For this one: You must convince a corrupt business partner to go into semi-apocalyptic exile.
WASTELAND (any gender, late twenties through late life)
Hugh, at the end of the day, you have a choice. It is what it is.
Choice 1: Stay in the city and go to prison.
Choice 2: Go out into the wasteland.
Go into the wasteland?
Yes: Let's unpack that statement. You leave the hospital and go... doesn't matter if you haven't healed. You'll go. And you'll go tonight.
Get the help of that little motorcycle gang. Have them take you. You're not a pretty sight. I understand. Hide your face in a hood. Wear a hockey mask... I could care less. But I'm giving you a chance. Before the police interview you. Before they find out HOW exactly you burned your face off.
I don't mean to be rude - but... me kicking you out into the dust... that's a lot better than you deserve. Needless to say, I respect you. We're both passionate about automotive technology. But we have our differences, don't we? I'm just sayin': I believe in creating standard automobiles for middle class families. You believe in embezzling funds to build-- I don't even know what you call them... I had a look at the one that burned up on you. It looked like an outback vehicle made out of dinosaur bones.
Perhaps that's why you'll survive out there. You're creations have a brutality to them. It'll be difficult out there, I know. Nothing really grows out there. There were record temperatures yesterday... and it's not even summer yet.
But actually, you've always been into pain, haven't you? "No pain, no gain." All your body building... "Hugh the Humugus?" You'll be fine.
Go forth, my friend. My former friend. Take your strange little gang with you. They'll follow you anywhere. My IQ is triple theirs and you led ME along for years.
Hugh, I'm instructing you: Just walk away.
Copyright 2016 by Matt Haynes. If you would like to use this piece, please credit: "Courtesy of Matt Haynes and The Pulp Stage"