"This isn't my car if that's what you were thinking."

"I wasn't thinking about that, but now I'm thinking, why are you driving a car with Quebec plates?"

"It's my friend's car. We came here together in his car, but he went home with this hippy chick who lives around here. And I needed a car to get home."

"Home?"

"Yeah, I have to stay with my parents when I'm in town."

"Why are you here anyways?"

"I'm scouting for locations for my Bill Murray movie. Between the exchange rate and lower local labour costs, we save like forty per cent  shooting here."

"Who did you say your friend went home with?"

"I don't know her name but she has hair down to her ass."

"Celeste! She been with half the guys in the neighborhood and..."

CUT TO:

"Just take off your clothes, here...What did you say your name was?"

"Ronnie, but my friends call me Finkie."

"Finkie? That's not a very nice name," Celeste said while slipping out of her dress.

Finkie instinctively lunged-then-pulled-back towards the phone on the end-table. He had to call up Harry and tell him that the hippy chick really had this crazy bush happening. No, he couldn't make that kind of call...anymore...maybe once more...at least without getting caught. It wasn't mature. It wasn't acceptable, now, but someday it would, when he had his own hit reality show on the Playboy Channel, Getting Lucky: Live!

"It's just a nickname, short for Finkelstein. I've actually been thinking of changing my last name to something classy sounding like Da Vinci. Let's face it, Finkelstein is a name that works if you're a Three Stooge. Moe, Larry and Curly Finkelstein, sounds perfect. But what if I sold insurance and made cold calls all day?" Finkie lifted the phone and pressed it against his ear. 'That's Fin-kel-stein, F-I-N...K...E...L...No not K...L...E...and Stein with the E before the I...Can you spell that again?' Fuck, man. What was my great great granddaddy thinking when he founded the family name? I vant a ridiculous nem, det evryvun shood leff."


"Do you want to make love or just talk?"

"Whaddaya think, Celeste? So what's your last name?"

"RA-Elle-Ia. That's capital R, capital A, hyphen, capital E...little L, little L again, little e...dash, not a hyphen, capital I, little A. Fini. I'm the only one in the world with this name, I created it myself. My last name used to be Leduc. How I hated it! Everyone should change their names."

"..." Finkie was speechless, his hand in his underwear, unself-consciously fiddling with his balls like a six year old.

"Are you going to take off your underwear?"

Finkie pointed to the drooling Rottweiler lying on the floor. "I was hoping you might take the dog out of the room first."

"Galaxy? He's been my guardian though many lives. He's won't bother anyone. He just likes to watch."

Galaxy barked.

"Now off with the rest!" Celeste seized the the elastic band of  Finkie's underwear with her teeth and slid them off.

The hair along Galaxy's back stood on end while he growled.

"Maybe he smells the baby powder on my balls and doesn't like it?"

Celeste looked down at her bush and contemplated. "Organic talcum powder or the commercial stuff?"

"Organic, actually Sharon makes it."

"Oh my, it sounds lovely. I must have a sniff." She slipped off Finkie's underwear and buried her head into his aroused Members Only section.

"Aaa-choooo!" she sneezed, leaving behind a hanging looey dangling precariously from atop Finkie's pointer.

"Ooohhh maaannn!" Finkie cried. He flinged the hanging looey off his thing. The gob off goo fluttered and danced in the air until it was intercepted and gobbled up by Galaxy. "That's the grossest Scoobie snack I've ever seen."

"Excuse me, Ronnie, I'm horrific. I'm allergic to the lavender in the talcum. But let's not allow that to spoil our night."

Celeste skipped to the table in the corner of the room, dipped her hand into a candy jar and popped a tiny pill. She took out anther pill and skipped back to Finkie.

"Try this," she said.