YE OLDE TAVERN. SET IN THE MIDDLE AGES.
HENRY IS SITTING AT A BENCH IN THE TAVERN. A BLOODED AXE SITS BESIDE HIM. HE IS SHAKING HIS HEAD.
HENRY: (speaking out loud)
Twenty a day. That's how many I send into the afterlife. What sort of inhumane animal am I?
ANOTHER MAN WITH A BLOODED AXE (JOE) WALKS OVER TO HIM. HE IS WHISTLING.
JOE:
Well, if it isn't dark cloud himself, crying into his pint. Pressure too much for you, ya big jessie.
HENRY:
You're always so pissing upbeat? You're one twisted lummox.
JOE:
You know what your problem is? You take your work home with you. Me, I've got full time employment, a roof over my head and I enjoy the perks that regular decapitation brings.
HENRY:
Perks? Mental torture, our arms stout like baboons. Please enlighten me Joe.
JOE:
Ours is a traumatic industry Henry. We need an outlet for the horrors we witness. With you its quaffing ale every night until you become void. I, on the other hand, like to have my pleasure receptors overflowing with euphoria.
HENRY:
Are you on female execution detail this week, by any chance?
JOE:
That I am Henry, that I am. I chopped quite a few tasty ones today. This beauty in particular, well I done a neat cut as always. I was just about to toss her remains into the pit for burning and, you know, one thing led to another.
HENRY:
You sick, vile strumpet's abortion. Where was her head?
JOE:
In the basket. She was still warm and you don't look at the mantelpiece..
HENRY:
.. That's 'cos there wasn't a f**king mantelpiece to look at in the first place. Jesus, Joe. Is this what you're all smiles for?
JOE:
Like I said, perks. Look at you, you're a mess, you're depressed. I'm on cloud nine mate. Give it a go Henry. It might bring you out of your slump.
HENRY:
I couldn't. I really couldn't. The poor buggers staring at you from the basket and you're doing the business on their torso.
JOE:
No, no, no. You don't glance at the head. I made that mistake back in the early days.
HENRY:
Horseshit, early days! You're six months out of your apprenticeship and you're bragging like Tony 'Thousand Heads' Magee.
JOE:
Henry, you listen to me and you listen good. I beheaded this sweetheart one day, she'd a face like an angel but a tad on the plump side. Anyway, I'm giving it to her near the pit, I look down to the flab and I happen to peek at her face, as a reminder like, lying in the basket and..
HENRY:
And?
JOE:
And, I went as limp as a hangman's rope. Never again. You just don't get involved. Keep an emotional detachment as well as the obvious physical one, of course.
SHERIFF WALKS INTO ALE HOUSE.
SHERIFF:
Who's been chopping the birds this week?
JOE:
Me Sheriff, why?
SHERIFF:
Word on the street is they're loaded with syphilis, hope you've no open wounds.
JOE SPITS OUT HIS ALE.
