A Conversation Between Thomas Jefferson, Albert Einstein and Bob Dylan

TJ: What’s the game, Al?

AE (shuffling): Seven card stud, nothing wild. Dollar ante.

(Everyone throws in a chip, Jefferson cuts the deck, and Einstein deals each player two cards face down and one face up.)

BD (throws in a chip): I’ll bet five.

TJ: See your five…and five more.

AE: I call….

(Einstein throws in his chips and deals each player one more card face up)

BD (coughing uncontrolably): I’m out.

AE: Those fucking things are gonna kill you, Bob.

BD: Bitch, I told you, I got a fucking cold.

AE: Yeah, well those cancer sticks ain’t helping you none.

TJ: Check.

AE: Me too.

(Einstein deals another face up card to himself and Jefferson)

BD (getting up from table): I’m gettin’ a drink, anybody else want anything?

TJ: Can you make me a carbomb?

BD: I don’t know how to make a carbomb.

TJ: Well what do you know how to make? (to Einstein): I’ll bet ten.

AE (throwing his cards in): Fuck it.

BD: I know how to make a kamikaze.

(Jefferson sweeps the pot chips over to him and begins to stack them)

TJ: What’s in a kamikaze?

BD: Vodka, triple sec, and lime juice.

AE: I don’t have any triple sec.

BD: Hmmm. I could run and get some?

AE: Nah, the liquor stores close at 8 out here.

(All three men are quiet as they contemplate the situation)

TJ: Don’t you hate that?

AE (to Jefferson): Don’t…

BD: Hate what?

TJ (grinning): Uncomfortable silences.

AE (throwing a $5 chip at Jefferson): Dude, can you sometime maybe go for like five minutes without quoting Pulp Fiction?

TJ (throwing chip back at Einstein, laughing): Bitch, you know you love it!

AE: Look, do you ladies wanna fuck around all night or do you wanna play some cards here?

TJ: Just bring the vodka over, Bob. It’s your deal.

(Dylan comes back to the table carrying a large bottle of Smirnoff)

BD: Anybody got any weed?

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