Episode 15: Roomieus Maximus

Major Characters: Kim Campbell, Charlotte, Goggles, Desmond Collins, John A Macdonald, Pierre Trudeau, John Diefenbaker.

Minor Characters: Drew the Dove, Horatio Sanz, Max Aitken, Tim Horton, Assistant 1, Assistant 2, Scotty, Johnny Wayne, Frank Shuster.

{Interior: Charlotte's apartment. Kim has Charlotte pinned to the floor.}

KIM: So roomie, you want top bunk or bottom bunk?

CHARLOTTE: I've always been partial to the top bunk, more cozy... Wait. What?!

KIM: Come on it'll be great, we'll be able to dish about all the guys we go out with, and do clothing shopping for each other. Let me show you. Goggles! {Goggles appears holding a tape measure and scissors. Kim whispers in Goggles' ear. Goggles nods and produces a screen from hammer space, which obscures Charlotte. Goggles then jumps behind the screen. We hear whizzing and snipping.}

CHARLOTTE: Aah! Watch it with those scissors... No don't... but I like those pants! {Goggles removes the screen to reveal Charlotte wearing a black corset, black pants, and a loose fitting green button-up uniform open and draped over top. Kim puts glasses on Charlotte. Ronald Reagan walks by, peering through the open door.}

REAGAN: Um, ooh, my, well, uh, Nancy do we still have that tickle trunk?

CHARLOTTE: No. No. No. {Looking at Goggles.} You, go read Don Flemming's memoirs. {Drops two large books on Goggles, who slowly lumbers off frame with them. Charlotte looks at Kim.} You, get out of my apartment.

KIM: But I haven't told you the best part... Practice Kissing! {Kim Grabs Charlotte and begins kissing her deeply. Charlotte reacts with shock melting into bliss.}

DESMOND: There is no way that that is happening right now! {Cut to interior: Diefenbaker's.}

JOHN A: A man can dream can't he? Besides what do you think is going on in there? {Cut to apartment Kim is playing chess with Horatio Sanz, who is, as always, giggling. Charlotte and Drew are looking on.}

SANZ: Dude, you sunk my battleship!

KIM: It's your move.

SANZ: Raise! {Begins laughing uproariously. Exterior: Lightheart music. Charlotte's window shatters. Horatio Sanz flies out of the window and plummets to the street.} Geez, all you had to do was ask nice. Come on, Drew, Let's go to Belushi's. {Pencil flies out of window and bounces off Sanz' head. Horatio walks off dejectedly. Cut back to Charlotte's apartment.}

KIM: If I pay for a new window and pick up half the rent can I stay here?

CHARLOTTE: Sure, you can't be any worse than my last roomie slash former head of government. {Kim looks uneasily at Charlotte. Cut to Charlotte's apartment. She is typing furiously at the computer. Indira Ghandi sneaks up behind Charlotte with a pillow raised above her head. Close up on the arms and pillow trembling as though ready to strike. The arms begin to fall and cut back to present scene.} At any rate, we don't have any pillows.

KIM: Fine by me, just so long as I get away from Pierre's cooking. {Cut to Interior: Dining room, Gorffwysfa mansion. Kim is sitting at the table. There is a loud explosion.} Pierre? Are you okay?

PIERRE: I'm fine. I was just making Sushi.

KIM: What kinds were you making?

PIERRE: Some Toro, some Tako, and some Dynamite rolls.

KIM: You know you're not supposed to use actual Dynamite right?

PIERRE: Of course! I just had a little accident pre-heating the grill.

KIM: The grill.

PIERRE: Well, I should have thought that was standard if I'm cooking dinner.

KIM: I'm calling Diefenbaker's for takeout.

PIERRE: Okay, I'll go pick it up. {Screen reads twenty minutes later. Interior: Dining room.Pierre walks in holding a paper bag. The bag bursts into flames.} I had nothing to do with this.

KIM: Certainly no intent at any rate.

PIERRE: I'm sorry. Canned caviar, brie, and crackers again?

KIM: Well, at least you have a mean plan C. {Cut back to Charlotte's apartment.} 

CHARLOTTE: It would appear Pierre Trudeau's legendary intermittent reticience probably has more to do with his lack of fibre than most people would surmise.

KIM: At any rate, to the store. {Grabs Charlotte's arm and drags her off.}

CHARLOTTE: Oh, yikes. Other onomatopea that convey astonishment. {Exterior: Kensington grocery. Kim and Charlotte appear in front. Kim still dragging Charlotte} You know I still retain the ability to walk on my own.

KIM: Yeah, I was just waiting to hear you say that. {Let's go of Charlotte. Both enter store. King of Kensington Theme music is playing.} Ooh, I never could have imagined that we'd have a Canadian celebrity as a grocer!

CHARLOTTE: Me either. {Tim Horton, in hockey gear, yet still wearing a grocer's apron walks up to Charlotte and Kim.}

TIM: Uh, hi. I'm...

CHARLOTTE: Tim Horton.

TIM: Like, it's a pleasure. What are the chances that we'd have the same name?

CHARLOTTE: Yeah that's tedious. Tim, we need a roasting chicken, 3 pounds of potatoes, 3 carrots, a bunch of broccoli, and a small coffee cake.

TIM: Okay, so... {Pregnant pause.}

KIM: Chicken.

TIM: Oh, yeah? {Tim throws down gloves. Kim assumes traditional boxing stance, reaches forward, pulls Tim's jersey over his head and knocks him to the ground with a haymaker.} Right, that's a roaster chicken, three pounds of potatoes, three carrots, a bunch of broccoli, and a coffee cake. {Kim kicks Tim in the side.} Ow! Nice pumps, eh! And a small coffee cake.

CHARLOTTE: Is there any problem that you don't solve with violence?

KIM: Not many, but that's what my superior linguistic skills and wily feminines are for. {Exterior: Diefenbaker's. Interior: Diefenbaker's. John A. is sitting at the bar and Dief is tending.}

JOHN A: No, no, no, Dief, you've got it all wrong! Those are two very attractive, very strong women, and Avril, or Kim as she prefers to be called, is a passionate individual, but I'm certain that any relationship betwixt the twain would be completely platonic.

DIEF: I don't know, here they are surrounded by thousands of eligible bachelors and they've moved in together? That says something to me.

JOHN A: That society kept men and women divided civically up until the midway point of the 20th century and we're paying the price now?{Long pause.}

DIEF: Well, I was going to make a Maggie Sinclair joke, but that works too. {Charlotte and Kim walk in each holding a paper grocery bag.}

KIM: Hi guys, what're you talking about?

JOHN A: Sports!

DIEF: {Simultaneously} Booze!

JOHN A: Booze!

DIEF: {Simultaneously} Sports!

KIM: {To Charlotte.} And you said that they were sophomorically alternating between speculating on whether or not we were in a lesbian relationship and bitching about what a dreadful sausage fest Gorffwysfa is! At any rate, I'll need a can of Beer. {Diefenbaker produces can of beer.}

DIEF: Here you go, one beer, and two straws.

CHARLOTTE: Oh, I don't think straws will be necessary. You see, we're in no way worried about the quality of the head... {Phone rings. Dief picks it up.} on the beer.

DIEF: Yes. Of course. I see. John, watch the bar, I need to lend Delouse the fire extinguisher. {Interior: Desmond's apartment. Diefenbaker is extinguishing a flaming Desmond.} I am continually amazed that you have yet to require skin grafts.

DESMOND: I'm more amazed by the spontaneous combustion.

DIEF: If there's an outside stimuli, it's not really spontaneous. Any way, I've got to go back downstairs and tend to Kim and Charlotte. {Desmond bursts into flames again.} Oh for the love of... {Exterior: Charlotte's apartment. Max Aitken is ominously moving down the hallway and is distracted by the sounds he hears coming from the apartment.}

CHARLOTTE: Listen, just ram it in there.

KIM: The whole thing?

CHARLOTTE: Yes the whole thing, what good will it do half way in?

KIM: But it hasn't had a chance to warm up yet.

CHARLOTTE: It will have plenty of opportunity to warm up.

KIM: Wouldn't it be better laying down?

CHARLOTTE: No! This only works while standing up.

KIM: And we don't need any oil?

CHARLOTTE: No it's own juices will work perfectly fine. Come on! At this rate I'd probably get it done with less effort on my own. {Interior: Charlotte's apartment. They are sliding the roaster chicken upright onto the beer can.}

KIM: I'm sorry, I've just never cooked beer can chicken before.

CHARLOTTE: It's easy, we just open the can, drink a little of the beer, put the chicken on the can and roast as normal. The moisture from the can tenderizes and bastes the bird and the beer flavours the bird. And when it's done we make gravy from the drippings and the beer.

KIM: How'd you ever learn that trick?

CHARLOTTE: A little octopus told me. {There's a knock at the door. Interior: Hallway. Charlotte opens the door to see Max.}

MAX: I was just, passing by, and wanted to tell you, that there were noises, coming from your apartment, that, to the untrained ear, would sound, suspiciously, like two people, engaged in a sex act, but, in actuality, was two people, making, a roasted beer can chicken. Also, I have come to understand, that you have a room mate.

CHARLOTTE: Wherever did you hear that?

MAX: Actually, just now, when you were making, the beer can chicken. Also, a little bird told me. {Pan sideways to reveal Horatio Sanz in a bird suit, and a Barbara Bush wig, which is askew.}

CHARLOTTE: That bird isn't little. Morbidly obese would be a superior description.

MAX: And I, am not, an ethical businessman. Suffice it to say, I'll be wanting, my usual bribe, in fowl form. {Charlotte hands him a chicken drumstick.} Excellent. This, will do nicely, well, I really must be going, I've got to see a man, about a cow...bell. {Charlotte closes door. Interior Charlotte's apartment.}

CHARLOTTE: Once again I am liberated from one note absurdity and mental deficiency. Oh, wait, that didn't happen at all. I had better get to work so that I can forget about the fact that I am drowning in a shallow pool.

KIM: What do you do for money anyway?

CHARLOTTE: I follow irrelevant politicians around in the hopes that they'll say something stupid.

KIM: Ah, a member of her majesty's gutless opposition: The press.

CHARLOTTE: To me it beats slaving my entire life just to be written off as some sad footnote to the disastrous failure of a bloated whiskey voiced backslapper.

DAVID FRUM: {Plummeting sideways.} Lies!

KIM: Better to have taken a shot at immortality, than to sit on the sidelines perpetually fulminating about how incompetent those that do the work of governing are.

CHARLOTTE: Why choose when I can hire a staff of people to do that for me! {Cut to Interior: Diefenbaker's Desmond is sitting reading a menu. Two power suited assistants are flanking Desmond.}

ASSISTANT 1: Sir, I would caution you against gravy, the high cholesterol content is going to hurt you with soccer moms.

ASSISTANT 2: That's true, but you'll do well with NASCAR dads. {Desmond slams down menu.}

DESMOND: Dief! I'll have a pitcher of gravy! {Scotty comes on from side.}

SCOTTY: You can't do it Minister, the arteries won't hold! They canna take the grease!

DESMOND: Dammit man! I said full power!

DIEF: Here you go, One pitcher of gravy. {Dief sets pitcher between Desmond and Scotty. Long pause as Desmond looks at Scotty. Both plunge straws into gravy and begin sucking furiously staring angrily at each other the entire time. Door slamming, Kim skulks in angrily. Sits at bar.}

KIM: That superficial sarcastic plastic grab-ass-tic antisocial bitch!

DESMOND: I hate that dove too. {Pencil bounces off Desmond's head.}

KIM: I'll get my revenge, somehow. {Close up on Kim.} Somehow. {Kim angrily slurps from a glass of gravy.}

{Cut back to Charlotte's apartment. Charlotte is typing furiously at keyboard. Kim is sneaking up behind Charlotte with an aluminum baseball bat.}

CHARLOTTE: You're not about to hit me over the head with a pillow are you?

KIM: No. A bat.

CHARLOTTE: Oh, well that's fine... Wai-{Cut to close up on Kim's body, bloodied bat falls to ground. Drew looks up worriedly at Kim. Close up on Kim looking shocked.}

KIM: What have I done? {Pull away to reveal Kim sitting at table.} I completely ruined my appetite with that gravy. Oh well, I'll just wrap this up for Charlotte for when she gets back and kills me with revenge somehow. I'm sure she'll appreciate it. {Interior: Wayne and Shuster Studio. Charlotte is tied to a chair with a ball gag ala Pulp Fiction. Wayne and Shuster are in yellow cat suits.}

SHUSTER: I don't think we should have tried out this new material. {Wayne kicks Shuster in groin. Shuster collapses to ground.}

WAYNE: Ooh! Right in the Yakuza! {Charlotte begins to try to hop out of studio. Is hit in face with pie.}

SHUSTER: {Still on ground.} Somehow this just feels wrong... but profitable!

{End Credits.}