& __Tomkitt, Amanda Green, & David Lindsay-Abaire (No response.) I thought maybe we should talk. Sort things out? (ROB is disoriented/angry. DICK and BARRY's ears perk up) ROB. What things? IAN. Ten phone calls a night, hanging around outside my house... ROB. I've stopped all that now. IAN. You were there this morning. (Moves in closer.) Usually this kind of obsessive acting out signifies a bigger problem. I can help if you'd like. Conflict resolution is my job. ROB. There's nothing to resolve. IAN, (Sines) That's exactly what Kurt Cobain said. (To BARRY) handled his intervention. BARRY. Oh yeah? How‘d that work out for ya? (IANS smile cracks just litle, He turns back to ROB.) TAN, Look, I know better than anyone how special Laura is. But !d like to believe that ifshe decided she didn't want to see me anymore, Yd respect her decision. Know what I'm saying, Robbo? ROB. Yeah, (The bell on the door jingles as a customer enters.) TAN. So shall we leave it at that then? (ROB glares, sure of himself, righteous. Slasher guitar music kicks jn a la “Barracuda” or “Welcome to the Jungle.” ROB advances menacingly toward TAN.) #16: CONFLICT RESOLUTION ROB. (Sings) DICK. AAAAAAAAA-AH! —_Donttdo it Rob! ROB. (To IAN) LEAVE TOWN! LEAVE THE COUNTRY! LITTLE BITCH, YOU'RE GONNA FEEL MY RAGE! YOU'RE GONNA LOOK BACK ATTEN TAN. PHONE CALLS A NIGHT Aaaaaah! AS A MOTHERFUCKING GOLDEN AGE! ‘YOU'LL BE HOME TO THE MAGGOTS AND FLEAS I'M GOING TO BRING YOU TO YOUR SHA-NA-NA-NA-NA-NA. KNEES KNEES! YOUR SHA-NA-NA-NA-NA-NA KNEES! High Fidelity 6 (BLACKOUT. Lights up. CUT TO FANTASY #2.) TAN. Know what I'm saying, Robbo? ROB. Yeah. (The bell on the door jingles as a customer enters.) TAN. So shall we leave it at that then? ROB/BARRY/DICK. HERE'S OUR CONFLICT RESOLUTION! TIME FOR THE FINAL SOLUTION! DICK. ’ GONNA PUNISH YOUR DOUGHY WHITE BODY! WITH A TASTE OF MY ALL. HAAAAIIIT KARATE! BARRY. YOU'VE BREATHED YOUR LAST BREATH SUCKA ROB. RESOLVE THIS CONFLICT ROB/ BARRY / DICK. MOTHER-FUCKAH! (BLACKOUT. Lights up. CUT TO FANTASY #3) TAN. Know what I'm saying, Robbo? ROB. Yeah, (The bell on the door jingles as a customer enters.) IAN, So shalll we leave it at that then? ROB, How ‘bout we leave it at this? (ROB shoots IAN.) ROB. TMSO TIRED OF HEARING YOUR MOUTH RUN POPPED A CAP ON YOUR ASS, NOW YOU'RE DONE SON BARRY, ATTENTION SHOPPERS! THERE'S BLOOD ON THE FLO’ DICK. WE GOT A ONE EIGHT SEVEN ON AISLE FO’ ROB. NOW YOU KNOW HOW MUCH YOUR LIFE IS WORTH THIS WAS YOUR ROB/ BARRY / DICK. HIPSTER. LAST REAL RECORD STORE ONEARTH = WHAT EARTH EARTH EARTH WHAT WHAT WHAT