INT. MASSAGE PARLOUR – DAY
A MASSUESE BUFFS HER NAILS. A MAN ENTERS. HE HAS NO SKIN.
MAN:
Good day.
MASSEUSE:
(HORRIFIED) Oh, God! I'll call an ambulance!
MAN:
Whatever for?
MASSEUSE:
The accident!
MAN:
Accident? Is something the matter with my Volvo?
HE RUSHES TO LOOK OUT THE WINDOW.
MAN (CONT):
Not a scratch! I assume this your idea of a joke, young lady?
MASSEUSE:
No, I…
MAN:
...please can we get to business?
MASSEUSE:
You need a doctor!
MAN:
Pish and tish - a relaxing rubdown is all the treatment I need.
MASSEUSE:
I… I can't do that.
MAN:
Is this not a unisex establishment?
MASSEUSE:
It is, but…
MAN:
…so it's my ethnicity then! How would you like it if I judged you by the colour of your skin?
MASSEUSE:
But you don't have any…
MAN:
…enough! I insist on a massage post haste!
CUT TO:
INT. TREATMENT ROOM – DAY
THE MAN LAYS FACE DOWN ON A MASSAGE BED, HIS MODESTY COVERED BY A TOWEL. THE DISGUSTED MASSEUSE RUBS OIL INTO HER HANDS.
MASSEUSE:
You're sure about this choice of oil? Therapeutic lavender?
MAN:
Yes.
MASSEUSE:
Infused with zest of lemon?
MAN:
(SIGH) Must we debate each and every detail?
MASSEUSE:
(CONCEEDING) Okay then.
SHE TENTATIVELY PLACES A HAND ON HIS BACK. HE LET'S OUT AN ALMIGHTY SCREAM.
MASSEUSE:
I'm sorry! I'm sorry!
MAN:
I fail to see why - I can hardly blame you for forgetting to pay the parking meter!