SCOUT DURWOOD: Scout left the room, defeated, and tired from all that dancing. She had gone from winning day one to not placing in the top five, day three and couldn’t help but worry that she had lost her funny, or, even worse, had mistaken it for luck the entire time. She couldn’t help but feel like trying and not trying were the same thing, only one involved pronounced disappointment and the other did not.
She resented the dress she thought was lucky. She resented dancing and split ends and crowds of 400 at a casino in Tahoe where the median age was over sixty five. She resented the casting assistant who had knocked her out of a program she wanted to be in for two years in a row. She resented wanting to be better at something at which she did not know how to improve. She wished she had wanted to be a basketball player, instead.
Mostly, however, she was just very sad, and so she went to bed, did not wash off her make up, and left her contacts in her eyes, the way a medieval catholic might wear a hair shirt to be made aware of her eternal shortcomings and of the pointlessness of it all.
She hoped her funny would come back soon, and also googled prices for cabins in Vermont, just in case it never did.
LADY SCOUTINGTON: Jesus, Christ. Indulgent much, Scout?
LS: I said, indulgent much? Go sing karaoke with your goddamn friends. Who cares about a stupid competition.
SD: Heather told me to win. I want to win.
LS: So win.
SD: I don’t know how. This isn’t basketball.
LS: Ah, basketball.
SD: I am very good at basketball.
LS: But you played soccer in college.
SD: And I hated it. The games were too much pressure for me. I just wanted to run around and play, but I was a goalkeeper, so I had to sit still during games and make very important tactical decisions with which I was extremely uncomfortable.
LS: Then why did you play goalie if you hated it so much?
SD: Because I was good at it. And I was different.
LS: But you hated it.
SD: I didn’t always hate it. Only when it got serious. Then I started to hate it. Before that it was fantastic.
LS: Great. I think we pretty much laid out that metaphor for everyone.
SD: It isn’t a metaphor.
LS: Scout, you always try to go the hard way.
SD: No I don’t. I’m just weird. That’s why I invented you. And a lot of good that did me.
LS: I’m wonderful!
SD: Yes, but you don’t matter.
LS: Excuse me?
SD: In the grand scheme of things, you have never mattered.
LS: You are PMS-ing, for sure.
SD: Yes, I am. And I’ve had two Jamesons, rocks, and I don’t know how to win a competition that I very badly want to win.
LS: This wasn’t your crowd tonight.
SD: No excuses.
LS: Then be funnier.
LS: More contouring on your eyeshaddow?
SD: Not funny.
LS: Apparently, that’s the trend for us tonight.
LS: I don’t know the answer. Quit if you want to. I don’t even get to come out and play anymore. What the hell do I care?
LS: So, what, is this the end?
LS: Fuck you for being dramatic.
LS: Ugh! I said, fuck you for being dramatic! No one cares that you don’t feel funny tonight. It genuinely doesn’t matter. Either be funnier or stop caring, but this blog post sucks.
SD: You suck.
LS: There you go! Fight back.
SD: Do you think room service delivers Jameson, rocks?
LS: I should goddamn hope so. It’s 2014.
SD: Fine. I’ll try again at the competition tomorrow. But if it doesn’t work then, I’m quitting.
LS: Whatever. I just want to end this conversation as it is very hipster and annoying.
SD: You know, anytime we start to feel anything negative at all, you say stuff just like that. You undercut our feelings because you don’t think they do or should have vale.
LS: Absolutely not. I am not letting you turn this on me. Go cry yourself to sleep, peaches. I’m going to watch a movie on hotel cable. I know it may not feel like it now, but there are people in this world do who end up with development deals, and I, for one, intend on enjoying their work.
LS: Goodnight, Scout.
SD: Goodnight, Scout.
LS: My name is Lady Scoutington.
LS: No way. You can’t take away the fact that I exist just because you are being a grump. I exist, and even if I don’t get to come back for seventeen years and when I do it’s on cable access, next to a woman in a pale blue pleather shirt talking about her life as a dog trainer, I am coming back. You are not getting rid of me no matter how hard you cry about it.
SD: Hello, room service? I’d like to order a Jameson, rocks.
LS: Ugh. Pass me the remote control. If I have to sit through one more minute of this sob fest, I’ll burst.
SD: Is there anything funny on TV?
LS: Always. Somewhere in the universe, there is always something funny on TV. You just have to be less judgmental and look.