(John enters a blackened room through two double doors. He is holding a tissue in one hand and a pile of dirt in the other)
John: (to audience) After all my adventures, I seem to be a bit dirty. (motions to pile of dirt in his hand). So I asked for directions to the nearest bathtub. Though it seems this is a bathclub.
(The camera zooms out from where John is, and all around him are flashing lights, and clubbers in bathtubs, wearing showercaps and goggles, hosing themselves down)
(Bath Attentant, a guy dressed in a bathrobe, afro and sunnies comes over to John. John's eyes start watering, and he blows his nose)
Bath Attentant: Hey dude!
John: (shakes head) No, hay fever.
Bath Attendant: (ignoring John) Do you remember getting Saturday night fever, man?
John: Yes I do...
(Bath attendant looks excited)
John: ...the runny noses, the throaty coughs. Every sunset there on the weekend I'd be in the bathroom, chucking it up.
Bath: (dissapointed) That's not funny, dude
John: (shocked) I'll say it isn't. I had to swallow all those big pills.
Bath: (nods, smiling smugly) Now you're talking.
John: I figured that much, my mouth is moving, and sound is coming out.
Bath: Pfft, you call that sound? You should hear my system, man.
John: Digestive, lymphatic or circulatory?
Bath: Say what?
John: (in montone) What.
Bath: Huh? Forget you!
John: That's understandable, I never introduced myself. My names...
(Bath walks off in a huff)
John: Can you believe that? I guess I'll have to find a bath by myself.
(By the wall are a group of doors with the word "Bath" on them. John enters and finds a lavish bathroom, complete with linen closet. A grey haired Jimi Hendrix is inside, sitting on a stool, playing his guitar)
Jimi: Great acoustics, man. (notices John) Oh, right. I'm supposed to be dead. C'mon you guys.
(Jimi knocks on the linen closet. An aged Elvis, John Lennon, Lucy Lawless and Celine Dion all come out. Together they leave.)
John: This place must have tight bookings. (looks into tub) At least they cleaned the bath.
(John inspects the taps, there are four of them. All are marked.)
John: Four taps, that's pretty darn classy. So darn classy, it could darn your socks... with class! Hmm, this one says cold water.
(John turns it on, has a feel, turns it off. He shivers)
John: (nods) Yep, it's cold. And this one says hot water.
(John turns it on, has a feel. He yelps, then turns it off)
John: That's hot too. (looks at the next tap and frowns) This one says "bottled water". I wonder.
(John turns it on. The tap begins pumping out platic bottles of water, which rapidly fill up the tub.)
John: Interesting, but I'd better turn it off. (turns it off) Bottled water is expensive, you know. (looks at next tap) This one says tap water. (turns it on)
(The tub begins to fill up with tap shoes, all dancing by themselves)
John: (shakes his head) That's very dissapointing. (turns off tap, and picks up tapshoes, still tapping away.) Go sing in the rain. (chucks them in a shower recess and turns on the water)
John: Don't worry, I'll get the hang of it.
(fades out, then back in. John is in the bath, covered in bubbles. Only his head is seen)
John: Nice and relaxing.
(The bath begins to uproot itself from the floor, then it floats out the window.) Back to John Negated #7Forward to John Negated #9Back to Quarterstein's Site To John Negated Index