IAN: So, what do you think?

MICKEY: What are these?

IAN: They're the chairs you wanted.

MICKEY: Was I not clear? Where the fuck are the Chiavari chairs?

BROOKS: These are the Chiavaris.

MICKEY: You shut the fuck up. You, I could not have been more specific. I asked you to find me a caterer who had the gold Chiavaris with the white cushions. You had one job.

BROOKS: Uh, that was my fault, I thought we had those, but I was mistaken.

IAN: But I-I think that any of these could work -

MICKEY: God damn it, why does everything always have to suck? This is my fucking wedding day! For one day. For one day can I have the gold Chiavaris with the white cushions?!

[Chair pieces clattering]

BROOKS: I mean, I-I can call around

MICKEY: I thought I told you to shut the fuck up! Are you retarded?

BROOKES: Uh

MICKEY: Huh, Brooks? Answer me!

BROOKES: Uh, yes.

MICKEY: Yes, you're Retarded!

BROOKES: I'm Retarded.

MICKEY: Which is why we had the fucking mix-up!... I'm sorry.

[Chair piece clatters]

MICKEY: This is my fault. I put too much on your plate.

Edit

Pub: 04 Apr 2023 02:20 UTC

Edit: 29 Oct 2025 23:58 UTC

Views: 24