INT. BATHROOM
This is the private, little-seen world of the men’s club bathroom. It’s a citadel of male vanity. There is barely even a line at the urinals. The action is at the mirror, where a row of future Cher boyfriends are riveted by their own leather-jacket images. Every once in a while, one of the mirror guys flicks a hair.
Steve and Bailey piss, staring straight ahead at a blue brick wall.
STEVE
I met a girl I kind of like.
We hear the sound of Mirror Guy #1 giving someone advice.
MIRROR GUY #1 (O.S)
You just gotta be bigger than you.
You gotta be the Super You…
Bailey zips up, goes to the mirror.
BAILEY
Where did you get ‘The Super You.’
MIRROR GUY #1
I grew up with it in Philadelphia.
BAILEY
No. No. That’s mine. You heard
that from me —
MIRROR GUY #1
Gentlemen. I have a better one.
This is my theory, okay? This
one works. I love brunettes,
you-know-what-I’m-saying? So
you know what I do? I go out
only with blondes. You-know-what-
I’m-saying? Because when I’m
with a blonde, I’m always in
control. Why? Because it’s
not that important to me. I’m
lethal, man, I’m murderous to
blondes because I don’t care.
You-know-what-I’m-saying? They
sense my power and they seek its
essence.
For a moment, all we hear is the respectful silence of the guys in the bathroom. There is only the THUMPING of the MUSIC in the next room.
STEVE
But if you only like brunettes,
what’s the point?
MIRROR GUY #1
Yeah.
STEVE
(washing hands)
Yeah.
MIRROR GUY #3
Yeah because a true relationship
is based on —
MIRROR GUY #2
Hey, back off. It’s a new
theory.
Shaking his head, Steve returns to the club.