Sam, don’t help!

[A small, quiet room, containing a few chairs and a table at which an Iranian man is seated. A door opens, and two Anglos enter.]

John (sitting at table, reaching across to Hassan): I’d like to thank you for agreeing to see me today.

Hassan (shaking hands with John): It is my hope that we can resolve this issue between us… uh… who is this gentleman with you?

John: Oh… um… that’s Sam.

Hassan: I don’t understand… why is he here?

John: Well, he sort of insisted. Just got in the car when I was heading over.

Sam: Listen, Hadgi—

Hassan: My name is Hassan, actually…

Sam: When you mess with John, here, you mess with me! Got it?

John: Sam, please. You promised.

Sam: Just watchin’ your six, Johnny.

John: I appreciate it, but it might help if you were to sit down and try to be pleasant.

[Sam sits, folds his arms, scowls at Hassan.]

John: Now, as I understand it, you feel that some of my crew were on your property…

Hassan: Your people are everywhere, John. If I don’t take a stand, no one’s going to respect my property. I mean, are they?

John: I understand that, old chap, and you’re perfectly right about that. It’s just that my crew are adamant that they did respect your property and the fellows you have hadn’t—

Sam: Hand ‘em over, ragtop! We’re not telling you again! Next time we’re talking with knuckles, dig?

Hassan: Who is this man?

John: Sam, please, this isn’t constructive!

Sam: You want constructive? How about I use my boot to construct a shoeshine box out of his ass?

Hassan (rising): I feel that we are finished here…

John: Hassan, please, wait! Sam, for the love of God, shut up! You’re not helping!

Sam (sitting, fuming): Cripes, John, you didn’t actually check your nuts at the door, did you?

Hassan (sitting again): Perhaps the dialog would be more fruitful if your friend were to wait in your car.

Sam: Plenty fruity already, I’d say.

John: Sam, I’m trying to get my boys home to their families. Please. I appreciate your support, but it’s not your place to involve yourself.

Sam: I don’t need your permission anymore, Your Majesty. For nothing. Remember that.

John: Yes, how could I possibly forget. You make me watch The Patriot every time I come over.

Sam: Masterpiece of historical accuracy.

Hassan: Perhaps you gentlemen could first come to a consensus and inform me when you’re ready to talk with one voice.

Sam: We’re ready to talk anytime you like, towel boy! Just ask your neighbours!

[Hassan leaves.]

Sam: Are you just gonna let him treat you like that? That guy has no respect for you, you pipsqueak! No respect for you at all.

John: I wonder why.

Tune in next time when Sam borrows billions of dollars from Chang and Kenji to kick Hassan’s ass, same stupid time, same stupid channel!