Far from the Velvet Rope

Hi, my name is Ben.

ME: I'm freezing!

I'm freezing.

Jeremy and I had it on good authority that Sam Tyler, the author of the play we want to produce, enjoys a night at Badge 17--one of New York's hottest new clubs.

So there we were, waiting in a line that went around the block at ten o'clock at night, and I had forgotten to bring a hat, gloves, or something to build a fire with so we wouldn't die on the street like vagrants.

JEREMY: At least we managed to lose Ritchie.
ME: He wasn't even following us. He hopped in a cab and took off.
JEREMY: He probably thought he could just go to Sam's office, knock on his door, and be handed the rights. What an idiot.
ME: Yeah, such an idiot. He's probably sitting in a warm hotel room right now watching cool hotel room porn and eating room service.
JEREMY: But only one of us is leaving this city with the rights to the hottest new play of the year.
VOICE: Hello boys.

I thought I couldn't get any colder, but that voice was blood-chilling.

We both turned around to see Ritchie walking towards us--right next to Sam Tyler.

ME: What the--
RITCHIE: Sam, these are my friends Jeremy and Ben. They run a little dog-and-pony show in Providence.
SAM: Nice to meet you guys. Ritchie, we should go in before the drag show starts.
JEREMY: How did you--
RITCHIE: It was the funniest thing. I went to Sam's office, knocked on his door, and he let me right in.

To the idiot goes the rights.

ME: Did he--
RITCHIE: We're going to discuss doing his play in Rhode Island.
SAM: It's going to take a lot of convincing. That play is a hot property.
RITCHIE: Oh don't worry. I've got a hot property of my own.

And off they went into the club.

JEREMY: We have to do something.
ME: Like what?

That's when I saw a crazy gleam in Jeremy's eye.

And I knew we were going to get those rights--

JEREMY: Can you do a British accent?

--or die trying.