"I'm So Humble" 🅴

It’s the weekend, two men are at a bar they frequent often. Both are very attractive, but Jack is the prettier, model type.

Harry: You need to tone it down tonight, Jack.

Jack: “Bar none, I am the most humble-est.”

Harry: You gotta’ stop this. You are not humble, and we’re not going to get any ladies tonight if you keep up your shit.

Jack: Harry, I’m “number one at the top of the humble list.”

Harry rolls his eyes. Two women approach the bar and motion/head nod toward the two men.

Harry: Hello. I’m Harry and this is my friend, Jack.

Erin: Can you settle a bet for us?

Jill: (quickly) Of course they will. 

Harry: Of course we will.  

Erin: Which is better? Apple or Pumpkin pie? 

Jack: That is not what I thought you’d ask. And neither, I can tell you “my apple crumble is by far the most crumble-est.”

Jill: So is that a vote for apple?

Harry: Pumpkin, but it has to have a little bourbon for that smoky factor.

Erin: That sounds really good.

Jack: Don’t flatter yourself. It’s okay. You think it tastes a lot better than it is. In order to get people to eat your pie, the trick is to “act like it tastes bad outta humbleness.”

Harry: JACK. Cut…this…bullshit...

Jill: (to Harry) Your friend always like this?

Jack: “The thing about me that’s so impressive…”

Erin: Oh boy. Can’t wait to continue this conversation.

Jack: “Is how infrequently I mention all of my successes”

Harry: Ladies, I’m sorry. Jack can be a little self-centered, but tonight he’s something else.

Jill: We came over here because you both look like models. I don’t know about Erin, but I may be regretting saying yes to this one.

Jack: “poo-poo.” (gives them a dismissive hand gesture based on the lyric “I poo-poo when girls say that I should model”)

Erin: And decent dudes, but your friend… (to Harry) Harry is it?... is on another plane of existence.

Harry: We can ignore him.

Jill is intrigued by Jack and continues asking him questions. Lights dim on Erin and Harry who are continuing their conversation silently.

Jill: So you like really think you’re the shit?

Jack: It’s not even a question. I am the shit. “My belly’s full from all the pride I swallow.”

Jill: I bet it is. Probably why you’re so skinny too. (pats his abs) Belly full all the time so you don’t have to eat.

Jack: Don’t get me wrong though. I’m a motherfucking gentleman.

Jill: How do you mean?

Jack: “I’m the most courteous-bittable, hospitable / reverential, normal-ary Arnold Schwarzen-orgaray” type of guy that you’ll ever meet.

Jill: This is so intriguing. You are not like anyone I’ve ever met at a bar before.

Jack: Am I like anyone you’ve met before, period?

Jill: No, I can’t say that anyone comes close. Well maybe my ex, Oliver. He was more of a prick than you seem to be so far. You seem like a nice guy who’s too into himself.

Jack: Thanks, but “I hate compliments.” I “put ‘em in the mortuary” bin of my mind. So I won’t remember you even complimented me. You have to believe that really “I’m so ordinary.”

Jill: “That it’s truly quite extraordinary.” So between you and Harry, who should I buy a drink?

Jack: “It’s not a competition, but I’m winnin’.”

Jill: I like your confidence. What do you have in that cup?

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