With El Bencho back in our lives Sunday night, throwing out the first pitch and generally acting El Bencho-ish (I didn’t see him during the post-clinch mayhem, but I imagine he was there, booze in tow), I decided to once again push this bit of Millar-inspired ephemera on an unsuspecting public. It’s funny because this is how he’d really act.
The Great Gatsby
Nick Carraway: So, Gatsby, I hear you’re from the Midwest.
Gatsby: That’s right.
Gatsby: San Francisco.
Nick: I see…
Millar: San Fran? Did you get out to SBC much?
Gatsby: Er… who are you?
Millar [extending hand]: Kevin Millar. First base. World Champion Boston Red Sox. And this is one hell of a party, Mr. Gaston.
Millar: Whatever. [shakes empty beer bottle] Any more of these? I’ve gone dry here.
Gatsby: [Looks around nervously] I’m… not sure.
Millar: [produces small cooler] S’alright. I always bring my own, actually. Along with a couple meat sandwiches. So give me the lowdown on these chicks. What’s up with legs over there?
Gatsby: Eh… that’s Jordan Baker. The golfer.
Millar: Hot damn. I’d let her handle my nine iron. Not a euphemism, by the way.
Gatsby: I really should mill around a bit, I–
Millar: Can you put in a word for me? Tell her I’m into puppies, Beethoven and threesomes. Oh, and that I once ate a bookcase to win a bet. Chicks seem to like that story.
Gatsby: Look, chap, who exactly invited you here?
Millar: You did.
Gatsby: But I don’t even know you.
Millar: Aw hell, I’m totally lyin’. I heard the music and just kinda crawled in through the bathroom window.
Gatsby: You should probably leave, then.
Millar: Will do. Oh, and I dipped my balls in the punch. Just so you know.
* * * * * *
The Red Badge of Courage
by Stephen Crane
Lieutenant: Soldiers, I won’t lie to you. There’s been a lot of ill talk. They say the men of the 304th fight like mule drivers. So I’ve got a plan to reestablish ourselves as credible soldiers. First, we’ll charge the hill. Then–
Millar: Okay, hold on a sec. I’ve got a plan, too.
Lieutenant: What the? I’m giving orders.
Millar: Now, I like your deal with the hill charging and all that, but I was thinking. What if some of us stayed behind and kinda, y’know, rocked out?
Lieutenant: “Rocked out”?
Millar: [gets up, starts dancing, flailing arms madly] You know… dook dook dook.
Lieutenant: [cocks gun].
* * * * * *
Odysseus: Tomorrow, we set sail for Crete, to engage the Minotaur!
Millar: The Mino-what?
Odysseus: The half-man, half-bull beast that has terrorized my homeland.
Millar: Half-man, half-bull?
Odysseus: With large, deadly horns and pointed hooves.
Millar: Deadly horns? Hooves? Aw, f–k that noise, man. Wake me when ya get back.
Odysseus: But… you’re a part of this crew.
Millar: Look, I went in on that cyclops deal and almost got my ass chewed off. Call your buddy Zeus and tell him to wave his arms and zap the motherf–ker. I got no time for it.
Odysseus: You disappoint me, oh blonde one.
Millar: That’s life, buddy. [Grabs The Sporting News.] I’ll be in the can.