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My Ass
Stephen is seated at a large desk in American military
uniform, smoking a huge cigar: a Stars and Stripes
flag hangs behind him.
Stephen: Jacobson! Get your ass in here right now!
Hugh enters, also in uniform, carrying a holdall.
Hugh: Sir!
Stephen: Jacobson, what the hell am I going to do with
your ass?
Hugh: My ass, sir?
Stephen: Can you think of one goddamn reason why I
shouldn't kick your ass all the way back to New
Mexico?
Hugh: Well, sir if this concerns ...
Stephen: You know what the hell it concerns, Jacobson.
It concerns your ass! What does it concern?
Hugh: My ass, sir.
Stephen: Do you recall what it was I said to you the
last time you were in here?
Hugh: Well sir. You told me to move my ass, and haul my
ass, and not to sit on my ass, because if I did, you
would personally rearrange my ass.
Stephen: Uh uh. Wrong, Mr Jacobson. I was not going to
rearrange your ass - I was going to boil your ass
in a bag, and have your ass for breakfast.
Hugh: That's it, sir. Have my ass for breakfast.
Stephen: Read that sign, Jacobson.
Hugh looks at a sign on Stephen's desk.
Hugh: "The buck stops at my ass."
Stephen: See, that's why I have this star Jacobson. Because
my ass is on the line.
Hugh: The bottom line ... ?
Stephen: The bottom line.
Hugh: I understand.
Stephen: Well, I am glad you got your ass straight on that
one. Now Jacobson, I've got myself a problem.
Hugh: A problem, sir?
Stephen: Yup. Seems that some goddamn college boy on
the fifth floor wants a piece of my ass ...
Hugh: Your ass, sir?
Stephen: You bet your ass, my ass. If I could just get
my hands on this guy's ass, his ass is history.
Hugh: Whose ass would that be sir?
Stephen: The guy who's got his ass in my face, Jacobson.
Hugh: Sir?
Stephen: Yes, Jacobson?
Hugh: How does my ass fit into all of this?
Stephen: It's very simple, Jacobson. You are aware that
your ass is mine?
Hugh: It is sir?
Stephen: Oh yes, your ass is mine, mister. The day you
joined the army, you signed your ass over to me.
Hugh: I get it, sir.
Stephen: Oh you do, do you?
Hugh: This guy wants a piece of your ass, so you're
thinking that, being as my ass is yours, maybe you
could give him a piece of my ass as a way of saving
your ass.
Stephen: Shut your ass, Jacobson. Nobody likes a smart
Alec. Now boy ...
Hugh: Sir?
Stephen: Got your ass with you?
Hugh: Yes sir.
Hugh plops the bag on the desk. Stephen looks into the bag.
Hugh: With respect, sir, don't jerk my ass around.
Stephen: Mm. Nice piece of ass.
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