A man named Peyton walks into a comedy club in New York City. He has fierce eyes and speaks with a British accent. He is young and rugged and is wearing a black leather coat and sunglasses, even though it is nighttime. He takes a seat inside next to a man of smaller stature, also wearing a black leather jacket.

Peyton: Glad you could make it, Marc.
Marc: (manages a feeble smile.) Yea. Thanks.
Peyton: ( Pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.) Smoke?
Marc. No thanks. I’m trying to quit.
Peyton: Commendable, isn’t it? Wish I could say the same. (Lights his cigarette. He watches the smoke spiral into the air above him.) Friday night. My favorite. Don’t you think so, Marc?
Marc: Yea, yea I do. It’s a good time.
Waitress: (Coming to their table with a pad and pencil.) Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to put that out. There’s no smoking in here.
Peyton: (Looks at her for a good minute, then extinguishes his cigarette.) Sorry, miss. I didn’t know.
Waitress: What would you like to drink tonight?
Peyton: (looks at Marc.) You first, mate.
Marc: Um, I’ll go for the...uh…how about some water?
Waitress: (writing) Water…ok…and for you?
Peyton: Nothing, dear. I’m not thirsty.
Waitress: Sir, there’s a two drink minimum-
Peyton: I said, I’m not thirsty.
(Waitress sighs and walks away. The lights dim, and a comedian walks out on stage. The Manager of the club walks up to Peyton and taps him on the shoulder.)
Manager: (In a harsh whisper.) Sir, there’s a two drink minimum, and if you can’t comprehend that then I will have to remove you from the premises.
Peyton: I told that nice young lady I wasn’t thirsty.
Manager: I don’t give two damns what you are! Now buy a drink or leave.
Peyton: Now now, don’t you think you’re causing a scene? Look over there, people are starting to notice. (Pause.) You see that man over there? With his wife? (Points to a man sitting a few tables over, laughing at the comedian’s joke.)
Manager: Yes, I see him, but that has nothing to—
Peyton: Do you want to get sued?
Manager: Excuse me?
Peyton: Listen to me. Go over there and throw his drink on the floor.
Manager: You’re absolutely insane! (Begins to raise his voice.) Get the hell out of here! Get the hell out, and don’t you dare come back! And take your mute friend with you!
(Security guards come and grab Peyton and Marc by the arms. Peyton complies without a fight, and Marc follows his lead. Peyton laughs as the guards bring him and Marc outside.)
Guard: You think this is a joke, wise ass?
Peyton: No, mate, I don’t.
Guard: I’m not your goddamn “mate,” understand? (Punches Peyton in the stomach.) Now get the hell out of here, you got that, “mate?” (Looks to the other guard and laughs. The two go back inside the club.)

( Peyton regains his breath, turns and walks away. Marc runs to catch up. They are overwhelmed by masses of people. They begin to walk quickly.)
Marc: Peyton, what were you talking about in there?
Peyton: Don’t ask me.
Marc: But you got us kicked out! Doesn’t that bother you?
Peyton: Does it look like it bothers me?
Marc: Maybe you should be nicer to people—
Peyton: Stop talking.
Marc: No, listen—
Peyton: I said, shut the hell up! (Stops walking abruptly.) Over there. By that clothing store.
Marc: What? What is it?
Peyton: Those two girls standing there, looking around.
Marc: Yea, what about them?
Peyton: Well, do you see those four guys standing at that corner over there?
Marc: Yea, yea I seem them too.
Peyton: Let’s go. (Starts running and feverishly looking around.)
Marc:(Following) Go where! Where are we—
(Peyton runs in the middle of the street to a stopped taxi. He opens the door to the driver’s side and pulls out a gun.) Get out! Get the fuck out of the car, now! (To Marc.) Get in, get in! (The driver and two people scramble out of the taxi. Peyton motions for Marc to get in the driver’s seat as he takes the passenger side.)
Marc: What are we doing? Why do you have a gun? Don’t shoot me, Peyton! Please!
Peyton: If you shut the hell up and do what I say you’ll live. Now drive. (Marc obeys.) Keep going. Don’t slow down.
Marc: I have to, those guys we saw at the corner are crossing—
Peyton: (With gun in hand) I said, don’t slow down! Keep driving!
Marc: I’m going to hit them! (slams on brakes.)
Peyton: God dammit, Marc! (Punches Marc in the stomach, then reaches over and puts his own foot on the gas. The car hits the four men crossing the street and blood splatters across the windshield. Marc screams and covers his eyes. The car does not slow down.)
Marc: (Taking the wheel again and struggling to drive.) You killed them! You killed them! Peyton, you’re crazy! You’re insane...(voice is muffled by sobs.) They’re dead…oh my god, they’re dead!
Peyton: (Sits back in his seat.) Turn the windshield wipers on. (Marc obeys. The blood is wiped away from the glass.) OK. Now make this right turn. Stop. Stop right here. (Peyton gets out of the car. Marc is unable to move. He is sitting in the driver’s seat sobbing. Peyton walks over and opens his door.) Get out. Come on, get up. (Marc does so, after some hesitation.)
Marc: (Wiping tears away.) Why’d you do that, Peyton? Why?
Peyton: (Looks at him for a good minute. With disgust. ) Look at you. Blubbering like the day God made you. Pull yourself together! (Slaps Marc across the face. Marc stops sobbing and Peyton’s voice softens.) Come on now, come on. It’s not so bad. Come on. I’ll buy you something to eat. (They walk into a convenience store, where Peyton picks up some chips and soda. Then they begin to walk to Peyton’s apartment.)
Marc: Can you tell me one thing, Peyton? And I promise I’ll never ask it again.
Peyton: Fine. What is it?
Marc: Why did you do it?
Peyton: They were gonna rape those girls, Marc. I simply did them a favor.
Marc: How’d you know?
Peyton: Let’s play a game. It’s called no talking until we get home. Now drink up, mate. You had a long day.
(The two reach Peyton’s apartment, which is a dilapidated building formerly used as a warehouse. They ride in a freight elevator, and walk down a hall to Peyton’s door. The walls are stained and a pungent odor saturates the place. Bare bulbs hang from the ceiling.)
Peyton: (Opening door.) Here we are then.
Marc: Nice place.
Peyton: Thanks. Make yourself at home. (While Peyton is not watching, Mark takes out a piece of paper from his pocket and looks at it, then quickly puts it back.)
Marc: Mind if I watch TV?
Peyton: Not at all. (Turns on TV and goes to wash up. Marc sits on a couch.)
Tv newscaster: An owner of a popular New York comedy club is being investigated tonight after a patron mysteriously died while watching a show. Witnesses say the man, a 35 year old business manager, showed no signs of illness when he entered the club, but appeared weak after drinking the beer he had ordered. Initial blood tests showed a strange substance in his blood, but only an autopsy will confirm the allegations of a poisoned drink…
Marc: Peyton! Peyton! Are you hearing this?!
Peyton: ( Returning from bathroom. Lights a cigarette.) Dumb bastard. I told him.
Marc: How? How did you—
Peyton: You promised you’d only ask me once.
Marc: I know, but—
Peyton: I respect a man who keeps his promises. ( Marc is dumbfounded. Peyton walks into the bedroom to get changed. After a few minutes, Peyton comes up behind him.) I know you feel bad.
Marc: (Jumps.) You scared me.
Peyton: You’re a good man. You’ll do well.
Marc:(Closes his eyes, breathes deeply, and opens them again) I took someone’s life.
Peyton: Would you have rather them fulfill their intentions?
Marc: (Silent for a moment.) You aren’t God.
Peyton: (With a sly smile.) Oh, but I do a good job of playing him, don’t I, mate? I went to acting school, you know.
Marc: (Gets up and goes to the window where the blinds are drawn. He pulls them up, and looks out the window and watches as two dogs fight in an alley.) Do you think they’ll come for us?
Peyton: No.
Marc: How do you know?
Peyton:(Looks at him sharply.) I told you not to—
Marc: Ask you that. Sorry.
Peyton: (after a pause.) You got the bed tonight, I got the couch.
Marc: Alright.