Mel Gibson and LeBron James Get Coffee
At the suggestion of their agents, LeBron James and Mel Gibson met in downtown Miami to have coffee and discuss their recent struggles with public opinion. The following is a transcript of that meeting.
Mel Gibson enters wearing a cap and sunglasses. He sees LeBron standing by the coffee bar and walks over.
Mel: Oh, hey, LeBron James, right? I’m…(quietly, under his breath) Mel Gibson.
LeBron: Hey, Mel! What’s up! You were in Lethal Weapon! That’s awesome.
Mel: Yeah, just keep your voice down, would you? People tend to get really angry when they see me. Or hear me. Or even just hear my name…
LeBron: I gotcha man, no problem. People burned my jersey, I know where you’re coming from.
Mel: Great, thanks. I gotta say, I’m really surprised you agreed to meet me. Can I ask why you don’t, you know, hate my guts?
LeBron: What do you mean?
Mel: Well, what I did. The things I said. It’s in all the newspapers.
LeBron: Oh, man, if the articles aren’t about me I don’t even read ‘em. I don’t have any idea what you- unless, wait. You’re not in The Last Airbender, are you? I hear that thing’s real bad.
LeBron: Oh, then we’re cool, man.
A Barista approaches.
LeBron: I’ll have a venti caramel vanilla frappuccino with extra whip cream, sprinkles, and double mocha sauce.
Mel: Wow, LeBron, that’s a hell of an order. Isn’t that a little much?
LeBron: A little much is how I roll, Mel.
Barista: And what’s your name?
LeBron: King James.
Barista: …I’ll just write James, should be fine-
LeBron: No, it’s King James.
Barista: OK…and for you, sir?
Mel: I’ll just take a regular coffee.
Barista: Should I leave room for milk or do you want it black?
Mel: Oh God no, not black. Definitely not black. Plenty of milk.
Barista: Alright…and your name?
Mel: I’d rather not say.
Barista: Sir, we need a name so we can call you when your drink is ready.
Mel: Murdoch. My name is Murdoch.
Barista: Great. Murdoch it is. (To himself, as he writes down the order…) I’m getting too old for this shit.
Minutes later. They’ve taken their seats and Mel returns with the coffees.
Mel: So, rough weekend, huh? I saw that letter the Cavs owner wrote about you.
LeBron: That was nothing. He sent me the unedited version. There was some dark stuff in there, man. He called me a Nazi.
Mel: Well, Nazis get a bad rap sometimes…
LeBron: And I’m pretty sure the letter was written in poop. Like actual human poop. Or dog at least…
Mel: I’ve gotten those. It really hurts inside. It’s been tough for me too, LeBron…
LeBron: King James.
Mel: …King James. I haven’t had a weekend this bad since Bird On a Wire. I mean, who knew one little tape recorder could cause so much trouble?
LeBron: Well, two, actually.
LeBron: Two recorders. The one that was taping when you called that cop lady “Sugar Tits” and said all the stuff about the Jews? Then the other when you threatened to beat your wife and said she’d get raped by the, well…you know…
LeBron: I don’t. But I saw your face on the cover of this one on the table, with these devil horns and whatnot drawn on it, so I figured I’d page through. You a fucked up mothafucker, Mel Gibson.
Mel: I know. Believe me, I know. Sorry about the whole ‘N’ word thing…
LeBron: Hey, man, it’s OK. We all make mistakes. We’re allowed to have a little lapse in judgment here and there. Destroy a fanbase on national TV, get every basketball fan in the world to hate you. Happens to all of us.
Mel: Did you really not call the Cavs before you announced it on TV?
LeBron: Come on, everybody’s ripping me on that! No, I didn’t call. It’s like this, do you call your girlfriend to tell her you’re breaking up with her before you start dating someone else? No way-
Mel: Yes, you do.
LeBron: You do?!
Mel: Believe me, King James, I’m awful to my girlfriends, like, unfathomably awful, and I still call them to break it off.
LeBron: Wow. That really makes me think, Mel.
Mel: But, hey, don’t be hard on yourself. I will say that what you’ve chosen to wear to today is completely tasteful and not at all whoreish. That’s more than most people can manage.
LeBron: Ah, thanks man. It’s a pretty weird compliment, but I’ll take it. So what are we gonna do with ourselves? I can’t ever go home to Akron…
Mel: I can’t go pretty much anywhere…
LeBron: My fans don’t love me anymore…
LeBron: I don’t even like Chris Bosh or Dwayne Wade all that much. I mean, they totally refuse to call me “King.”
Mel: I don’t like them either. But for…a different reason.
LeBron: You and me gotta team up. Start our own thing together.
Mel: Doing what?
LeBron: I don’t know…shooting hoops, making movies, solving crimes? I’ll be your new Danny Glover.
Mel: This sounds good! I could do that. I mean, it’s not like I gotta a lot of other offers. What do we call ourselves?
LeBron: I don’t know. King James hanging out with someone over the hill who can’t shoot and constantly has head up his own ass? Why don’t we call ourselves…the Cleveland Cavaliers?
Mel: Wow. That’s cold, man. That’s cold.