, you think I arm-wrestle like... every day after work or something?
CHRIS
(nodding frantically)
YES! And you... (struggling to think of more excuses) You got that Tourette’s super strength, man! It’s like... you’re enhanced. You’re like an X-Man!
Steve collapses in his chair, practically dead from laughing.
STEVE
(through gasps of air)
He’s a mutant, bro! With a... bullshit arm! Oh my god!
Rick finally slams Chris’s arm down, winning. Chris falls back dramatically, over the top, panting.
CHRIS
(breathing heavily)
Nah, dude. Nah, that wasn’t fair. You... (pointing weakly at Rick’s arm)... bullshit arm. I had no chance.
Steve, in between fits of laughter, reaches over and shakes Rick’s hand.
STEVE
(mock serious)
Congratulations, Rick. Truly, you’ve mastered the art of the bullshit arm.
CHRIS
(lying on the floor, eyes closed)
I’m retiring. I’m done. No one can beat that... it’s fortified.
They all sit in silence for a moment, catching their breath from laughing. Steve snorts once more, starting another wave of laughter.
STEVE
(wiping tears from his eyes)
Dude... I’m never arm wrestling you. Ever. That arm’s too bullshit for me.
Rick just shrugs, lifting his arm like a champion, flexing it exaggeratedly as the camera fades out on their drunken chaos.
FADE OUT.