Paul's Apartment at 4 a.m.

(Telephone rings. Paul rolls over in bed and curses loudly through pillow. Answering machine picks up)

Hello? Dude? Hello?

(long pause)

Dude?

(long pause)

Hey, c'mon man! Pick up the phone!

(long pause)

C'mon Steve, dude, pick up the phone.

(long pause)

Are you mad at me, Steve?

Hey Steve, it's, like, totall–

(clicking sound as answering machine cuts off message)

(Telephone rings. Paul rolls over in bed, blindly picks up thick Javascript book on floor, tosses in general direction of telephone, which is in the other room. Effort is utterly pathetic, as Paul is sleepy and his arms flail during the attempt, like a small girl throwing a medicine ball. Paul rolls over in bed and curses. Answering machine picks up)

DUDE! Dude, Steve! Man, what did I do?

(Paul groans, begins mumbling profanity, pulls pillow over head)

Why'd you hang up on me, Steve? Why does your answering machine message sound so weird? That doesn't sound like you at all, dude. What's goin' on? Steve? Dude? STEVE! DUDE!?!

(long pause)

Dude, are you asleep?

(Paul smiles approvingly, assuming "hey dude" guy has been enlightened)

Okay man, I guess maybe you're asleep. I'll try back in a while.

(Paul makes happy sleepy sounds, rolls over in bed and goes back to sleep)

Um, dude?

(Paul yells dirty, dirty words of the upmost dirty-like nature, clumsily throws pillow into blinds, nearly tearing them off the window)

Hey Steve, dude, I'm back. Pick up, dude.

(Paul goes to phone sleepily, picks it up)

Paul: Hello, this is Steve.

Dude?

Paul: No, Steve.

Dude, why didn't you pick up the phone?

Paul: Because I hate you. I'm Steve and I hate you. Get bent.

Dude, you're not Steve!

Paul: My God, I do believe you're a genius. Crossword puzzles written in Latin must be a breeze for you. Piss off.

(Paul hangs up phone, goes back to bed)

(Telephone rings. Paul contemplates how nice hell must be this time of year, and how Satan likely wouldn't call him quite so often. Answering machine picks up)

Man, you're a jerk! I should kick your ass, man. I'm just tryin' to talk to Steve, man. Steve's the man! So I'm trying to talk to Steve the man, and you're all li–

(Message cut off as Paul rips telephone cord from wall)