TWIG: God Bless America!
BENSON: God Bless America!
TWIG: Inspector Twig, Homeland Security. I was doing neighborhood surveillance when I intercepted your call.
BENSON: What call?
TWIG: Your 911. Something about an old man enjoying himself. I don’t see any joy around here.
BENSON: There hasn’t been since I moved in.
TWIG: That’s un-American. Soldiers are dying to protect your pursuit of
happiness. I suggest you get on with it.
(He grows suspicious and takes out a pad.)
Name?
BENSON: Benson Wainwright. I’m the CEO of Patriotic Salt.
TWIG: Never heard of it.
BENSON: We have a non-competitive contract to secure the health of America.
TWIG: Non-competitive? How’d you get that?
BENSON: I’m ... not at liberty to say.
TWIG: What’s that supposed to mean? Sharing information is vital to the War
on Terror.
BENSON: I realize –
TWIG: (Flashing his badge.) I’m an agent of laws you never heard of.
BENSON: I figured –
TWIG: So what’s the problem? You aren’t questioning my patriotism, are you?
BENSON: No. I’m questioning your security clearance.
TWIG: I support our troops. Devote hours each day to reading about them in
the tabloids. And they’re close to my heart at all times! (He opens his jacket, revealing yellow ribbons sown into
the lining.) See!? Hand sewn by Mothers of the American Legion!
BENSON: Is that all? What happens when you shower? (Benson pulls up his dress shirt, revealing a large yellow ribbon tattooed on his chest.) Tattooed by the Girl Scouts of Clear Lake!
TWIG: I’m a veteran of two Gulf Wars!
BENSON: So I played one on a reality show!
(Stalemate. They turn away and pout.)
There’s no use competing against each other. We’ve both served our
country loyally for years. Now I’m about to launch the product that
will protect all of us – more or less – and I need you to get lost.
TWIG: You’re brushing me off?
BENSON: Yes. There’s an elevated alert. Go hang out on the corner and arrest
someone.
TWIG: Now you’ve done it. I’m calling backup. Code 3! Code 3!
(TWIG runs to his bag.)
BENSON: Code 3? What’s that mean? The electrodes? Water board!? Some kind of naked pyramid scheme?
Please. I don’t have time for an interrogation!
(TWIG turns around in a different hat as his alter ego, TREEBARK. Amiable. Well bred.)
TREEBARK: Good evening. What’s all the fuss about?
BENSON: Who are you supposed to be?
TREEBARK: Colonel Treebark, NSA. Sorry about that Twig fellow. He gets pushy, thinks he should be trusted with any information, no
matter how classified. It’s not his character we question. Just his intelligence. (He takes out pad and pencil.) Where’d he leave off?
BENSON: But ... you’re the same person. You just changed your hat!
TREEBARK: And let me tell you, we had to fight to get them. Wiring every house with that Terror Alert System broke the deficit wide open. I work
for three different agencies.
BENSON: You’re mad!
TREEBARK: Don’t worry, the Chinese wall is in force. I don’t share any
intelligence with myself, I assure you.
BENSON: Colonel Twig –
TREEBARK: Treebark.
BENSON: Treebark, you’re a troubled man. I suggest psychopharmacology as soon
as possible. There’s a well-stocked pharmacy in the cabinet. Take as
much as you want. It’s the only thing that keeps me calm.
