Radical Actor

The Last Shot

2012-01-01T15:02:00.001-08:00

INT. FILM SET

CLIFFORD BROCK sits on a director's chair. A director's

finder hangs on a string wrapped around his neck. He appears

to be lost in thought, distracted, a bit wild-eyed. GRETCHEN

WERNER walks in with a script in hand, a clip board, wearing

glasses.

GRETCHEN WERNER

Mr. Brock?

No response.

GRETCHEN WERNER

Mr. Brock?

No response.

GRETCHEN WERNER

I think people are waiting.

CLIFFORD BROCK

Let them wait. Things are

flowering. We wait for radiance,

for change to flower.

GRETCHEN WERNER

Are you thinking of changing

something in the script again?

CLIFFORD BROCK

Hillary, it's Hillary, right?

GRETCHEN WERNER

No. Actually it is Gretchen.

CLIFFORD BROCK

Well you see, that is what I mean.

It should be Hillary. What are you

doing with a name like Gretchen?

GRETCHEN WERNER

My parents gave it to me.

CLIFFORD BROCK

Parents always fuck things up.

GRETCHEN WERNER

I sort of like Gretchen.

Clifford pops off his director's chair.

CLIFFORD BROCK

Sort of? That's not good enough.

It can be better. Things can never

be good enough. They can always be

better. But we get lazy. We stop

thinking.

GRETCHEN WERNER

Does this mean you are changing the

script again? Because I would like

to know before we start shooting.

CLIFFORD BROCK

Why? Change is easy. Change means

nothing. What is hard is to

enhance, refine, to augment.

GRETCHEN WERNER

How are we augmenting?

Clifford starts to stare at Gretchen and move closer to her.

CLIFFORD BROCK

I can see a Hillary hiding inside

that you, trying to work its way

out. It hungers to come out of

that shell of a Gretchen. And

explode. There are great things

waiting for that Hillary and

Gretchen is stopping her.

At this point they are very close. Gretchen, though

uncomfortable and feeling awkward, is nonetheless taken in by

Clifford. At this point, RONNIE KNOX rushes in.

RONNIE KNOX

Are you ready? Are you ready?

CLIFFORD BROCK

Ready? Yes. No. I am rethinking.

RONNIE KNOX

We cannot afford to rethink. You

have to be ready to roll. To roll.

Like...now.

CLIFFORD BROCK

It's all wrong. It doesn't feel

right.

RONNIE KNOX

We do not have time for feeling

anything, Clifford. We have to

wrap. Today.

Kelly King is downstairs, Clifford.

And she's in a twit because the

studio has its auditor on site.

CLIFFORD BROCK

There's no murder.

RONNIE KNOX

(ignoring Clifford)

So we need to shoot the last shot

and finally finish the fucker.

CLIFFORD BROCK

Think about what it would be like

if there was no murder.

RONNIE KNOX

Think about what? No murder what?

What are you talking about?

CLIFFORD BROCK

We do not shoot a murder. We show

the audience that there was no

murder. We can make that change,

can't we Gretchen?

GRETCHEN WERNER

I can do what ever you want.

RONNIE KNOX

No murder. Clifford, this is the

first scene in the movie. We are

shooting the first scene last. If

you change the first scene,

everything changes.

CLIFFORD BROCK

Isn't that brilliant.

RONNIE KNOX

No. It's idiotic. You are

deranged and having one of your

mind flips. We do not have time

for flip flops, Clifford. Kelly

King is on set. She knows the

script. You can't change it.

CLIFFORD BROCK

I wrote it. I can change it. It's

in my contract. Can't I Gretchen?

GRETCHEN WERNER

Well, you have been changing a lot

as you can see.

Gretchen holds up the script which is filled with yellow

sheets and clipped pages representing dozens of changes.

RONNIE KNOX

You are seeking support from the

fucking script supervisor. (to

Gretchen) Can you please leave?

CLIFFORD BROCK

Stay where you are Ms.....

GRETCHEN WERNER

Werner. Gretchen Werner.

CLIFFORD BROCK

Your German?

GRETCHEN WERNER

My father....

RONNIE KNOX

Oh for chrissake, who gives a shit

about her. Are you fucking the

script supervisor?

CLIFFORD BROCK

Gretchen's personal life is none of

your business. Tell her Gretchen?

GRETCHEN WERNER

Ms. Knox, we are not....

CLIFFORD BROCK

Don't feel like you have to succumb

to her interrogation. Gretchen and

I have a relationship.

GRETCHEN WERNER

Well, a professional one.

CLIFFORD BROCK

You tell her, Gretchen. Let the

production manager have it.

RONNIE KNOX

Gretchen, can you please give me a

moment alone.

Gretchen leaves.

INT. DRESSING ROOM

GWEN BARLOW and UNA FRIPP sit in a holding area.

GWEN BARLOW

He's brilliant.

UNA FRIPP

How can you tell?

GWEN BARLOW

Stupid question. It's obvious.

UNA FRIPP

He's a mess.

GWEN BARLOW

He appears that way. But I can

feel his brain cells tingling all

over my body when he gives me

direction.

UNA FRIPP

So it's true.

GWEN BARLOW

What?

UNA FRIPP

You guys are fucking each other.

GWEN BARLOW

Absolutely not.

UNA FRIPP

Right.

GWEN BARLOW

You're jealous.

UNA FRIPP

What, of Clifford Brock's dwelling

on your performance.

GWEN BARLOW

Well, yes.

UNA FRIPP

He dwells on your performance

because you need forty notes for

one simple action.

GWEN BARLOW

Una, I have nuance. You get it.

Nuance. And it takes fine surgery

to urge my nuance to bloom.

UNA FRIPP

You have so many nuances nobody

knows what the hell you're doing.

GWEN BARLOW

Excuse me, Una, but since this is

the last shot of the movie, let me

just tip you off that you are quite

disliked by everyone.

UNA FRIPP

I consider that a badge of honor.

GWEN BARLOW

That is why I have the last big

scene and not you.

UNA FRIPP

You're murdered in the last scene.

I remain alive, ready, willing and

able to be cast in a sequel, you

idiot.

GWEN BARLOW

You remain alive because you have a

more powerful agent. That's all.

INT. PRODUCTION OFFICE

KELLY KING and EDGAR MIGGS are in a room. Edgar is holding a

clipboard and lots of papers. Kelly is trying very hard to

be respectful, but cannot help revealing her disdain.

EDGAR MIGGS

Sixteen days over the schedule at

about $225,000 per day.

KELLY KING

Please don't do the math.

EDGAR MIGGS

That comes to exactly three million

six hundred thousand dollars.

KELLY KING

It does not.

EDGAR MIGGS

Actually, according to the expense

reports, it really adds up to about

four million. So you are correct.

KELLY KING

Thank you. No look, if the studio

wants me to finish this movie, then

quite possibly your presence here

is going to slow things down.

EDGAR MIGGS

I hardly think so.

KELLY KING

I am the engine that keeps this

ship moving. And just having you

here is draining me of fuel. The

site of you makes me feel spent.

EDGAR MIGGS

You are spent. Fully spent. The

studio wants you wrapped before

overtime kicks in today.

KELLY KING

What? This is the last day. This

is the last shot. You are going to

give me shit on the last day?

EDGAR MIGGS

I think it is entirely reasonable

for the studio to require you to

wrap without overtime.

KELLY KING

Clifford Brock is an overtime kind

of director. That is what I am

dealing with here.

EDGAR MIGGS

According to the script, there is a

simple murder for you to shoot. It

is half a page. Is it so much to

ask for you to not go past six pm?

INT. FILM SET

Clifford Brock and Ronnie Knox are where we last left them.

CLIFFORD BROCK

We are living in crazy times,

Ronnie. Crazy times where nothing

is as we think it is. Everyone

thinks there's a murder. Everyone

acts as if there is a murder. Why?

Because they want there to be a

murder.

The murder justifies every

character's purpose. It justifies

their actions. It fills a void.

But, what if there is no murder, no

murder, and the audience knows it.

But, ah ha, but all the characters

believe, they have to believe, they

want to believe that this murder

happened, that it exists. It's a

metaphor.

RONNIE KNOX

Audiences don't give a shit about

metaphors, Clifford. They want a

movie with drama, Clifford; at a

minimum, to make sense. Some

sense. This means we have to

reshoot everything.

CLIFFORD BROCK

No. No. That's the point. Oh,

how brilliant. How brilliant. The

metaphor IS the drama. Today, we

do not shoot a murder. We shoot...

In walks WENDY JAY.

WENDY JAY

Is everything OK? People are sort

of getting worried.

RONNIE KNOX

Wait till you hear this. We are

not shooting a murder. We are not

shooting a murder. We are shooting

a metaphor. We have to set up to

shoot a metaphor.

WENDY JAY

I am not sure I understand.

RONNIE KNOX

He's lost his mind, Wendy.

WENDY JAY

Mr. Brock?

RONNIE KNOX

Yes. Mr. Brock. Who the fuck

else. This nutcase here is not

some crazy genius. But you want to

think that. Don't you. You want

to think he's a crazy genius.

WENDY JAY

I don't think Mr. Brock is crazy.

INT. DRESSING ROOM

Gwen Barlow is holding a script in hand, standing, facing Una

Fripp, who is holding a prop gun.

GWEN BARLOW

Do you think when you shoot me I

should fall forward or back?

UNA FRIPP

Have you ever heard of anyone

falling forward into a gunshot?

GWEN BARLOW

Oh yes. I think there is a medical

name for it.

UNA FRIPP

Oh, christ.

GWEN BARLOW

But you might be right. If I fall

forward, I will be face down. I

should fall back, and die with my

face to the camera.

UNA FRIPP

The medical name for that is

vanity.

MADISON QUINN walks in.

MADISON QUINN

Ms. Fripp, there's been a change.

UNA FRIPP

Madison, I am rehearsing. I told

you not to bother me when I am in

my zone. I am in my zone, in my

zone rehearsing.

MADISON QUINN

Yes, Ms. Fripp. But I thought you

should know that a little broo-ha

ha is, well, brewing.

GWEN BARLOW

What sort of broo-ha ha?

UNA FRIPP

Gwen, you are not to directly

address my personal assistant. She

answers to me, not you. (to

Madison) What sort of broo-ha ha?

INT. PRODUCTION OFFICE

Kelly King and Edgar Miggs are still going at it.

EDGAR MIGGS

The studio is also concerned about

the stability of your director.

KELLY KING

He's a director. A film director.

Of course he's not stable. That's

what you pay for.

EDGAR MIGGS

We have watched the dailies.

KELLY KING

Excuse me, what? The dailies. How

the hell did you get a hold of the

dailies? I haven't even watched

the dailies.

EDGAR MIGGS

Which is an indication that you

have lost control.

Ronnie Knox walks in.

RONNIE KNOX

We have a problem.

KELLY KING

Not now Ronnie.

RONNIE KNOX

Yes now.

KELLY KING

Ronnie, who do you work for? Who

do you work for?

RONNIE KNOX

I work for the picture.

KELLY KING

Wrong. You work for me. Me. Your

loyalty is to me, not the picture.

RONNIE KNOX

Well then let me re-phrase. You

have a problem, and you should know

about it, like now.

KELLY KING

And you think it appropriate, you

think it prudent to share my

problems with Mr. Miggs here who is

a representative of the studio?

No. No. So go back to work and

get the last shot set up.

RONNIE KNOX

But...

KELLY KING

Go.

INT. FILM SET

Clifford Brock is now standing, looking out the window. He

is alone with Wendy Jay, who stands behind him.

WENDY JAY

Film is no longer an artform. It

has become a business. Big

business, like oil or banking.

Filmmakers pretend to be artists,

but you know what they are?

At this point Wendy walks up to Clifford and puts her hand on

his shoulder.

WENDY JAY

They are assembly workers

assembling a package of formulaic

messages that support the global

corporate fascist state. But

you...you are different. You are a

warrior fighting against the

corporate terrorists that have

stolen the hearts and minds of the

working class.

CLIFFORD BROCK

So I take it you approve of the

change to the scene we will shoot

today?

WENDY JAY

It is positively a masterstroke of

artistry. Your filmmaking has the

touch of Michaelangelo.

Wendy turns Clifford around to face her.

WENDY JAY

Creativity at your level must be

very draining. Do you feel

drained, Mr. Brock?

CLIFFORD BROCK

No.

WENDY JAY

Of course you don't. Genius never

tires. It continues to labor on in

the face of all obstacles.

CLIFFORD BROCK

The point is that we believe what

we want to believe to make us feel

like we are purposeful. We make

ourselves right by altering our

perceptions.

WENDY JAY

Yes. It is deliciously Einsteinian

in its thought.

Wendy kisses Clifford on the lips. The kiss is somewhat

long, a bit wet, but Clifford's mind seems to be elsewhere,

which goes unnoticed by Wendy. Wendy's lips withdraw slowly,

her eyes closed, and she now too seems to have been

transported.

WENDY JAY

(eyes closed when she

starts talking)

Oh my god. Oh my god. I can feel

it. I can feel the very demise of

the corporate power structure, its

destruction is on the horizon. The

death of Mickey Mouse and Ronald

McDonald. And I have touched the

soul of the messiah of change.

CLIFFORD BROCK

It might be wise to start

assembling the art department so

you can dress the set.

WENDY JAY

Of course. All in the service of

our socio-political goals. Thank

you Mr. Brock. Thank you Clifford

Brock. Thank you.

Wendy departs, leaving Clifford alone.

INT. CORRIDOR

Ronnie Knox is walking down a corridor and is confronted by

Una Fripp. Madison Quinn is in tow.

UNA FRIPP

What's this I hear about a change?

RONNIE KNOX

Nothing is decided.

UNA FRIPP

Madison here tells me she has heard

otherwise.

RONNIE KNOX

Well Madison doesn't know what she

is talking about.

UNA FRIPP

We rehearsed the scene. I have

prepared. I've studied every

aspect of the scene.

RONNIE KNOX

You pull a fucking trigger of a

handgun and say a few words.

What's to study?

UNA FRIPP

I do not want any last minute

changes. My contract says all

changes are to be delivered forty

eight hours prior to the day of

production.

RONNIE KNOX

This is film, Una. Not a stage

play. You will not pampered to

death on my set.

UNA FRIPP

Your set?

Ronnie rolls her eyes or sits on an outburst.

UNA FRIPP

I have a contract.

MADISON QUINN

Yes. She has a contract.

UNA FRIPP

You tell her, Madison.

RONNIE KNOX

Oh for chrissake.

INT. EDGAR MIGG'S OFFICE

Edgar Migg's office is more lavish than the production

office, with a couch and a coffee table. Kelly King storms

into the room to find Clifford Brock. Edgar Miggs sheepishly

stands at the door.

KELLY KING

What's this I hear?

CLIFFORD BROCK

It's a small alteration to the

script but a big change to the

movie. No costs are involved in

making the change.

KELLY KING

No murder? Have you lost whatever

mind you have left, Clifford? This

is a suspense film. The whole film

is about a murder. This is not a

message movie. This is not some

high brow metaphorical art house

film. This is Hollywood, Clifford.

I am Hollywood. And if you would

stop and think who butters your

bread and mows your three lawns and

changes the tires on your dozen

sports cars, maybe you would

remember you are Hollywood too.

CLIFFORD BROCK

Maybe we should stop doing what we

are doing? Maybe we are all

running backs heading toward the

wrong goal. Maybe we are on the

wrong train, going in the wrong

direction at the wrong time.

KELLY KING

Who gives a shit what train and

what direction. It is a gravy

train, Clifford. That is all you

need to care about. Keep the gravy

coming. You see that man over

there?

Kelly King points to Edgar Miggs.

KELLY KING

He is the eyes and ears of

Hollywood. Watching every move I

make and every move you make.

EDGAR MIGGS

Actually, all I want is for this

last shot to not go into overtime.

I am not here to interfere with the

creative aspects.

CLIFFORD BROCK

See. Big brother has his concerns,

which is not relevant to the change

I am making to the shot.

KELLY KING

Oh it will be. It will be when the

film tanks at the box office. Big

brother will throw you out into the

orphanage so fast you will not know

what hit you.

Gwen Barlow walks in, giving a passing nod to Edgar Miggs.

GWEN BARLOW

So this is true?

KELLY KING

Gwen, this is business talk, not

art talk. So go study your lines.

CLIFFORD BROCK

You stay where you are, Gwen.

EDGAR MIGGS

Ms. King, we need to report the

status of the set to the studio.

KELLY KING

What status? There is no status.

EDGAR MIGGS

You are losing control.

Clifford and Gwen slip out of the room.

KELLY KING

Mr. Miggs, this is movie making.

Things happen. It is all part of

the plan for stuff to go wrong, for

things to come off the rails. It's

an improvisation. If you permit me

to do my job, if you let me have

the exercise my steady

determination to get this done,

then my studio poll numbers will be

just fine. Where's Clifford?

Kelly King and Edgar Miggs are alone.

INT. DRESSING ROOM

Clifford Brock and Gwen Barlow face each other.

GWEN BARLOW

I think it's wonderful that you

don't want to kill me.

CLIFFORD BROCK

Murder is not necessary to the

story.

GWEN BARLOW

You are so right. Will there be a

sequel?

CLIFFORD BROCK

Every story has a sequel. Every

story is followed by another story.

GWEN BARLOW

Yes. Yes. And so I live on. On

to another story. Another film!

CLIFFORD BROCK

You know you were cast in this role

against my better judgment.

GWEN BARLOW

What?

CLIFFORD BROCK

You did a lousy audition. You

obviously relied on your facial

structure and good body rather than

any acting talent.

GWEN BARLOW

I'm...but...

CLIFFORD BROCK

But I was wrong. You are as

talented as you are beautiful.

Gwen is relieved.

CLIFFORD BROCK

Your talent seems to glow, like a

bright yellow sun through a hazy

sky.

GWEN BARLOW

Clifford, really. You are making

me blush.

Clifford touches her face with his hand, gently stroking the

side of her cheek, working its way down Gwen's neck.

GWEN BARLOW

Clifford. Clifford. If I were

you, and I make no pretense to be

you or know what it is like to be

you, but if I were you, I would

stop touching your actress right

now before you get in trouble.

CLIFFORD BROCK

Trouble? I am the director. Why

should I get into trouble?

GWEN BARLOW

You want me, Clifford Brock? You

want all of me...all my hazy

sunshine reflecting warmly off

every part of your body. Is that

what you want, Clifford Brock?

CLIFFORD BROCK

I do not think I could have

expressed it better.

GWEN BARLOW

Then place this in your pants and

let it tickle your future plans.

Sequel. Gwen Barlow in your

sequel. Make certain the last shot

is changed, and you can have all

the sunshine you want. And do you

know why?

CLIFFORD BROCK

Why?

GWEN BARLOW

Because you are a brilliant

and...and Gwen Barlow does not die.

Gwen walks out.

INT. A CLOSET OR HIDDEN AREA

Madison Quinn is standing with her head leaning back against

the wall. Edgar Miggs slips into the room.

EDGAR MIGGS

I missed you.

MADISON QUINN

Yeah?

EDGAR MIGGS

How's it going?

MADISON QUINN

Una Fripp is a pompous,

pretentious, overbearing egomaniac.

But she pays well.

EDGAR MIGGS

You look beautiful.

MADISON QUINN

Edgar...what happened to that job

opening with Chris Nolan's

production company?

EDGAR MIGGS

I'm working on it.

MADISON QUINN

I'm not sure you are.

EDGAR MIGGS

Maybe after they wrap today, we

can...

MADISON QUINN

You fly here on the company jet?

EDGAR MIGGS

Yeah.

MADISON QUINN

So. We can fly back together.

EDGAR MIGGS

Doesn't Una need you?

MADISON QUINN

I am quitting after we wrap.

So...I don't care anymore?

EDGAR MIGGS

You certain you want to make this

change so rashly?

MADISON QUINN

Change is good.

EDGAR MIGGS

I can't promise anything, Madison.

MADISON QUINN

I'll move in with you.

EDGAR MIGGS

Is that what you want?

MADISON QUINN

I don't want it the way it is.

Madison goes to Edgar and is about to embrace him. Edgar

moves back.

EDGAR MIGGS

We shouldn't. Not here.

MADISON QUINN

I thought Hollywood would be

exciting. Like everyday, exciting.

But the minute you go through the

door, you get wrapped up in all the

emptiness of it. I'm tired of

being aroused by emptiness. I want

to be aroused by something...real.

Madison touches her finger to her lips and then places it on

Edgar's lips. She then leaves.

INT. EDGER MIGG'S OFFICE

Una Fripp storms into the room where Kelly King and Edgar

Miggs are engaged in conversation.

UNA FRIPP

So you are the producer. You are

in charge, so start to normalize

things around here. We have a

scene. It is written. I murder

Gwen, a murder I have been waiting

to do for months, and now you think

your nutcase director can change

this on the last day of production.

At this point, Clifford Brock walks in.

CLIFFORD BROCK

Of course I can change it. It is

my prerogative.

KELLY KING

I have a solution. We shoot it

both ways. One with a murder and

one without. That way we can

finish this discussion, and wrap

without overtime.

CLIFFORD BROCK

Do you think I just got off the

bus, Kelly. We shoot it both ways,

you will use the murder shot.

KELLY KING

You have final cut.

CLIFFORD BROCK

Bullshit. You know that's

bullshit.

UNA FRIPP

That's right, bullshit. I have

final cut.

KELLY KING

You have "final look," Una.

UNA FRIPP

Final look?

KELLY KING

You get to look at it and give us

your comments, which we can choose

to ignore if we wish.

UNA FRIPP

I am not getting paid enough for

just a final look.

Wendy Jay walks in.

WENDY JAY

OK, we are all set. The DP is

lighting. The change has made my

job easy. No blood, no mess.

EDGAR MIGGS

No blood means no gunshot, which

means we can dismiss the licensed

gun wrangler, We will save on

payroll and insurance.

KELLY KING

God help me.

CLIFFORD BROCK

OK, so no murder creates some story

problems...it is no longer linear.

But life is not linear.

UNA FRIPP

Excuse me, but my life is very

linear.

CLIFFORD BROCK

Una, you are a star. Committing

murder will tarnish your image.

UNA FRIPP

You think?

KELLY KING

Can we all shut up. For one

second. Maybe we can market the

movie as Part One, locking into the

public's mind set that there will

be a Part Two. This heightens

interest, avoids the possible

criticism of the movie not making

sense, because it will all make

sense when everyone sees Part Two.

Plus, I might add, it doubles the

potential revenue stream.

Everyone seems to absorb this bit of news as good news.

There is a somewhat long moment of silence.

WENDY JAY

We are going to lose the light if

we wait too much longer.

KELLY KING

We wouldn't want to lose the light.

Mr. Miggs, you will cover me on

this?

EDGAR MIGGS

It seems to be a reasonable plan.

WENDY JAY

Mr. Brock, the studio executives

will make you put the murder back

in when you make Part Two.

KELLY KING

Wendy, shut the hell up. That is

for another day.

CLIFFORD BROCK

One shot at a time, Wendy. You

accumulate enough good shots, you

have a good movie.

WENDY JAY

Conducting warfare as a pacifist.

Wow - I get it.

CLIFFORD BROCK

It's an editing thing, Wendy.

WENDY JAY

Of course, Mr. Brock.

INT. A PRIVATE AREA OFF THE FILM SET

Clifford Brock is pacing. Gretchen Werner walks in with

script and notes in hand.

GRETCHEN WERNER

So I made the changes to the script

as requested. You OK?

CLIFFORD BROCK

No.

GRETCHEN WERNER

What's wrong?

CLIFFORD BROCK

I don't know if I am making a

mistake.

GRETCHEN WERNER

You're taking a risk.

CLIFFORD BROCK

Yes. Do I need to take risks right

now in my life? Things are good.

GRETCHEN WERNER

I don't know. Are they?

CLIFFORD BROCK

Are they what?

GRETCHEN WERNER

Your life. Is it good?

Clifford looks at Gretchen.

CLIFFORD BROCK

It's Gretchen, right? Gretchen

Werner?

GRETCHEN WERNER

Yes.

CLIFFORD BROCK

I was wrong.

GRETCHEN WERNER

About what?

CLIFFORD BROCK

After we wrap today, I'd like

to...to have a drink with you.

GRETCHEN WERNER

You just want to talk?

Clifford walks up to Gretchen and is quite close.

CLIFFORD BROCK

I want to...I want to talk about

the sequel.

GRETCHEN WERNER

I don't think there should be a

sequel.

CLIFFORD BROCK

You don't.

They are getting quite close.

GRETCHEN WERNER

It should be a prequel. Start the

credits of this movie (referencing

the script in her hand) with a

"Part Two" in the title. Like

George Lucas did with Star Wars.

CLIFFORD BROCK

Wow...you are really being a script

supervisor.

GRETCHEN WERNER

That's what I do. I supervise.

CLIFFORD BROCK

The prequel idea is brilliant.

GRETCHEN WERNER

It shows confidence, Clifford. It

has...

CLIFFORD BROCK

What does it have?

GRETCHEN WERNER

Balls.

They embrace and kiss.

CUT TO BLACK.

THE END.

Ghost Girl

2011-12-04T07:31:00.001-08:00

INT. BAR - RESTAURANT

HOWARD ZINNEMAN sits at a small table in a dark bar. He is
wearing glasses, has short hair, dressed casually, but
appears unkempt. In front of him a shot glass filled with
Bushmills Irish Whiskey. We know it is Bushmills because the
bottle sits on the table. Howard has purchased the bottle
from the bartender and intends to nurse it clean by the end
of the night. His pinky on one hand is significantly
bandaged, wrapped with gauze.

This is not an ordinary night for Howard. And he is sitting
at the Blind Spot Bar waiting for the third thing to happen.
Howard's mother told him that bad things happen in threes.
So far, today, two have transpired, by Howard's accounting.

At 5:00pm today, when he was leaving The New York Daily News
building down in lower Manhattan, he was stopped by his boss.
The boss, a Mr. Hinkle, has a mild stutter and advised Howard
that it had been decided that this was to be his last day.
In other words, to put it simply, Howard was fired today.

Howard asked Hinkle who was going to do the obits. Hinkle
said that the newspaper was simple going to buy the obits
from a service that syndicated them to all local newspapers
that subscribed to its service. Howard was fired like so
many, replaced by the technology of information third party
startups access. Hinkle apologized and was clearly nervous
about delivering the news.

Howard asked if he could come in the next morning to clean
out his desk. Hinkle advised that he could not, but that an
intern would pack thing up and send it to his home. Howard
felt an urge to walk back into the newsroom and say goodbye
to people, but the truth of the matter was that Howard did
not have many friends on the newsroom floor. He had taken
pride in writing what he considered mini-biographies, which
were often significantly slashed in length by the editor.
But he was respectful, and often submitted obits about people
who merely had ordinary lives, like iron workers, postmen,
dockworkers and taxicab drivers.

Howard drove home through the Holland Tunnel to his home in
Maplewood, New Jersey. The 1996 Ford Bronco which Howard had
kept running for over 200,000 miles made its way to his small
three-bedroom house on Hoffman Street. When he pulled into
the driveway, he noticed the front door was ajar. This was
unlike his wife, Sheila, to be so careless. Maplewood was a
safe town in northern New Jersey, with tree-lined streets and
cobblestone sidewalks in the village. It even had the large
village clock and a barber shop with the red and white
striped cylinder that turned inside a clear plexiglass
collar. And so Maplewood had all the trappings of a safe and
pleasant community. Everyone knew everyone as well.

Howard got out of the Bronco, the door not fully closing,
something Howard had to fix. He carried his thin vinyl
briefcase portfolio that he had purchased at Staples. As he
walked toward the front door, his neighbor Brian Bean, was
raking some leaves out front. Brian said "Hey Howard, maybe
you should...maybe you should...nevermind." Howard said
"Maybe I should what?" "Nothing, nothing," said Brian, who
continued raking, clearly signalling that he wanted to to end
the conversation.

Howard walked into his house. The first floor was small, a
few steps through a corridor adjacent to the stairs led to
the kitchen. The counter had an open bottle of wine and two
glasses. Howard stopped. His first thought was what any man
with a young wife would think - she is having an affair. But
it was too cliche. Usually on a Friday evening he stops at
the Maplewood library to review several of the tri-state area
local papers for obit leads. This delays his Friday arrival
at home til 7:45 to 8:00pm. But it was 6:15. Daylight
savings time had just ended, so it was getting dark already.

Howard walked up the stairs slowly, still carrying his vinyl
briefcase. He walked into his bedroom and stood at the open
door. A man, with a body that looked like a gymnast, his
arms erect, holding himself up, was moving his buttocks
forward and back as Sheila appeared to be having a silent
orgasm. She was gripping the sheets, her head arched back,
eyes closed, and she was stiff with pleasure. The man, a boy
really, seemed to be enjoying it less than his wife.

Howard became unaware of how long he stood at the door
watching this. What struck him as odd was that after the boy
collapsed on his wife, they seemed to fall asleep, never
noticing that he was standing no more than eight feet from
them. A certain numbness overcame Howard, and he turned,
walked down the stairs and out the front door. He stopped on
his front lawn and looked at the nearly full moon. Several
stars were also appearing, and Venus was staking out a
portion of the sky. He took a deep breath when Brian said,
rake still in hand, "Hey Howie, you OK?"

Howard took this to mean that Brian knew what was going on
inside his house, and then understood the palaver that
transpired before. "Fine," said Howard.

Howard drove his Bronco back into Manhattan through the
Holland Tunnel and parked somewhere below Canal Street. He
found the nearest bar, which had the name "The Blind Spot,"
went straight to the bartender and bought a bottle of
Bushmills. And so Howard sat at his own table, his vinyl
briefcase on the table, and he started to nurse the whiskey
as he thought of the rapidity of how life can change, and
dreading number three.

ALEXA G. was sitting at the bar. She noticed Howard come in
and buy his bottle of whiskey. She was not aware that one
could actually buy a bottle of whiskey at a bar. To Alexa,
Howard looked like an accountant. She almost expected to see
a shirt pocket pen holder in Howard's shirt.

Unlike Howard, Alexa was having a good day. It is a good day
when a wire tie is not tight around your wrists, or when you
are not strapped to a gurney, or when lithium is not being
pumped into your arm. It is good day when three security
guards and a medical technician are not escorting you from
padded room to examining room to observation room. It was
the observation room that bothered Alexa the most. In the
center of a circular room with a ceiling two stories up. The
second story containing a 360 degree wrap-around window where
doctors and other scientists sat and watched as they
attempted to understand Alexa. They took notes, and she saw
them making conversation.

Alexa was a good girl. It was never her intention to cause
harm. When she was nine, the first serious signs were
noticed by her mother when Alexa strangled her father pit
bull with an electrical cord. Alexa claimed the dog snarled
at her. Her mother, Marion Ghostola, had no other children
and was raising Alexa by herself because Nathan was a
trucker. Nathan Ghostola was not pleased about his pit bull
and took it upon himself to drink himself silly and then fist
his daughter in the face no less than a dozen times, landing
the nine-year old in the hospital with a broken jaw and a
concussion. This bit of violence was blamed ob Alexa by her
mother. "You shouldn't have touched Daddy's dog."

Alexa was in and out of school, never able to sit in one
place for too long. Eastern Pennsylvania has many small
towns. The Ghostola family lived in a small house about a
mile from the campus of Lehigh University in Bethlehem.
Marion worked in the cafeteria at Lehigh. One day, when
Nathan lost a shipment job, he had nothing to do. So NAthan
stayed at home and drank. Alexa came home, having been
kicked out of school that day early for spitting on the
principal's face. She saw her father drinking. By now, at
the age of fourteen, her father did not see her a a baby girl
anymore. In his drunken state, she was a young woman.

Alexa locked herself in her bedroom. Nathan went upstairs
and broke into Alexa's bedroom. What happened next was never
revealed by those who lived to tell, but the end result was
that Nathan was decapitated and his guts removed. Marion
came home that night finding Alexa on her bed, blood
everywhere, including on Alexa's face and hands, and her
husband, or what was left of him, sprawled on the floor.
Nathan's head sat on the foot of the bed.

Alexa admitted killing her father. Alexa never told what her
father tried to do to her. She was tried as an adult for
murder, but found not guilt by reason of insanity. She was
carted off to a secure hospital in Allentown which turned out
to not be secure enough. Alexa killed a nurse, through acid
on the face of a doctor, jammed a hypodermic needle in the
neck of the hospital administrator, and escaped three times,
being caught within a few ours by State troopers who had
learned that Alexa required at least four large men to
restrain her.

Alexa was sent off to the psychiatric facility on Ward's
Island in New York City where the security was considered the
best in the nation.

There was a disagreement as to Alexa's diagnosis. She was
lucid and smart, but distracted and unfocussed at times. She
was violent, and oddly strong for her petite size. She had
learned to get herself out of a straight jacket, as well as
pick locks. She was a master at slipping things out of
people's pockets, and had a manner that begged anyone present
to take care of her.

It took just a few years at Ward's Island for Alexa to figure
out how she would escape. The details are quite gory, and so
I will not elaborate here. Needless to say, she was able to
acquire the Navy blue blazer she was wearing at The Blind
Spot Bar from a Wall Street executive who was presently
stuffed into a dumpster down on Water Street near a
construction site. The blazer, to Alexa's good fortune,
contained a wallet and other goodies. She now found herself
flush with a few thousand in cash.

She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt with the over-sized blue
blazer hanging on her. It made her seem frail. She had not
taken it upon herself to wash her get spiffed up, not that
this would have occurred to her. It looked like there was
gel in her hair, so one could interpret this as style. But
it was nothing more than grime.

Alexa asked the bartender for a shot glass. He obliged. She
walked over to Howard's table and sat opposite him. Howard
at first was a tad taken aback that Alexa sat down opposite
him. He did not come to the bar to meet anyone, was
interested in talking, and certainly did not expect a woman,
no less an attractive young woman, to sit down. Howard did
not view himself as an attractive man, and today of all days,
any confidence he might have had was broken. He was about to
suggest to the young woman that he wanted to be left alone,
but she started to talk. There was little eye contact from
Alexa, which permitted Howard a bit more comfort in staring
at this young woman.

ALEXA
I am not sure...I am not sure I
like this place. It has too many
eyeballs. You know eyeballs are
only good for one thing. They
steal from you. They do not let
you be you.

HOWARD
Ummm, Miss, I did not really
come...

ALEXA
Come is good. We all come to that
place where we don't want to be.
It always works out that way. We
go straight for what we want and
end up where we don't want. You
don't look well.

HOWARD
Me?

ALEXA
That's OK. That means you're
honest. You don't feel well, and
so you don't look well. That's
honest. I like that.

HOWARD
Yes. Thank you. But I was sitting
here alone and...

ALEXA
Yeah. I noticed. But if you
observed, if you examined the room,
there are three people here who
have something in common.

HOWARD
Three people?

ALEXA
You, me and the bartender. We are
all here alone. I was getting
bored with the bartender.

Alexa picks up the bottle of Bushmills and pours herself a
shot of whiskey. She chugs it. She then pours herself
another.

ALEXA (CONT'D)
You don't mind, do you? Of course
not. Why would you.
I mean I am here. You want me
here, and this is like...this
bottle that you prominently
displayed on your table is an
invitation.

HOWARD
Miss, I am not in the mood for
conversation tonight.

ALEXA
Conversation...talk...talking. It
all sucks. It all leads to
something else. Something you
don't want or can't handle. The
talking is the good part. It's
where it goes that...well, it's
just not pretty. Oh fuck.

Alexa's places her hands on her face. She seems to be
fighting a cry or some upset. This is not surprising since
it has been almost twelve hours since she has had any
medication, medications which have been pumped into her for
the last several years.

HOWARD
You OK?

ALEXA
Are you...are you a...what do you
do?

Alexa's eyes are red. Howard thinks with tears.

HOWARD
I'm a writer.

ALEXA
Wow. You mean books.

HOWARD
A journalist.

ALEXA
Oh shit. A reporter. I hate
reporters.

Alexa polishes off the shot and pours herself some more. She
thinks that the alcohol will shield the lack of medication.
Or maybe she does not think about that at all.

ALEXA (CONT'D)
Reporters have eyeballs.

HOWARD
Well, I am not the eyeball kind of
reporter. I write obituaries.

ALEXA
Dead people.

HOWARD
Yes.

ALEXA
Then you can write about me. You
don't get deader than me. So this
is new for you. You don't get to
interview your subjects. They are
all dead. But I talk. I talk.
What do you want to know?

HOWARD
What I have been trying to say, in
as polite a manner as possible, is
that I want to be alone. It was
quite nice of you to...to engage in
conversation. And feel free to
take the bottle if you like. But I
did not come here to meet anyone.

ALEXA
Then you have met the perfect
person. Because I am no one.

HOWARD
You are very much someone. You are
actually very...lovely.

Alexa reaches out with one hand and places it on one of
Howard's hands.

ALEXA
Lovely. You called me lovely.
Does that mean pretty? You think I
am pretty?

HOWARD
Yes.

ALEXA
When was the last time you...when
was the last time...goddamn it...I
hate when I lose words. There is a
word. It is on the tip of my
tongue.

Howard is uncomfortable with Alexa's hand on his. But he
does not know what to do about this bit of awkwardness.

ALEXA (CONT'D)
Do you ever lose words?

HOWARD
All the time.

ALEXA
Fuck. That was the word I lost. I
lost the word fuck.

HOWARD
OK.

ALEXA
So when was the last time?

HOWARD
The last time?

ALEXA
You fucked. A girl.

Howard pulls his hand away from Alexa without realizing it.

HOWARD
Miss, I really...

ALEXA
My name is Alexa, and why did you
pull away from me?

HOWARD
I am not pulling away.

ALEXA
I was touching you. Your hand felt
good. I hate when people do that.
Like they feel entitled to just
take things from me.

Howard notices that Alexa is getting agitated.

HOWARD
Alexa, I...

ALEXA
Have you ever wanted to kill
someone?

HOWARD
Ummm. Yes.

ALEXA
Recently?

HOWARD
Well...

ALEXA
Oh good. Good. You wanted to kill
someone today. I can see through
your skull into that brain. Who
was it? A boy? A girl?

HOWARD
A bit earlier, I thought about
killing myself.

ALEXA
We are all doing that.

Howard looks at her.

ALEXA (CONT'D)
We are all trying to kill ourselves
and at the same time, we are all
trying to stay alive. We have a
stupid way of enjoying ourselves,
don't we.

HOWARD
I had not thought of it that way
before.

ALEXA
But you see, you pulled your hand
away. That was like a big fuck
you.

HOWARD
I did not intend to...

ALEXA
No one intends to do anything.
They just do it. Compelled. We
are compelled. We are wired to
destroy the people around us.

Howard oddly felt compelled to place his hand on Alexa's
hand. He does this. This freezes Alexa. A moment passes.

ALEXA (CONT'D)
You're fucking with me now, aren't
you.

HOWARD
No...I...

Howard pulls his hand away.

ALEXA
You did it again. You trying to
piss me off? I can tell you've
been fucked with. Someone has
reached inside your brainbox and
messed with the grey matter.
Mushing it all up. And now you are
taking it out on me.

HOWARD
I did not mean...

Alexa's hands are now shaking. It is the drug withdrawal or
the fact that her brain simply does not work unless
controlled by drugs. Alexa pours herself more whiskey, but
she over pours the shot, spilling liquor on the table. She
downs the whiskey, and then swipes the shot glass off the
table somewhat violently. Howard notices that everyone in
the bar is now watching his table.

ALEXA
I hate this.

HOWARD
I'm sorry.

Alexa looks at him. This is the first time that she really
looks at him. It seems to calm her. A moment passes.

ALEXA
You have a face. It's a nice face.
People who hurt have nice faces. I
wish we could be one. You and me.
Merge. What would we get, two nice
people merging?

HOWARD
I don't know.

Alexa grabs Howard's hand. She closes her eyes.

ALEXA
It feels good.

Howard grabs her hand with his free hand.

HOWARD
My name is Howard.

Alexa's eyes open. Tears are flowing, but she is not crying
overtly. She withdraws her hands slowly from Howard's and
reaches into the pockets of her blazer and pulls out a Mont
Blanc pen, a silver lighter, a wad of cash and then a wallet.
She places the wallet on the table and pushes it toward
Howard. She then places the wad of cash back in her pocket.

ALEXA
You can have all these things.
They are not mine. But now they
are yours. Please do one thing for
me.

HOWARD
OK.

ALEXA
Don't forget me. I am forgettable.
It's a problem.

HOWARD
You are anything but forgettable.

Alexa stands.

HOWARD (CONT'D)
How can I contact you?

ALEXA
That's sweet. I'll find you. I'm
not...findable.

Alexa leaves. Howard sits, not knowing he has the personal
effects of a man murdered by Alexa sitting on the table in
front of him.

END OF SCENE
ONE.

High School Morning

2011-06-22T08:05:00.000-07:00

INT HIGH SCHOOL STORE ROOM MORNING

JOSH rushes into the room. He is holding a pistol. He is

wearing a ski mask or sticking over his face. He removes it.

Josh is also wearing surgical gloves. He does not remove

those. He is breathing very hard, almost panting. RICK

comes in after, removing his ski mask or facial disguise.

Rick is also holding a pistol, but he is not wearing surgocal

gloves. He shuts the door behind him. We hear screams and

cries. At some point we may hear sirens and other noises to

heighten the urgency.

RICK

Oh man. Oh man. That was totally

awesome. Did you see Mrs. Newman's

face? Fucking priceless.

JOSH

What do we do now?

RICK

I counted fifteen. You?

JOSH

I wasn't keeping count, Rick.

RICK

How many did you do?

JOSH

Shit, man...we can't just stay in

here.

RICK

How many, Josh? We had a quota.

Did we reach it?

JOSH

I don't know. Six, seven.

RICK

Judy Moore was cursing me out. The

fucking bitch had the balls to be

cursing me out after I shot her.

Can you believe it? So I shot her

in the face. Oh man, it was

beautiful.

JOSH

You said...you said no girls, Rick.

RICK

Yeah, well I didn't shoot Angela

Morgan.

Why was she lying on the ground in

a pool of blood? That wasn't me.

JOSH

I don't know.

RICK

It was you, man.

JOSH

No. I didn't...

RICK

Collateral damage.

JOSH

We have to stick with the plan.

RICK

Fuck the plan. I want to go back

out there. Mrs. Broman locked

herself in the bathroom with like

ten girls. We shoot the lock out

and do them all in the bathroom.

I've changed my mind about the

girls. We kill every last one of

them.

JOSH

Jesus fuck...now you want to kill

the...this is fucked. The plan.

The goddamn plan. We have to stick

with the plan. This was payback.

Just payback. Not a suicide

mission. We disappear. As

planned.

RICK

Disappear? No one disappears

anymore. You really think we are

going to get out of here and

escape. There's no fucking escape,

Josh. We either turn ourselves in

or we go out blazing, shooting

anybody in our way and whatever

happens happens.

Josh starts for the door. Rick holds up his gun, pointing it

at Josh.

RICK (CONT'D)

Where you going?

JOSH

The tunnel.

RICK

You are such a fucking idiot. They

already closed off the tunnel. In

fact, that is probably the way

their coming in right now. Through

the tunnel. Go down into the

tunnel and you are a dead man.

JOSH

Three months of planning all for

what? You don't have to plan a

fucking thing to shoot up the high

school, killing girls in bathrooms.

That's fucking easy, man. The

planning was so we could escape.

RICK

You don't get it, do you.

JOSH

Where are your gloves? You are not

wearing gloves.

RICK

That's because I want them to know

its me. I want them to know that

Richard Drew Fox made the biggest

fucking contribution to his high

school. Heah man, you think I'll

make the year book? Most likely to

make a difference.

There is a moment of silence between Rick and Josh, but the

noises from outside are starting to rise, mostly sirens.

Josh then takes his gun, points it toward his own belly and

shoots himself. This startles Rick. Josh falls to the

floor. He is hurt, but remains alert. He throws the pistol

along the floor toward Rick. He then removes the surgical

gloves and also throws them at Rick.

JOSH

I'm just one of your victims.

They'll never know.

RICK

It won't work.

JOSH

I'll take the chance.

Rick picks up Josh's gun.

RICK

See you in hell, man.

JOSH

Yeah. Sure.

Rick leaves. There are screams and lots of gunfire.

FADE TO BLACK.

THE END.

"The Ref" Rewritten

2011-06-01T06:55:00.000-07:00

INT THERAPIST’SOFFICE

LLOYD and CAROLINE sit in separate chairs but next to eachother. A THERAPIST faces them.

THERAPIST. All right,this next exercise will help you both with listening. One of you will speak while the other reallyjust listens. Would someone like to gofirst?

A pause. Man andWoman glance in each other’s direction.

CAROLINE. Me. I had this crazy dream.

LLOYD. Do we have todo dreams?

CAROLINE. I was atthis fancy restaurant having lunch…and the waiter brought me this entrée. It was a salad. It was Lloyd’s head on aplate of spinach with his penis sticking out of his ear. And I said “I didn’t order this.” And the waiter said “You must try it. It’s a delicacy. But don’t eat the penis: it’s just garnish.”

THERAPIST. Hmmmmm. Lloyd, what do you think about the dream?

LLOYD. I think sheshould stop telling it at dinner parties to all our friends. I mean, dreams should be private, don’t youthink?

THERAPIST. I’m not here to judge or take sides. I will say communication is healthy.

LLOYD. Healthy? Telling people she dreams of my penis on adinner plate is healthy?

THERAPIST. Are thereany sexual problems in the marriage?

LLOYD. Well…

CAROLINE. …the truthis we haven’t had sex in quite awhile. And before that, it wasn;t all that…oh, what’s the word? Noteworthy.

THERAPIST. I see.

CAROLINE. By our fifthanniversary, we’d gotten into a pretty stale routine. A couple of kisses, a couple of nippletwists. It would be over in the time ittakes to make a cappuccino. I knowbecause I timed it once. I mean, it’s nowonder I had an affair.

LLOYD. How could youtell him that so casually, like you were asking for a glass of water?

CAROLINE. Actually,may I have a glass of water?

LLOYD. Why don’t youhave oral sex too. I’ll go wait in thecar.

THERAPIST. Lloyd, howdo you feel about Caroline’s affair?

CAROLINE. He justwants me to wear a red “A” on my pajamas and sleep in the basement.

LLOYD. Is that sounreasonable?

CAROLINE. Everything’s either black or white with him. You know, he doesn’t…he doesn’t see wherehe’s responsible. It didn’t even meananything to me. It shouldn’t even becounted as an affair.

LLOYD. I think weneed a ruling on this.

THERAPIST. Lloyd,have you forgiven Caroline for her affair?

LLOYD. Look, it was along time ago. It’s over. I’m fine about it. I just don’t want to talk about it.

THERAPIST. Then letme ask you something. What do you wantfrom the marriage now?

LLOYD. I want to stoptalking about it. Look, the truth is Iwant nothing. I have everything Ineed. I’m actually very content.

CAROLINE. What aliar. You’re so unhappy you can hardlybreathe. And I feel it in every gesture,in every silence. And I’mmiserable. How can we both be in themarriage and I’m miserable and you’re content?

LLOYD. Luck?

THERAPIST. Caroline,what do you want from the marriage?

LLOYD. Oh, thisshould be good.

CAROLINE. What isthat supposed to mean?

LLOYD. You don’t knowwhat you want., and you blame everybody else for it. She’s impossible to satisfy. She lives in her fantasies. I mean, let’s really try to understandCaroline’s miserable life. She lives ina beautiful home.

CAROLINE. Which hismother owns.

LLOYD. I have asuccessful business.

CAROLINE. Which hismother owns. We’re in servitude to hismother for a loan she’s charging us 18% interest on. We personally own nothing.

LLOYD. We took out aloan.

CAROLINE. No, youtook out a loan. It was yourdecision. You took out a loan from SatanMom.

LLOYD. She blames mymother for everything that’s gone wrong in her life. In the meantime, she never finishesanything. Photography courses,Scandinavian cooking classes, Tai Chi…

CAROLINE. At least Igo after my dreams.

LLOYD. To bewhat? Somebody who takes photographs ofcooked fish to prove the nothingness of being? No wonder our son is so confused.

CAROLINE. See, heblames me for Jesse. Is that right? You’re the one who suffocated him withlimitations. Our son’s a very sensitive,creative…

LLOYD. Juveniledelinquent.

CAROLINE. Boy. He has the imagination…

LLOYD. That the Mafiagives scholarships for. In the ninthgrade, we told him he should get a part-time job. He started an escort service for the footballteam, and he gave out my mother’s phone number.

CAROLINE. I stillthink getting laid by a 17-year old linebacker is just what she needs!

THERAPIST. Please…let’s lower our voices.

LLOYD and CAROLINE together. Fuck you !

What Does My Best Look Like?

2011-04-30T06:02:00.001-07:00

INT CAFE EARLY MORNING

JODIE is dressed as if she rolled out of bed and grabbed the
first thing to put on. She is running on little or no sleep,
and has not showered in a few days. She sits opposite MARGO.
Margo is dressed for work, an advertising job in midtown
Manhattan. This is early morning. Jodie and Margo went to
college together, a state university, where they were both
considered their sorority activities more important than
their educational activities; though Jodie would insist that
the sorority prepared them for life better than the
classroom.

They both graduated together, middle of the class, with a
reputation as party girls. Jodie majored in Sociology.
Margo majored in English. It has been three years since
graduation. During the first year after graduation, Jodie
got pregnant from a one-night stand, had an abortion, and
though she harbors a private shame about the fact that she
has no memory of who the father was, her public stance is
that it is "funny, right?" One does not normally get a job
in the field of sociology except maybe teaching the subject
to other un-employables.

Margo's English degree, much to her surprise, was a plum on
her resume. Employers today have more difficulty than ever
in finding young prospects who know how to write a complete
sentence or know the difference between an adverb and
adjective or a past participle and a present participle. She
wrote an essay that has appeared on one of her many abandoned
blogs, that one advertising agency thought was hysterical.
Hired to be a copywriter, the three years since graduating
have been good to Margo.

We cannot say the same for Jodie. After both Jodie and Margo
moved to New York City, they at first lived in a one-bedroom
walkup in Borough Park, Brooklyn. The rent was cheap, but
then the hot water was intermittent and the heat spotty.
When Margo started making some dough, she moved out to her
own place in the East Village in Manhattan. Margo explained
to Jodie that she was not abandoning her, it was just that
the commute was too long from Brooklyn. Jodie said she
understood, but the lack of a roommate made her panic. Not
because of an absence of companionship, but Jodie had no
confidence that she could make the rent every month. And so
Jodie advertised for a roommate and got one. A guy who
insisted on the bedroom. Jodie said yes. He also insisted
on paying one amount and nothing additional for utilities -
Jodie agreed. Then the roommate proceeded to bring in
several oil-filled electrical heaters that drove up the Con
Ed bill by 300%. Jodie's problem, not the roommates. A deal
is a deal.

Jodie's first job out of college was that of a barista at a
Starbucks. This lasted three months when Jodie was fired for
turning the steam spout on a patron who complained about the
lack of foam and asked for more steam. Jodie said "you want
more steam, here..." It was only a first-degree facial burn,
but enough to get Jodie fired.

Jodie was denied unemployment because her discharge was
deemed justified (Jodie thought this was a ridiculous!), and
so she had to get a job fast. And she did so - at Staples.
They saw "Sociology" on her resume, and so assumed Jodie
would be good at customer relations. Jodie neglected to
mention on the job application her stint at Starbucks, and so
she was placed on the floor to sell and answer questions
about pens and paper and binders. Boy named Bill Berg,
about five years Jodie's senior, also worked the floor in the
computer department. Jodie and Bill hit it off, particularly
since Bill often brought cocaine to work. Jodie at first was
reluctant to partake during work hours until one morning when
coffee was unsuccessful at kicking her into gear, Bill
offered the white powder as the preferred morning pick-me-up.
For Jodie, that was an astounding day of work. She made so
many customers happy, she sold more paper and binders that
day than any single employee had in that department.

The hell with coffee, Jodie told Bill. So the cocaine use
continued. And then there started the afternoon pick-me-up.
And then the evening, until Jodie was pretty much hooked.
And she got all her cocaine free from Bill. Bill of course
sort of expected something in return - sex. And he got
plenty of it.

About two months into this, Jodie showed up at Staples and
there were three police cars with lights blaring parked
outside Staples. As she walked up to the front door, she saw
Bill Berg being escorted out in handcuffs. That was the last
time she saw Bill. A month after Bill was arrested, Jodie
suffered from severe physical and psychological withdrawal.
She became testy, irritable, and her behavior was erratic.
One day, a mother with her four-year old daughter sitting in
the child seat of the shopping cart was browsing the binders.
The daughter was whining about something. And the mother was
doing anything to address the whining, as far as Jodie could
tell. The whining turned to crying, but the mother ignored
it and turned to Jodie asking "Do you have these two-inch
binders in orange?" Jodie said "Lady, your fucking baby is
crying. Aren't you going to do something about it or do I
have to fucking throw the little shit out into the parking
lot?"

The store manager was one aisle away. The mother threatened
a lawsuit. Jodie was fired on the spot.

The discharge was deemed justified, and so Jodie was denied
unemployment insurance yet again.

That was four months ago. Jodie convinced her roommate to
accept sex for her rent contribution. That lasted until last
week when the roommate moved out. Jobless, no roommate and
behind in her rent is how we find Jodie this morning at the
cafe with her college friend Margo. One thing you should
know is that Jodie has been borrowing money from a local loan
shark in Brooklyn. She is into him for about $12,000, most
of which has gone up her nose. He is now demanding $4,000.

But everybody has their problems, and Margo considered
herself in somewhat of a pickle at work. She permitted
herself to have an affair with her boss, who was married, had
two kids and was 15 years older than Margo. Her boss, Hank,
has told Margo on several occasions that he loved her. Margo
took this somewhat with a grain of salt, but it made her feel
both good and awkward since she knew that this affair was
going to lead nowhere. The problem, though, is that Hank is
getting just a bit too serious, not to mention entitled and
jealous. Margo does not know what to do. Does she dump her
boss? Does she try to make him back off and maintain the
status quo? Does she look for a new job? Margo feels like
she royally screwed up. And so this is what prompted Margo
to call her good friend, Jodie, for a cup of Joe this morning
to seek her advice.

The last time Margo saw Jodie was during the Bill Berg period
when Jodie was flying pretty with coke and love and good
sales at Staples. Margo had met Bill one evening for drinks
with Jodie in a small sports bar in the Village during that
time. And as far as Margo could tell, Jodie was happy and
healthy.

Jodie is sitting at the cafe table fidgety, playing with her
coffee cup. Margo is also drinking coffee and noshing on
some breakfast food - possibly breaking some biscotti into
smaller pieces and popping them in her mouth. Margo is
wearing a wrist watch which she checks often.

MARGO
I didn't mean to drag you all the
way from Brooklyn so early. But
really thanks for coming.

JODIE
It's fine.

MARGO
I just don't know where to begin.
I have gotten myself into an
uncomfortable position and I
thought I'd bounce the situation
off you. To see what you think.

JODIE
Sure.

MARGO
I'm embarrassed to even say it. It
is such a classic case of
stupidity, almost banal.

JODIE
Go ahead.

MARGO
You promise not to think I'm an
idiot?

JODIE
Of course.

MARGO
OK. Here goes. I had an affair
with my boss. There, I said it.

JODIE
OK.

MARGO
Sorry. I misspoke. I am having an
affair with my boss.

JODIE
And that's like a problem, right?

MARGO
Yeah, particularly when he's
married. And has kids. Two of
them.

JODIE
Doesn't that make it better. No
commitment.

MARGO
Jodie, he's my boss. I have to
like be his employee all day and
then at odd hours during the day,
we find time to go to a hotel.
He pays, of course, but it is
getting out of hand.

JODIE
What's he falling in love or
something.

MARGO
That's the half of it. He is
getting demanding. Wants to now
introduce me to his kids, invite me
to a barbecue. Like an employee
party.

JODIE
So go.

MARGO
You don't seem very concerned for
my situation.

JODIE
It just doesn't feel like much of a
situation. I mean, look at you.
You look great. You are doing
well, right?

MARGO
You mean money wise? Yeah. I got
two raises in the past year, but I
cannot help but think that is
because we are sleeping together.

JODIE
A raise is a raise, Margo.

MARGO
Jodie, I am asking you. What
should I do?

JODIE
Fuck his brains out and then ask
for another raise.

MARGO
I'm not going to do that. I
thought you were going to tell me
to cut it off or to look for
another job.

JODIE
Why don't you threaten him with
telling his wife unless he gives
you money.

MARGO
OK, so you are joking now. I
forgot that sorority humor you had.
By the way, how are you? It looks
like you dragged your self out of
bed to get here. Jeeesh, I'm sorry
about that. But thanks. Really.

JODIE
Yeah. What's friends for.

MARGO
So...how are things with, what's
his name? Billy was it? Looked
like you two were a heavy item.

JODIE
He's like on sabbatical.

MARGO
From Staples? They give
sabbaticals?

JODIE
Margo, I was wondering if I
could...if...

Awkward pause.

MARGO
Yes?

JODIE
Never mind. It was a silly
thought.

MARGO
Tell me.

JODIE
Well, I am a little short on my
rent this month. My roommate moved
out, and I haven't been able to get
a new one yet, so I am in somewhat
of a bind.

MARGO
You need me to loan you some money?

JODIE
I'm sorry. I feel so uncomfortable
asking.

MARGO
A couple hundred would do?

JODIE
Well, actually, I need about four
thousand dollars.

MARGO
Four thousand? Your rent is...how
many months are you behind?

JODIE
It's not just for rent. Forget I
asked. Just drop it.

The air between the two has changed.

MARGO
Are you in some kind of trouble?

JODIE
No. No. I just need the money.

MARGO
You really don't...you don't look
your best, Jodie.

JODIE
Oh yeah. What does my best look
like?

Margo notices Jodie's hands. They seem to have tremors.

MARGO
I'm just saying that...I mean when
was the last time you took a
shower?

JODIE
What the fuck does that mean?

MARGO
Forget it.

JODIE
So I don't look as spiffy as you,
is that it?

MARGO
I didn't say that.

JODIE
You know you move out, leaving me
in a lurch. I had all these bills.
Then the new roommate... I just
feel like I really got fucked.

MARGO
You blame this on me?

JODIE
So now you are going to cut things
off with your loser friend. I
don't fit into your new life with
all its...whatever.

MARGO
Jodie, what's got into you?

JODIE
I get it, Margo. OK, I get it.

MARGO
I called you. I called you because
I had a problem.

JODIE
You don't know what the fuck a
problem is. You think fucking your
boss and getting raises each time
you give him a blow job is a
problem. Fuck. And fuck you.

Jodie gets up and leaves. Margo is stunned.

THE END.

Transition

2011-03-20T11:34:00.001-07:00

   INT APARTMENT MORNING

   BEN is sitting on a couch in a T-shirt and blue jeans. On
   the coffee table in front of him is a clear plastic bag
   filled with a white powder. Ben is scooping small amounts of
   the powder from the bag into small bags, sealing the smaller
   bags when they are each full. He then places them on a small
   digital scale and then piles them up, one by one. As he does
   this activity, he occasionally takes a sip from a cup of
   green tea that has the tea bag string with tag dangling over
   the cup edge. SUSAN walks in and sits on the couch or chair
   facing Ben. Susan is either in underwear or a sleek satin
   robe. She is holding a cup of coffee. She takes a sip of her
   coffee. Ben picks up his tea cup.

   BEN
   Coffee will kill you. You should
   really wean yourself from it.
   Switch to green tea.

   He gestures to the tea cup in his hand and takes a sip.
   Susan takes another sip, not really in defiance, though she
   smiles.

   SUSAN
   So you are going tonight?

   BEN
   I've been thinking about things.

   SUSAN
   Yeah.

   BEN
   What you said. Last night. About
   the house.

   SUSAN
   I said ranch.

   BEN
   Yeah. The ranch in Montana. On a
   thousand acres with horses.

   SUSAN
   People dream.

   BEN
   Yes, but you can't get the thousand
   acres and the horses without
   dreaming first. It's something my
   father never did.

   SUSAN
   You never mentioned your father.

   BEN
   I never knew him. He just
   abandoned us.

   SUSAN
   Well then how do you know he never
   had dreams?

   BEN
   You said you love me.

   SUSAN
   I did.

   BEN
   You said you wanted to spend the
   rest of our lives together.

   SUSAN
   I did.

   BEN
   And so tonight, I am going to
   return all this, deliver the money,
   and be out of this business.

   SUSAN
   You decided all that? Because of
   last night?

   BEN
   No just last night. I'm in love
   too, Susan. I have never...you
   just...I don't know how to say it.

   SUSAN
   Can I come?

   BEN
   Come?

   SUSAN
   Tonight. With you.

   BEN
   Oh, no. You can't. They'd get all
   weirded out.

   Susan rests the coffee cup on the coffee table, and then
   rises and walks around the coffee table and sits next to Ben.
   She places her hand on Ben's leg and picks up one of the
   small plastic bags of white powder with her other hand.

   SUSAN
   But this is your life, Ben. You
   make too much money to give this
   up. Besides, how are we going to
   afford the ranch and the horses.
   And the kids. I want kids.

   BEN
   You're not serious?

   SUSAN
   About the kids?

   BEN
   You don't really want me to
   continue selling this shit.

   SUSAN
   That's the point, Ben. That is why
   I must come tonight. I must come
   and see this transition you are
   about to make. Do you have any
   idea how love, how our love will be
   strengthened if we go through this
   transition together. And then,
   when it is over, we can take the
   next train to Montana and live in a
   trailer until we figure out how to
   get a thousand acres filled with
   running horses.

   BEN
   It's too dangerous.

   SUSAN
   Sometimes I think all your secrets,
   where you go for these deliveries,
   who the people are, that it is all
   something you are hiding from me.

   BEN
   I'm protecting you.

   SUSAN
   If we do not do this together, it
   will fester, it will be something
   that will haunt us, it will haunt
   me for the rest of our lives
   together that I never really knew
   this part of you. It would remain
   a secret part. Something hidden.
   Hidden from me, Ben. Can you live
   with that when I have opened
   everything in my life to you?

   BEN
   Everything?

   SUSAN
   How many months? Seven? We have
   known each other for seven months,
   and you have met my brother, you
   have spoken to my mother on the
   phone, and you have seen the
   restaurant. And I want you with me
   when I quit my job, just like I
   want to be with you when you quit
   your job.

   BEN
   Transitions?

   SUSAN
   Yeah. Together. We have to make
   them together.

   Ben smiles. They kiss.

   CUT TO BLACK.

   EXT WAREHOUSE

   Ben and Susan walk up top large heavy steel doors that are
   supported by red bricks that form the face of the side of a
   warehouse. Outside stands JEROME, a big guy, together with
   GREAR, a smaller guy. Ben has a large satchel on his
   shoulder.

   JEROME
   Who's this? (referring to Susan)

   BEN
   My girlfriend.

   JEROME
   Your girlfriend. You know the
   rules.

   BEN
   Lewis will understand.

   JEROME
   She stays outside.

   BEN
   No. No. It's important that Lewis
   meets her. Lewis will...Lewis will
   not be happy if you make her stay
   outside.

   Jerome looks at Grear. Grear looks at Jerome.

   JEROME
   (to Grear)
   Pat them down.

   Ben places the satchel on the ground and then holds his hands
   up. Jerome opens the satchel to check on its contents.
   Grear pats Ben from shoes to arm pits, looking for anything.
   Then he moves to Susan. Susan raises her arms. Grear pats
   Susan down, but he takes more relish in the procedure, not
   only patting her sides and pockets but from and back as well.
   Ben notices this, but knows better then to say something.

   GREAR
   What the...

   Grear pulls a cell phone out of Susan's jacket pocket. He
   holds it up for Jerome to see, and then tosses it to Jerome.

   JEROME
   What the fuck is this?

   BEN
   It's a mistake. I told her no cell
   phones. Susan?

   SUSAN
   I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I forgot.
   It's second nature to just pop it
   in my pocket.

   Jerome flips open the phone.

   JEROME
   Hey look, she's got a picture of a
   parrot on her phone.

   BEN
   You can just keep it. OK, Jerome.

   SUSAN
   Ben?

   BEN
   Susan. Keep the phone, Jerome.

   JEROME
   Hey, you think I'm a fucking jerk?
   I don't want Suzie's phone. Do I
   suzie?

   SUSAN
   No, you don't.

   Jerome smiles. He drops the phone on the ground and crushes
   it with his shoe. He then picks it up and tosses it to
   Susan, who catches it.

   JEROME
   Let them inside, Grear.

   Grear opens one of the large steel doors. Ben and Susan
   enter.

   INT WAREHOUSE CORRIDOR

   Ben and Susan walk down a corridor, at the end of which is a
   large room containing several people.

   BEN
   That was idiotic.

   SUSAN
   Sorry.

   BEN
   No. Jerome is an idiot. You
   scared?

   SUSAN
   Maybe a little.

   BEN
   You're brave.

   SUSAN
   So are you. So are you.

   INT WAREHOUSE BIG ROOM

   LEWIS sits on a chair, almost throne like.

   LEWIS
   Well, well, well. What do we have
   here? A little girl. Your baby
   sister?

   BEN
   This is my girlfriend.

   LEWIS
   Girlfriend? Ben here has a
   girlfriend?

   BEN
   Here's the money.

   Ben places the satchel on the ground and one of Lewis's
   assistants picks it up and takes it to a table.

   LEWIS
   You broke the rules, Ben. You
   broke the rules, which means I
   cannot trust you. Trust is
   everything in this business.

   BEN
   Yes, I know. You can trust me.

   LEWIS
   You broke the rules. You brought a
   stranger here. Trust. The world
   only works when it is greased with
   trust, Ben. You cannot do anything
   without trust. Trust leads to
   investment and returns....profits.
   The whole fucking economy is in the
   trash heap because no one can trust
   anyone anymore. But here, right
   here in this business, we are doing
   just fine because of trust.

   BEN
   Yes. I know.

   LEWIS
   Give me a reason that I should
   trust you now? Give me a reason.

   BEN
   Because I trust my girlfriend.
   Because I trust her.

   Lewis looks at Susan, examining her.

   LEWIS
   You have good taste, Ben.

   BEN
   Thank you.

   LEWIS
   But I have found that you cannot
   trust beautiful women.

   BEN
   This one...this one is golden.

   The Assistant that took the satchel to the table looks up
   from the open bag.

   ASSISTANT
   It's all here.

   LEWIS
   So is the girlfriend going to be
   your partner now?

   BEN
   Yes. Yes, but not exactly how you
   might think.

   At that moment, the entire large room is overrun with police
   officers who rush in with guns trained on everyone, grabbing
   Lewis and Ben and several others.

   EXT WAREHOUSE

   Lewis is led away in cuffs by two officers. Ben has been
   pushed down on the hood of a police car, he is in cuffs. He
   looks over at Susan, who stands with LYNDA, a police officer.

   LYNDA
   So the whole phone thing worked.

   Susan pulls the crushed cell phone out of her pocket.

   LYNDA (CONT'D)
   We told you to turn it off, not
   break it.

   SUSAN
   It served the same purpose, didn't
   it.

   LYNDA
   That it did. You did good work.

   Susan cannot look back to Ben who is being placed in a police
   car.

   SUSAN
   Yeah.

   LYNDA
   Personally, I don't have the
   stomach for undercover. You been
   playing this guy for six months.

   SUSAN
   Seven.

   LYNDA
   Like a puppet. You're good.
   You're very good. Now comes the
   shit part of the job. The
   paperwork.

   Lynda gets into a police car. Susan turns and watches the
   car that Ben is in drive away. She employs enormous strength
   to prevent herself from showing emotion.

   THE END.

Two Weeks

2010-11-26T12:19:00.001-08:00

               INT LIVING ROOM

               MARGO sits on a couch. Margo is wearing the kind of clothes
               one would wear if they have not left the house in days.
               Margo has not slept, she has not bathed, her hair is matted,
               her skin appears sallow. There are tissue boxes to the left
               and right of her on the couch, balled tissues lie about.
               There are also several prescription vials lying around.
               Margo holds a vile and occasionally blows her nose. Opposite
               Margo sits HARPER. Harper appears healthy and is dressed
               smartly, like possibly coming or going to her job. An
               awkward moment passes.

                                   HARPER
                         I made some phone calls. We have
                         options.

                                   MARGO
                         We?

                                   HARPER
                         Steven Jobs hired something called
                         a medical representative in every
                         state. The sole job of each rep
                         was to advise Jobs when a liver
                         became available. And when one
                         did, Jobs declared residency in
                         Tennessee on Monday and had the
                         liver transplant on Wednesday.

                                   MARGO
                         Sounds like a plan.

                                   HARPER
                         It is a plan. The only obstacle is
                         money.

                                   MARGO
                         Yeah. That money thing again.

                                   HARPER
                         Reps range in costs depending on
                         the state, but the average fee for
                         a six month retainer is about
                         $20,000.

                                   MARGO
                         I see. OK. So what's the math
                         with that?

                                   HARPER
                         One million.

                                   MARGO
                         Woo hoo. That's like...you know I
                         didn't even pay the rent this
                         month. You know why? I don't have
                         it. And I don't care. I just
                         don't care.

                                   HARPER
                         Like I said, Harper, I made phone
                         calls. I think I can get about
                         half the money together. We can
                         isolate the states with the highest
                         probability of a liver coming due.

                                   MARGO
                         And when we get a bingo, I just
                         pick up and move and, what, rent an
                         apartment and say this is my new
                         home?

                                   HARPER
                         Something like that.

                                   MARGO
                         The nurse called. Not the doctor.
                         The nurse. She's not even a nurse,
                         really. Just an assistant. Some
                         office worker, with perfect hair, a
                         tan, big blue eyes. She's fucking
                         the doctor.

                                   HARPER
                         Margo, I have already called a
                         consultant that handles everything.
                         We pay him and he does everything.

                                   MARGO
                         So you know what little miss blue
                         eyes said. Last night. Probably
                         just before she closed up shop and
                         gave the doctor a blow job, she
                         called me with the results. Like
                         she was in a hurry, but you don't
                         need much time to say two weeks. I
                         have two weeks.

                                   HARPER
                         We can make it happen. I have
                         papers here.

               Harper reaches into her bag and pulls out a file.

                                   HARPER (CONT'D)
                         I need your signature to grant the
                         consultant the authority to start
                         the process.

               At this moment, Margo pulls out a small handgun from her
               pocket or from a place hidden in the padded cracks of the
               couch. Harper sees the gun and stiffens.

                                   MARGO
                         We have options.

                                   HARPER
                         What are you doing with that?

                                   MARGO
                         Ever since Mom and Dad died, my
                         Uncle Louie gave me this. Crazy
                         old Uncle Louie. Thinks every guy
                         with a pair of eyes is out to rape
                         me.

                                   HARPER
                         Margo, just put that down.

                                   MARGO
                         You should go. Unless of course
                         you want to stay and watch. You
                         can clean up. Or call the police.
                         By the way, I don't want to be
                         cremated. I want an open casket.
                         And I want you to see who shows up.

                                   HARPER
                         Margo...Margo...this is not an
                         option.

               Harper gets up to grab the gun, but Margo pushes her back,
               rather violently; Harper falling back into her chair. Margo
               is pointing the gun at Harper - Harper seated, Margo
               standing.

                                   MARGO
                         I have nothing. Everything's been
                         taken from me. Everything. But
                         this. This gun is the only power I
                         have left. Power. It gives me life
                         because it can take my life.

                                   HARPER
                         Stop pointing that at me.

               Margo cocks the gun and places its barrel to her own temple.

                                   HARPER (CONT'D)
                         Margo!

                                   MARGO
                         It is nothing more than going to
                         sleep. And sleep is better than
                         being awake and watching myself
                         die.

                                   HARPER
                         You want an open casket? You want
                         people to come and see you? Well
                         then blowing your head off is not
                         going to be anything pretty to look
                         at.

                                   MARGO
                         They can make me look good.

                                   HARPER
                         No they can't. Not with the side
                         of your head exploded. They can't
                         stuff the brains back in so easily.

               This seems to carry some weight with Margo.

                                   MARGO
                         So where then? The head is the
                         only thing that makes it certain.
                         It has to be certain.

                                   HARPER
                         Margo. Killing yourself is
                         certain. Other than that, there is
                         no certainty. Maybe, just maybe,
                         you won't die in two weeks. You
                         hear stories. People miraculously
                         survive.

                                   MARGO
                             (weakening)
                         No they don't.

                                   HARPER
                         They do.

                                   MARGO
                         Why did this happen to me?

               Margo's hand holding the gun drops to her side.

                                   MARGO (CONT'D)
                         What did I do? My parents.
                         Everyone who ever loved me, gone.

               Margo falls to the couch, exhausted, spent. Harper sits next
               to Margo. She takes the handgun and un-cocks it. She places
               it aside and puts her arm around Margo. Margo does not
               return the hug, but she accepts Harper's.

                                   HARPER
                         We will turn the two weeks into two
                         months, and then two years. We
                         will keep going, moving. OK
                         sweetheart.

                                   MARGO
                         Yeah. OK.

                                                               THE END.

A Little Misunderstanding

2010-11-21T03:56:00.000-08:00

INT SMALL ROOM

TERESA sits on a chair over a coffee table examining a chess board which is set up with pieces in the middle of a game. Teresa seems fidgety. A moment passes. NICKY walks in and sits down opposite Teresa. Nicky is wearing black gloves and a loose jacket. She looks at the chess board. Teresa looks at Nicky.

TERESA
Did you do it?

NiCKY
You didn't move.

TERESA
Nicky, did you do it?

NICKY
Yes.

TERESA
Good.

NICKY
Are you going to move?

TERESA
What was all the yelling about? I could hear it way down here.

NICKY
He wasn't happy about it, Teresa.

TERESA
Yeah. OK. But the screaming. Why was he screaming?

NICKY
He was in pain. You know you are in check.

TERESA
Well, he should be in pain. I hope it hurt. Jeeeesh, was he really in so much pain? I did not know he even cared.

NICKY
You need to focus on the board, Teresa.

Teresa looks down, and then up again at Nicky.

TERESA
Did he say anything?

NICKY
Nope.

TERESA
No?

NICKY
He said "what the fuck."

TERESA
Why would he say that?

NICKY
Teresa, what kind of ditz are you? He was surprised. Wouldn't you be?

TERESA
Look Nicky, if I was screwing around with another man, I would not be surprised if my finance broke up with me. The fact that he was surprised means he's an arrogant asshole. I am glad he was in pain. I hope he is still hurting.

Nicky reaches for Teresa's king and moves it.

NICKY
You only have one move, so I just did it.

TERESA
Was he crying when you left him?

NICKY
Of course not.

TERESA
Bastard. What a bastard. I bet...I bet he was crying inside. Inside. Yep. He just didn't want to show it. Typical of men.

NICKY
Oh, he was crying.

TERESA
He was?

NICKY
Like a baby. They get that way when they know it is over.

TERESA
Oh...oh, maybe I did the wrong thing. Maybe he is still...you know, that affair he had, it really was nothing. The girl was...it meant nothing to him, I am sure. You think it meant anything to him?

NICKY
I wouldn't know, Teresa. But I never cared for Bob.

TERESA
You never cared...why not? Bob is a great guy.

NICKY
This is really no time to get misty.

TERESA
We were about to pick a wedding date, you know.

Nicky moves one of her pieces on the chess board.

NICKY
You're in check again.

TERESA
I'm going to tell him that I forgive him and everything is OK.

Teresa starts to get up. Nicky stops her by a gesture or by the sound of her voice.

NICKY
Where are you going?

TERESA
I'm going to talk to Bob.

NICKY
OK, so you are either joking or you have a loose screw. Bob is dead.

TERESA
Nicky, you are so fast to dismiss people. Bob and I are in love. We went through a tiny little rough patch.

NICKY
You told me to get rid of him. Your exact words were to "whack the asshole."

TERESA
And apparently you did with all that screaming. Bob is hurting right now. I see that.
Nicky reaches into her jacket and pulls out a hammer (which has a bloody head) and a knife (which is also bloody). Nicky places these items on either side of the chess board. Teresa goes wide eyed.

NICKY
I whacked him, Teresa. So Bob is no longer hurting. And you cannot talk with Bob because he won't respond. So I suggest you move on with your life.

TERESA
You...you killed him?

NICKY
Oh, so are you telling me I misunderstood you?

Teresa is overwhelmed, feels sick. She then vomits all over the chessboard. She does this below the frame of the CAMERA.

NICKY (CONT'D)
Oh shit.

Teresa's head rises up. She is wiping her mouth with her sleeve or possibly her shirt.

NICKY (CONT'D)
Great job.

TERESA
I hate chess. I think you should clean it up.

NICKY
You think, huh?

TERESA
You caused this.

NICKY
So are we OK, now?

TERESA
Nicky, you know...next time try not to be so dramatic.

NICKY
Sticks and stones break bones. It's the only way to get the point across. I'll clean up.

Nicky gets up.

Fade to black.

Jane's Insight

2010-07-21T19:12:00.000-07:00

Jane sits in a chair at a treatment center for teenagers and young adults. She is in an office with a therapist or a counselor.

JANE

So...so how does this work? You ask me questions and I answer, right?....No...so what am I supposed to do, just like talk...about anything?...Really. Well that’s lame. What if I have nothing to say...huh, what about that? That would screw up the whole process, right? You know...you know, that staring you are doing, at me...at me, is like some technique to get me to talk? Right? Well, it’s not going to work. The nurse...Nurse "what’s her name" does that...the silent treatment. I can be asking for drugs...you know, a little pain medication and she does exactly what you are doing...staring. Oooooo, like that is going to spook me into not asking for some pills....What? Oh, I see, yeah, OK, you, you are not the nurse, yeah...you're trying to get me to talk...yeah, yeah, you said that. Well, OK then, I want out of here? It’s been two months. Two months and what, four days. Four days. The judge said two months max in rehab. So why, so why am I still here? Uh? Why? Can you tell me that?...Of course not. Why should you know. You’re just the shrink. So how am I doing? Am I recovered? Anger management. I’ve been doing that...lot’s of fucking anger just being managed...I’m managing it. No drugs, no booze, and I ain’t fucking hit anyone. Not yet, anyway. Write that down. Put that in my file. I am as cured as cured can get. Yep. Write that the fuck down. You know...you know, I hate this place. You all think it is so easy out there. Like I should be so goddamn lucky to be alive...and wake up and see the sunrise or the sunset or watch little children play or smell the little fucking flowers. Well, it ain't that way. You can't know because you all with your "I am better than you" faces and fancy houses and jobs and all the shit you have...you're are all fucking deluded...you are the deluded ones, not me. We know, we know, all of us locked away, we know that life sucks. It's you who are living a lie. You should be locked away. I should be sittin' there where you're sittin' and analyzing you. Got that. You're the sick one. Not me. That's right, not me.

The Monkey House

2010-07-01T15:43:00.000-07:00

INT NOON

POV from a zoo cage looking through vertical bars. The
CAMERA is low, tilted up. CLAIRE stands impatiently,
glancing at her watch, looking down at the CAMERA, which is
behind bars. Suddenly BILLY pops in.

BILLY
Hi.

CLAIRE
You’re late.

BILLY
I’d like to know why they place birds
over there and lions over there and right
in the middle is the Monkey House. Does
that make sense?

CLAIRE
Did you bring the nuts?

BILLY
Yeah.

Billy offers the brown bag of peanuts to Claire.

CLAIRE
Feed him.

Billy starts pulling out peanuts from the paper bag, cracking
them open and throwing the shelled peanuts toward the camera.

BILLY
I’m feeling like this meeting you’ve set
up here is not going to bring me good
news, particularly after last night.

CLAIRE
What are you doing?

BILLY
I’m trying to talk to you.

CLAIRE
You’re de-shelling the peanuts. Baboons
don’t eat de-shelled peanuts. See how
they’re just lying at his feet. They
like to open them themselves.

BILLY
Is that what it is? A baboon.

CLAIRE
Notice the blue snout and the large
hands. I like the large hands.

BILLY
I didn’t know you had an interest in
monkeys.

CLAIRE
Baboons. I have an interest in baboons.

BILLY
This doesn’t extend to humans, does it?

CLAIRE
No. I have higher expectations from
baboons.

BILLY
Listen, about last night…I swear this
is a phase. I have these phases where
things don’t work.

CLAIRE
Phases?

BILLY
Yeah.

CLAIRE
How long do these phases last?

BILLY
I don’t know.

CLAIRE
Are we talking days, weeks, months?

BILLY
Actually, this current phase has been
lasting for about…for about a year or
so.

CLAIRE
A year or so? What does the “so” mean?
People don’t say a year or so unless they
mean longer than a year. Feed the
baboon.

BILLY
Look, this is embarrassing to me.

CLAIRE
There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,
Billy. I am understanding. I am
compassionate. I am tolerant of your
medical condition.

BILLY
I don’t have a medical condition. This
is not medical. It’s psychological. I
have…I have fears.

CLAIRE
Fears?

BILLY
Yes…what is he doing? (pointing to the
baboon)’

CLAIRE
You don’t recognize what he’s doing?

BILLY
No. Yes. But…I’ve never seen such a
thing.

CLAIRE
You’ve never masterbated?

BILLY
I’ve never seen an animal masterbate.
Can we move to the Bird House, Claire.

CLAIRE
No. I want to see this.

BILLY
See what?

CLAIRE
I gave him one of these.

Claire hands Billy a capped vial. Billy looks at the label.

BILLY (cont’d)
You gave him…this is for humans.

CLAIRE
It appears to be working on our friend.
Anyway, I want you to try them.

BILLY
You brought me to the Monkey House to
convince me to take Viagra?

CLAIRE
Look at the size of his…aren’t you
convinced?

BILLY
These are for old men, men with high
blood pressure, men like Bob Dole and
Strom Thurmond. I’m healthy. I ran the
New York City Marathon last year. I
don’t need these.

CLAIRE
You’re impotent, Billy.

Billy doubles over in pain.

BILLY
Please…please don’t use that word.

CLAIRE
Yeah, OK…you have fears. It’s
psychological. But don’t you think this
baboon has fears? Don’t you think he’s
in a stressful situation, ripped from
his homeland, living in a cage. I think
your psychological stresses are far less
severe than our baboon.

BILLY
His cage is bigger than my apartment. He
doesn’t pay rent. All his meals are
served to him.

CLAIRE
Take one right now. Here’s a bottle of
water. We’ll go back to my apartment. I
have everything set up.

BILLY
Did you ever think it just might be these
peanuts…or maybe your legs. How do you
know if it was these pills?

CLAIRE
Look at him. Look at the smile on his
face. Do you see that? Do you see the
size.

BILLY
That baboon is happy and content and has
low expectations. I have none of those
things.

CLAIRE
Yeah…that’s why you have a therapist.

BILLY
And anyway, just because he has an
erection, doesn’t mean he can climax,
Claire. And that’s an important part of
my experience.

At that moment, a milky substance squirts onto Billy’s pants.

CLAIRE
Meet me at my apartment in thirty
minutes. That’s how long the pills take.

Claire leaves. Billy stands there alone with the baboon.

THE END.

The Harleys

2010-07-01T15:39:00.000-07:00

INT ANTEROOM OFF CONCERT HALL

JOOLES is standing dressed in all black leather with lots of brushed nickel hardware hanging from her. Jooles is holding a bottle of water. BONNIE, dressed in a business suit, is holding a leather portfolio and a bottle of beer. PIPER is sitting on a chair. And DAWN is sitting on a chair. Piper and Dawn have semi-biker outfits on mixed with a sprinkling of high school prom accessories.

BONNIE
OK. So you guys were just sued by Harley Davidson. They claim your use of the name “The Harleys” violates their trademark and copyright and whole bunch of other stuff.

JOOLES
So handle it.

BONNIE
What do you mean “handle it?” This is serious.

JOOLES
No, Bonnie. No, Bonnie. Our music is serious. Our music. This, this lawsuit is a mere irritation. You handle irritations.

DAWN
Yeah. Tell it like it is.

JOOLES
Dawn, did you take something? How are you going to play bass if you are fucked up?

DAWN
I’ll just follow Piper’s lead. What are we doing tonight, like four-four time for everything. Yeah, like that’s difficult.

PIPER
Not everything. We’re playing Give Me A Rolex which is three-four time.

DAWN
We’re playing that?

JOOLES
No. We are not playing that.

PIPER
What the fuck. You promised.

JOOLES
It needs work, like the words, Piper. They are ridiculous.

PIPER
Bonnie. Bonnie, tell Miss Boss Rock Band Girl that its in my contract. It’s in my contract. I get to do at least one of my songs per concert.

BONNIE
It’s in the contract.

JOOLES
Give Me A Rolex is not a song. It’s noise.

DAWN
Give me a Rolex, oh give me a Rolex and then we will have sex and then we will have sex.

BONNIE
Dawn’s voice is not bad, you know.

DAWN
Thanks Bonnie.

PIPER
Those are great lyrics.

BONNIE
Yeah, when Dawn sings them.

JOOLES
When Dawn sings them? When Dawn sings them? Is this like some new thinking, Bonnie? Some managerial change you are trying to orchestrate?

BONNIE
I’m just saying Dawn has a pleasing voice.

JOOLES
She’s fucked up. She’s fucked up on something. What did you take asshole?

DAWN
Hey. That’s not nice.

BONNIE
Dawn has way more talent than you give her credit for.

DAWN
Yeah, Bonnie baby.

PIPER
I’ll sing them. Shit, they are my
words.

JOOLES
What? With that mousey voice. You can’t sing and you know it. I’m partners with a Mickey Mouse drummer and a fucked up bassist.

DAWN
I am not fucked up. Am I fucked up, Bonnie?

BONNIE
Not totally. Unless of course you finished the whole bag.

JOOLES
Oh, fuck. Whole bag? You going to fall asleep standing up playing the bass tonight, Dawn?

BONNIE
Did you finish the whole bag, Dawn?

DAWN
No. Well, maybe a little.

BONNIE
That was for after, Dawn.

PIPER
That was for after? Bonnie, you are supposed to be the mature one. The one keeping us healthy and into the music.

BONNIE
Let Dawn sing your song. If nothing else, it will help keep her awake.

JOOLES
In her state Piper’s words will come out slurred like sewage.

DAWN
Those words will sound better slurred.

PIPER
Fuck you, Dawn.

DAWN
Hey man, I’m on your side. Jooles, it’s in the contract. You know you got to do one of my songs too.

JOOLES
You’ve never written a song.

DAWN
Yeah, well, when I do.

BONNIE
We wrote a song together, Dawn, remember. You have to remember.

DAWN
Of course. Yeah, of course. Like what was it again?

BONNIE
In fact, we wrote three songs. Last month in Cleveland.

PIPER
You guys wrote three songs?

JOOLES
You can’t be writing songs without my knowledge.

BONNIE
You know I am getting tired of being treated like shit, Jooles. I am the manager. Can we not forget this crucial fact.

JOOLES
And what do you manage, Bonnie, except for Dawn’s drug therapy, keeping her stoned like she is your little plaything.

BONNIE
She’s not my plaything.

DAWN
Yeah. I am not a plaything.

PIPER
This is not fun anymore. We all came together for the music. The music. Can you guys remember that?

JOOLES
This stupid silly band is merely an excuse for launching my career. We came together for that Piper.

PIPER
You are such an asshole, Jooles.

BONNIE
Yeah, Jooles, try going out there all by yourself. Go on. Try it. See if you can make music without Dawn and Piper.

JOOLES
I will. I am going to go out without you jerks. All by myself.

BONNIE
Yeah, but did you see the signs? The signs that the fans are holding. “We love you Dawn.” “We love drum stick Piper.” I did not see one sign saying they love you, Jooles. Not one. Try to handle the crowd without them. Go on, try. The fans love Dawn and Piper. They love them.

JOOLES
I’m the lead singer. I play lead guitar. I am the voice and face of this group. You are not suggesting I stop being the face of the group?

PIPER
My face is like totally superior to yours. Your face is so…so normal.

JOOLES
Normal? This? This face is normal?

PIPER
Why was Dawn’s face on the cover of Spin Magazine and not yours, huh? Because Dawn’s face is not normal.

DAWN
My face is not normal?

PIPER
I should have been on that cover, you know.

DAWN
You weren’t at the shoot.

PIPER
Yeah, but if I was.

JOOLES
I wasn’t at the shoot either. So the cover thing means nothing.

BONNIE
The cover thing meant a lot. I got a call for Dawn to be interviewed on VH1.

JOOLES
What? Dawn the drug addict?

BONNIE
They think she’s quirky.

DAWN
Yeah, they think I’m quirky. So there.

JOOLES
This is like really bad, Bonnie. I am the lead. I am the lead. I should be interviewed.

PIPER
What about me? Did they ask for me?

BONNIE
No. They didn’t mention you.

PIPER
But I’m the skinny drummer. Skinny as a drumstick. It was your marketing thing, remember. What happened to that?

BONNIE
Anorexia is out, Piper.

JOOLES
This is not about marketing. This is about who is the leader, the voice, the brains behind this band.

PIPER
Brains. You think you’re the brains? I taught you timing. I taught you scales. I taught you music theory. I made you, Jooles.

JOOLES
Nobody will believe the drummer knows anything about music theory.

PIPER
I have a degree. From a college.

DAWN
Yeah, but I’m getting the magazine covers and the VH1 interviews. It’s me…it’s me…actually, it’s me who don’t feel so good.

At this point, Dawn falls over and is out. Piper rushes to her.

PIPER
Dawn? Dawn. Snap out of it.

Dawn moans.

PIPER
Someone get her some water. Shit. What are we going to do?

Jooles grabs Bonnie and pulls her close. They speak in a whisper.

JOOLES
What the fuck is going on? You are losing control of Dawn. And without Dawn we are fucked.

BONNIE
She faints. Now and then. I’ll give her a few poppers. She’ll snap out of it.

JOOLES
I hate this.

BONNIE
Don’t worry about it, Jooles. Dawn has no clue she is the musical heart of the group. She has no idea she really wrote all those number one hits.

JOOLES
And so what are you doing telling her about the songs you two wrote. You trying to jog her memory?

BONNIE
Look, Dawn has some psychiatric illness. But for Piper, it’s not a worry.

JOOLES
Piper is catching on you know. She’s becoming a problem.

PIPER
I actually can’t do the drums without Dawn. You know, I follow her lead. Dawn sets the rhythm. Dawn sets the rhythm. I can’t do this without her.

Jooles tosses water from her water bottle onto Dawn.

PIPER
Hey.

Dawn opens her eyes.

DAWN
Whoa. Wow. Jeez. Is everyone OK?

Piper helps her up.

JOOLES
Get her feeling better. We have to go on. We all have to go on.

PIPER
Dawn, don’t do that again.

DAWN
Do what?

PIPER
That fainting thing.

DAWN
Is that what I did?

JOOLES
I’ll sing it.

PIPER
What?

JOOLES
I’ll sing your song. The Rolex song. I’ll sing it.

PIPER
Yeah. Well. Great. Thanks. OK. So the words are not great. But you can do something with them. You know, Jooles. You turn them into gold.

JOOLES
Yeah. Sure.

DAWN
Hey, I feel better.

BONNIE
She’ll be able to play.

Bonnie goes to Dawn who seems a bit wobbly.

JOOLES
By the way, Bonnie, tell Harley Davidson to go fuck themselves. We are the Harleys.

PIPER
I don’t care about names. For me, it’s about the music.

DAWN
Yeah, Piper Diaper, it’s about the music.

PIPER
Stop calling me that. It’s not funny.

DAWN
Sorry. It just makes me laugh.

JOOLES
Piper’s right. It’s not funny.

PIPER
Thanks, Jooles.

Piper walks out with her drum sticks.

JOOLES
You get Dawn all ready. OK, Bonnie.

BONNIE
Yeah. Sure.

Jooles walks out with her guitar in hand.

BONNIE
You OK?

DAWN
Yeah.

BONNIE
Can you play?

DAWN
Yeah. Can I have another hit?

BONNIE
I’ll give you some pops to get you through the concert.

DAWN
Yeah. Uppers.

BONNIE
Let’s go.

DAWN
The Harleys, Bonnie.

BONNIE
Yeah, Dawn. The Harleys.

Bonnie walks her out, propping her up. The CAMERA pans down to show Dawn’s bass guitar sitting on the floor. Suddenly a hand comes in and grabs it. It is Dawn. She plucks a string.

DAWN
(to herself)
It’s out of tune. Oh, yeah. I know that. I know that. I’m OK. I’m OK.

Dawn rises and runs out of the room.

THE END.

The Red Chair

2010-07-01T09:38:00.000-07:00

Characters, Time and Place
Donna Raffle, 32 years old
Old Woman, 85 years old
Ms. Stewart, 25-30 years old
Manager, 35-45 years old
Young Man, 25-30 years old
Time: A.D. 2009
Place: An urban area of the United States

A reception area of the Future View Corporation. A couch, a couple of chairs and a reception console. Ms. Stewart sits on the couch. She is weeping timidly. No one is at the reception console. Ms. Stewart is alone. Donna Raffle walks through the front door. Petite, Donna sits on one of the chairs, placing her purse on her lap. Ms. Stewart continues to weep, but more discreetly. The two women acknowledge each other. A few moments pass.

MS. STEWART
Is this your first time?

DONNA
Yes. I didn’t realize people did this more than once.

MS. STEWART
Oh yes.

DONNA
How many times have you been here?

MS. STEWART
This was supposed to be my first.

DONNA
What happened?

MS. STEWART
They said…they said…

Ms. Stewart starts to cry.

MS. STEWART
Sorry. I didn’t expect this to happen. Nobody told me this could happen. They should prepare you, you know. You figure you pay your money and they could at least put on a good show or something. But no. Not them, not that damn computer.

DONNA
I’m not sure I understand.

MS. STEWART
They have nothing for me. The computer came up with nothing. Zip. Damn thing, as if it’s some kind of God.

DONNA
What did the computer say?

MS. STEWART
That I don’t make it. Hah! What does it know. My great grandmother is still alive, barely. She can still walk around. And I’m not even thirty yet. The computer’s not always right. They said it’s not infallible. Makes mistakes.

DONNA
I’m sure.

MS. STEWART
The computer have something for
you?

DONNA
I expect so. They called me for an
appointment.

MS. STEWART
You’re doing it now?

DONNA
At eleven o’clock.

MS. STEWART
This is so silly. I don’t know why I’m so upset. It’s just a game. Entertainment. You know, like the movies. They’re giving me my money back.

DONNA
Is that why you’re here?

MS. STEWART
I was here for my ten o’clock appointment. Everything was set. Then they tell me they have nothing. So they’re giving me my money back.

DONNA
Really. So maybe they’ll have nothing for me.

MS. STEWART
Maybe.

The office manager walks out from the back room.

MANAGER
I have your check Ms. Stewart.

Ms. Stewart pops up, grabs the check out of the manager's hand and turns to walk out.

MS. STEWART (to Donna)
Enjoy the show.

Ms. Stewart leaves via the front door.

MANAGER
Can I help you?

DONNA
Yes. I’m Donna Raffle. I have an eleven o’clock appointment.

MANAGER
You’re early.

Donna gets up and walks to the reception console.

DONNA
Yes, I know.

MANAGER
But everything is ready and we had a cancellation, so you can start now.

DONNA
Everything’s ready?

MANAGER
Yes.

DONNA
You mean you have something?

MANAGER
What do you mean?

DONNA
The computer came up with something?

MANAGER
Yes, of course.

DONNA
Ms. Stewart was quite upset.

MANAGER
Yes. It happens. You understand how this works?

DONNA
Not really.

MANAGER
Did you read the brochure?

DONNA
Yes, but I would still appreciate an explanation.

MANAGER
I wonder sometimes why we have a brochure. Do you see that door over there?

DONNA
Yes.

MANAGER
That’s the holography chamber. You go through that door and sit on the red chair at the table. Don’t wander around the room. Go directly to the red chair and sit down.

DONNA
OK.

MANAGER
When your settled, I will direct the computer to start the session. Do you understand?

DONNA
Yes.

MANAGER
This was all in the brochure. A couple of things you should know.

The manager looks at a document on the console.

MANAGER
The computer projected your date of death to be August 17, 2065. So the holographic image you will meet is the future you on August 17, 2055.

DONNA
2065. That would make me…

MANAGER
95. The computer projects you will die at 95.

DONNA
That’s all!

The manager gives her a once over.

MANAGER
Short people usually don’t make it that long. I wouldn’t complain.

DONNA
Why is it ten years before my date of death?

MANAGER
It’s in the brochure. It’s part of the programming. On average, it’s a good date. Ten years puts you far enough away from the DOD that you are generally healthy enough to carry on a conversation, but far enough along to give our customers some interesting insights.

DONNA
What happened to Ms. Stewart?

MANAGER
Her projected DOD was four years from now. That would make her holographic image younger than she currently is. The computer goes into default. We refund the money.

DONNA
Makes sense.

MANAGER
Do not attempt to touch the image. It is not really there anyway, but the computer does not permit any invasive movement into its projected hologram.

DONNA
OK.

MANAGER
And the computer is sensitive. The holograms it creates believe they are real people. Don’t question her humanity. Are you ready?

DONNA
Yes. How long do I have with her, with the image?

MANAGER
We guarantee a half-hour minimum.

DONNA
So much money for just half an hour.

MANAGER
Go through the door and sit on the red chair. There is an intercom on the table. Use it if you have a question.

Donna goes through the door to the holography chamber. The stage turns to reveal the chamber. The chamber is a simple room, almost metallic in appearance. There is a table with a red chair. An intercom box sits on the table in front of the red chair. Donna sits down on the red chair. A few moments pass. Nothing happens. Donna presses the button on the intercom.

DONNA
Excuse me.

MANAGER
Yes.

DONNA
Nothing is happening.

MANAGER
The computer is assessing your presense, making some last second changes.

DONNA
Really. It does that?

MANAGER
It was in the brochure. Just relax for another half minute.

A moment passes. From behind a curtain, an old woman appears, slumped in a wheel chair, moving slowly and with some trouble. She wears a flower print dress and wheels slowly to a point opposite Donna on the other side of the table. Donna watches intently. They stare at each other. Donna presses the intercom button.

DONNA
Excuse me.

MANAGER
Yes?

DONNA
I think there is some mistake.

MANAGER
What’s the problem?

DONNA
Are you sure you put the right disk into the computer?

MANAGER
We do not make such mistakes.

DONNA
Yea, but she doesn’t look like me.

MANAGER
Well of course dear, you’ve aged.

DONNA
But there is like absolutely no resemblence.

MANAGER
I can see it. Just relax. The first few moments are always a shock. Get to know her.

Donna releases the intercom button. She again stares at the old woman. A moment passes. Donna presses the intercom button again.

DONNA
Excuse me.

MANAGER
What is it now?

DONNA
She’s not saying anything.

MANAGER
You have to initiate. She will not be good at initiating.

DONNA
OK. Sorry.

Donna releases the intercom button.

DONNA
Hi.

OLD WOMAN
Hello.

DONNA
Why do you need a wheelchair?

OLD WOMAN
I can’t walk.

DONNA
I can see. But why can’t you walk?

OLD WOMAN
My legs do not work.

DONNA
Yes, but why?

OLD WOMAN
Not enough blood flows to them anymore.

DONNA
I see. My name is Donna. Donna Raffle.

OLD WOMAN
My name is Donna Stern.

DONNA
Your maiden name is Raffle?

OLD WOMAN
Yes.

DONNA
When did you become Donna Stern?

OLD WOMAN
Thirty-two years ago.

DONNA
Thirty-two years ago. That’s nice. That would make you 53. You got married when you were 53?

OLD WOMAN
Yes.

DONNA
Why did you wait so long?

OLD WOMAN
I didn’t.

DONNA
I would say 53 is a long time.

OLD WOMAN
I was 34 when I was first married.

DONNA
That’s two years from now.

OLD WOMAN
That was 51 years ago.

DONNA
Who was your first husband?

OLD WOMAN
Jonathan Zingman.

DONNA
Jonathan Zingman. What a ridiculous name.

OLD WOMAN
I never cared for it either.

DONNA
I don’t know any Zingman.

OLD WOMAN
He was a wonderful man.

DONNA
After Zingman you married a Stern?

OLD WOMAN
Harold Stern.

DONNA
Two jews?

OLD WOMAN
Yes.

DONNA
How did that happen?

OLD WOMAN
It just happened.

DONNA
Where did you meet this Zingman person?

OLD WOMAN
At the bank where I worked.

DONNA
I don’t work at a bank.

OLD WOMAN
I worked at a bank.

DONNA
I work at a television network.

OLD WOMAN
So did I. I was fired.

DONNA
Fired?

OLD WOMAN
Yes.

DONNA
Why were you fired?

OLD WOMAN
A lawsuit.

DONNA
I don’t understand.

OLD WOMAN
The network was sued because of me. They weren’t happy. They fired me.

DONNA
They would never do that.

OLD WOMAN
They did it.

DONNA
What did I do?

OLD WOMAN
I did a story.

DONNA
About who?

OLD WOMAN
I was always doing a story.

DONNA
Yes, but what story are you referring to?

OLD WOMAN
You are doing a story now.

DONNA
I don’t do technology stories. No, the one that got me fired.

OLD WOMAN
I can’t say.

DONNA
Why not?

OLD WOMAN
Confidentiality. It was part of the settlement. I don’t talk, all I lose is my job, nothing more.

DONNA
All you lose is your job! What else is there for chrissake?

OLD WOMAN
It wasn’t so bad.

DONNA
Who sued the network?

OLD WOMAN
A Japanese company. They owned a business here. My story almost ruined the business.

DONNA
If I did the story, then it’s public knowledge. You can tell me.

OLD WOMAN
I agreed not to talk about it. I keep my agreements.

DONNA
Come on, you can’t get into trouble. You’re just a computer image. Tell me.

The old woman starts to turn her wheel chair and wheel away.

DONNA
Where are you going? Please wait. I’m sorry. Please. I didn’t know what I was saying.

The old woman stops. Before turning, she pulls a handkerchief out of a pocket and wipes her eyes. She turns and wheels back to the table.

OLD WOMAN
I knew you were going to do that. I thought I was prepared. I’m sorry.

DONNA
No. Really. It was cruel of me.

The old woman struggles to gain her composure.

DONNA
So you can’t tell me anymore about why I was fired from the network.

OLD WOMAN
No.

DONNA
OK. What happened after you were fired?

OLD WOMAN
Nothing.

DONNA
What TV station did I go to?

OLD WOMAN
I didn’t go to a TV station.

DONNA
Why not?

OLD WOMAN
No one wanted me.

DONNA
Why not?

OLD WOMAN
I was blacklisted.

DONNA
By who?

OLD WOMAN
The networks.

DONNA
Why?

OLD WOMAN
The story. I was very arrogant. The Japanese do not like arrogance.

DONNA
Just because of one story. What about the newspapers?

OLD WOMAN
No. I wasn’t really a writer.

DONNA
But I am. You were.

OLD WOMAN
I thought I was. I’ve since learned better.

DONNA
That’s ridiculous.

OLD WOMAN
I tried. I tried very hard. Wrote some pieces. Freelance. No one bought.

DONNA
What about your friends? Your friends at the publishers? The editors? I know dozens of editors.

OLD WOMAN
No one bought.

DONNA
Why? It makes no sense.

OLD WOMAN
They said I was not a writer. Good in front of the camera, but not a writer.

DONNA
I was a writer before I became a television reporter.

OLD WOMAN
I know. That’s what I said. But then I realized that everything I’ve accomplished was a result of my looks, my personality.

DONNA
Oh bullshit, who told you that?

OLD WOMAN
I can see it clearly from here. You are very attractive. More than I thought. A good face.

DONNA
I have more than a good face.

OLD WOMAN
Yes.

DONNA
So did you.

OLD WOMAN
Yes. Perhaps.

DONNA
Sounds like you gave up?

OLD WOMAN
It is easy to dream when you are young.

DONNA
I’m not dreaming. I’m doing.

OLD WOMAN
As you get older, you do less and less.

DONNA
Not if I stay healthy.

OLD WOMAN
I remember how so much you crave a star, how your youthful steps seem like leaps, like you are walking on the moon. You taste the sweet air of your journey’s end before you arrive. But you never will arrive. Time will pass and your legs will grow heavy, every move will get shorter and harder. That star you so covet will remain a mere shimmering point like the fixed horizon that never gets closer. You reach with outstretched hand, but you will grasp nothing but leaves.

DONNA
I didn’t come here for poetry.

OLD WOMAN
Facts are hard. Poetry is easier.

DONNA
I deal in facts. Facts are my business.

OLD WOMAN
Not when about yourself. We do not hear the truth when it’s about ourselves. I sat in that red chair fifty-three years ago, and I didn’t listen. We are deaf when the speaker speaks of us. We let the tiller rattle in the wind, and our lives inevitably lead to a place where the current travels, a place already mapped out for us.

DONNA
This is all you have for me? A sophomoric philosophy lecture.

OLD WOMAN
You will remember these words. You will repeat them. Eventually, you will lower your binoculars, and you will look at what you have in your hand (beat) and it will please you.

DONNA
I hardly think working for a bank will ever please me.

OLD WOMAN
A child appreciates small things. This is also true when you are old.

DONNA
How did you end up working for a bank?

OLD WOMAN
I went through my savings. I had to pay my rent. It was a good job.

DONNA
You gave up. I would not give up like that. This is wrong. You’ve got this wrong.

OLD WOMAN
The bank gave me something I never had before. It changed my life.

DONNA
Were you at least earning big money?

OLD WOMAN
Oh no. I was just a clerk.

DONNA
A clerk! From a television reporter to a bank clerk? It wouldn’t happen.

OLD WOMAN
Life has it’s own legs.

DONNA
How did the bank change your life?

OLD WOMAN
Because of Jonathan.

DONNA
What was so great about him?

OLD WOMAN
We fell in love. It was the greatest thing that ever happened to me.

DONNA
Was he rich?

OLD WOMAN (laughing)
He had less than me.

DONNA
I would never marry him. I would never work in a bank.

OLD WOMAN
It’s not so bad.

DONNA
It sounds like you’ve been brainwashed.

OLD WOMAN
I have lived your life. You cannot understand until you live it for yourself.

DONNA
Don’t you see. Now that I know all this, I will purposely avoid banks, I will most certainly avoid all Jonathan Zingmans, and I’m going to be very careful about the stories I do.

OLD WOMAN
That’s what I said too when I sat in that red chair.

DONNA
This Future View session is internally flawed. You find out some possible future, one that you don’t much care for, and you can avoid it, steer clear of the mistakes. I will not be you.

OLD WOMAN
The computer takes into consideration the knowledge you acquire from me when projecting your future. It knows you will learn about Jonathan Zingman, about the bank.

DONNA
The computer cannot know everything. It certainly doesn’t know me well enough.

OLD WOMAN
Strange how we are reliving these moments. I knew today would come. I was dreading it. But now that it is here, it seems oddly relaxing, almost exhilerating. To be here again on the other side of this table is a totally different thing than sitting in that red chair. I know you are frightened of what’s to come. I know you do not see yourself as becoming what I have become. But life comes and you deal with it, one day at a time.

DONNA
You have dealt with it one way, I will deal with it in another.

OLD WOMAN
When I first met Jonathan Zingman, I was in shock that he really existed. But by then, I had lost my job and started working for a bank, things I never thought would happen. I avoided Jonathan for months. But my obsession with avoiding him turned into an obsession to know him. I was lonely. And since everything else was turning out just like the old woman in the wheelchair had said, I almost fell in love with Jonathan before we ever spoke a word to each other.

Donna stands up.

DONNA
The computer forgot one little thing. What I would learn in this session becomes a self-fulfilling prophesy. But I’m not going to give you an opportunity to tell me anymore, because I’m going to leave. Right now. I don’t want to hear anymore of what you have to say. And that dress you’re wearing…I would never wear such a thing.

Donna turns to walk out.

OLD WOMAN
I have more to tell you.

DONNA
Forget it. I will not be you. I will not hear another thing. You will not come true.

Donna leaves. The stage turns. Donna walks into the reception area. The manager is at the reception console. A young man sits in the chair Donna had been sitting in. Donna walks up to the reception console. The manager looks at his watch.

MANAGER
What happened?

DONNA
I had enough.

The man checks the computer screen.

MANAGER
Oh well. It happens sometimes. We can’t always guarantee a half hour. Our policy is to refund a portion of your money.

DONNA
There is no reason for a refund. I left before it was over.

MANAGER
Oh really. The computer says it had generated only nine minutes.

DONNA
Your computer is wrong. She said she had more to tell me. I just left before she could.

MANAGER
According to the computer, that is the very last thing she was supposed to say. If you had stayed any longer, her image would have disappeared. You are entitled to a refund. I’ll be back in a moment.

The manager leaves. Donna sits on the couch. A moment passes.

YOUNG MAN
Excuse me. Are you Donna Raffle the television reporter?

DONNA
Yes.

YOUNG MAN
Oh wow, I watch you all the time.

Donna smiles.

YOUNG MAN
Are you doing a story about this place?

DONNA
No…yes. Yes I am.

YOUNG MAN
Really.

DONNA
I recommend you get your money back.

YOUNG MAN
I haven’t paid yet.

DONNA
Good.

YOUNG MAN
Why? What’s wrong with this place?

DONNA
It’s a hoax. The whole thing.

YOUNG MAN
Wow. Really. When will this be on the news?

DONNA
I don’t know yet.

YOUNG MAN
Thanks for the tip.

The young man gets up and leaves. Donna remains seated. The lights go down.

THE END.

Waiting to Act

2010-07-01T09:24:00.000-07:00

INT. BACKROOM IN RESTAUARNT

IRIS and MARGARET are wearing waitress uniforms. Margaret
appears to be getting ready to pack up and leave. Iris
drinks a cup of coffee and struggles trying to light a
cigarette, but fails.

MARGARET
I feel like I could vanish and no one
would even notice…not for a few weeks
anyway.

IRIS
You blame people for that, You disappear
and then suddenly show up. Of course
people aren’t going to notice.

MARGARET
I don’t disappear. I do things. I have
things to do.

IRIS
Like come to this job.

MARGARET
This is not a job. This is a shuttle
bus. I shuttle food from the asshole
cooks to the asshole yuppies. A job is
something with fullfilment.

IRIS
We won’t be working here for ever. I’ve
got interviews set up. And you’ve got
that recommendation.

MARGARET
I have bigger plans. I’m a performer.

IRIS
Excuse me?

MARGARET
Drama’s in my blood.

IRIS
Do you mean you’re a drama-queen or an
actress?

MARGARET
Actor. I hate the word “actress”…like
it it means anything to place gender on
the term. Actor.

IRIS
I didn’t know you were an
actress…actor.

MARGARET
Watch this…and tell me how I’m emoting.

Margaret puts on a big smile.

IRIS
What am I supposed to say?

MARGARET
What was that? What state of being was I
in?

IRIS
Goofy.

MARGARET
Happy. I was happy. Now this.

Margaret puts on some kind of “upset” face.”

MARGARET (cont’d)
So?

IRIS
Scared?

MARGARET
Sad. That was sad. Do you need glasses.
Try this.

Margaret is genuinely mad.

IRIS
That was angry.

MARGARET
It’s the training.

IRIS
Training?

Margaret hands Iris her headshot.

MARGARET
Strasberg. Four years.

IRIS
This doesn’t look like you.

MARGARET
Do you like the name?

IRIS
“Camille Cappellini.”

MARGARET
It picks up on my Italian heritage.

IRIS
I think your real name is fine.

MARGARET
Margaret Schwartz? When you say
“Schwartz” it sounds like your sneezing.
Everybody keeps saying guzzuntheit to me.

IRIS
You know my sister is an actress.

MARGARET
Has she been in anything?

IRIS
She takes classes.

MARGARET
Yeah, I’m beyond the class thing. Is she
pretty?

IRIS
Yeah, of course she’s pretty. She’s my
sister. She looks like me.

MARGARET
I had an audition today.

IRIS
How did it go?

MARGARET
I got the part.

IRIS
Really.

MARGARET
A small part. I don’t actually say
anything. I come on stage and some
character shoots me and then I lie on the
stage floor for about ten minutes.

IRIS
You have to lie there dead for ten
minutes?

MARGARET
Yeah. It’s very demanding. I’m doing
research.

IRIS
What? To know what it’s like to be dead?

MARGARET
Acting is a craft, Iris. It’s not like
this bullshit.

IRIS
Where is the play?

MARGARET
It’s off-off Broadway.

IRIS
One of those out of town things?

MARGARET
I didn’t say it was out of town. I said
it was off off Broadway. That’s in
Manhattan. You have to say off off off
off Broadway for it to be in Jersey or
Queens or Pennsylvania.

IRIS
OK. OK. That’s good.

MARGARET
Yeah it’s good. You don’t have to be so
obviously jealous.

IRIS
I’m not jealous, Margaret. I have no
interest in being an actor.

MARGARET
It’s a good thing. You don’t have the
imagination for it.

IRIS
Thanks.

MARGARET
See you tomorrow.

Margaret leaves. Iris stands there alone. The lighter
finally lights, but only after she had tossed her unlit
cigarette ion the floor.

THE END.

The Big After

2010-07-01T09:21:00.000-07:00

INT ABANDONED BUILDING NIGHT

The CAMERA is low. There is garbage, paper, rags, broken bottles, everything covered in dust. A man is on the floor, his back to the wall, his head slumped over. He is wearing an overcoat, and his feet are wrapped in bags and duct tape. Surrounding him are cans of a variety of foods, from vegetables to fruit. Into the FRAME of the CAMERA arrives a pair of work boots. The CAMERA cranes up revealing a gloved hand holding a handgun. The person walks toward the man on the floor, kicking his legs to jostle him. The man, his name TOM, wakes.

TOM: What.

Tom is startled. We now see the person with the gun. It is a woman. Her name is KAYLENE. She is wearing a surgical mask. She partially removes the surgical mask to speak.

KAYLENE: You sick?

TOM: No.

KAYLENE: When was the last time you vomited?

TOM: I haven’t.

KAYLENE: Bullshit.

TOM: No, really.

Kaylene removes the surgical mask from her face completely.

TOM: You going to use that? The gun?

KAYLENE: Food. You seem to have lots of food. Where’d you get it?

TOM: You want some?

KAYLENE: Is this all you have?

TOM: The food?

KAYLENE: The food. The food. You have more cans?

TOM: Yes.

KAYLENE: Where?

TOM: OK, now see, you’re going to use that gun, aren’t you?

Kaylene holds the butt of the handgun up showing Tom an empty magazine slot.

KAYLENE: No ammunition. But it gets people’s attention.

Kaylene places the handgun in her coat pocket.

TOM: You have any alcohol? Beer? Wine? Whiskey?

KAYLENE: Vodka. A truckload.

TOM: A truckload? There’s a truck?

KAYLENE: It’s twisted and burnt and crushed. But the rig in the back survived the blast. And it was filled with vodka.

TOM: Was filled? It’s not there now?

KAYLENE: What do you think?

TOM: Yeah. OK.

KAYLENE: But I have some. About twenty bottles.

TOM: Russian?

KAYLENE: What’s that?

TOM: Russia. The country.

KAYLENE: Are you trying to get smart with me?

TOM: I have books.

KAYLENE: Yeah. So what?

TOM: I’m just saying, I try to read up on stuff. What happened.

KAYLENE: I know what Russia was. A country. Right?

TOM: Yes. And they had the best vodka. The bottles, the glass was clear. The name of it began with an “S.” On the label. A building.

KAYLENE: The bottles have no labels. And the glass is blue. Like the dead.

TOM: You mean green. The dead are green.

KAYLENE: They turn blue first. Then if you they don’t get cooked, they turn green. More difficult to cook.

TOM: Cook?

KAYLENE: The problem is usually starting the fire.

TOM: They cook the bodies? For food?

KAYLENE: How long you’ve been shut in here?

TOM: I try to stay within a few buildings. Near my stuff. Is that the smell? There’s a really bad smell I can’t place. It comes and goes.

KAYLENE: Cooking the greenies smells bad.

TOM: You ever eat…you ever eat that?

KAYLENE: Once. Maybe twice. Sometimes you don’t know. It gets mashed in with other stuff. Can I sit down?

TOM: Yeah.

Kaylene sits next to Tom on the floor, her back to the wall.

KAYLENE: You don’t have an odor.

TOM: Well, gee, thanks.

KAYLENE: There’s a distinct odor to the sick. They try to hide it so they don’t get killed.

TOM: They’re killing the sick? For food?

KAYLENE: No. The sick can’t be eaten. No matter how much you cook them. So they say. Say, how many cans of food do you have?

TOM: You asked that already.

KAYLENE: I am just making small talk.

TOM: There is no small talk. Everyone wants something. That’s why I stay away from people.

KAYLENE: You let me in here pretty easy.

TOM: You had a gun.

KAYLENE: You let me sit down.

TOM: I haven’t seen a woman. Well, I haven’t seen a woman up close in a long time.

KAYLENE: So the cans of food. You got lots of cans?

TOM: Like I said, there ain’t no small talk.

KAYLENE: You want to make love?

TOM: What?

KAYLENE: Everything’s a trade. Sex for a case of food. Deal?

TOM: I don’t know. There’s a catch.

KAYLENE: So you have a case. More than one I bet.

TOM: Was that like a trick? To get me to admit something.

KAYLENE: What’s that bruise on your arm?

TOM: A birthmark.

KAYLENE: Yeah. It looks like you’re sick.

TOM: I’m not sick. I have had that all my life. Were you serious about the sex for food thing?

KAYLENE: Yes.

TOM: How do I know you’re not sick?

KAYLENE: You don’t.

TOM: Well, then, maybe I’ll pass on this trade.

KAYLENE: All you have to do is tell me how much food you have. How many cans of food?

TOM: I tell you how many. Then you’ll want to know where I keep them. Then you won’t need me anymore.

KAYLENE: You have a can opener?

TOM: I wish.

KAYLENE: You have a can opener, don’t you?

TOM: What good is that if you don’t know where the cans are?

KAYLENE: I don’t need your cans.

TOM: It’s every man for himself.

KAYLENE: I’m a girl. And did you forget about my offer of sex?

TOM: If we have sex, and then I do not give you any food, then what?

KAYLENE: Then I kill you. And eat you.

TOM: Right.

Kaylene starts to touch Tom on his belly, removing his jacket and shirt, but it is more of a medical examination than sensual. Tom does not know what to do, but he watches.

KAYLENE: You are quite…quite large.

TOM: Thanks.

Kaylene removes her hand and smells it. She then rises and removes the handgun from her jacket and points it at Tom.

KAYLENE: Sorry. I just had to make certain you weren’t sick. Oh, the gun. No magazine, right. Well, I have a full magazine in my pocket. See.

Kaylene reaches into her pcket but can’t seem to find what she is looking for.

TOM: You looking for this?

Tom holds up a magazine.

TOM: You sat next to me. It was easy. Reached into your jacket pocket and took it out. You think I am stupid?

KAYLENE: I wasn’t going to use the gun, silly.

Tom removes a gun of his own.

TOM: When I noticed you had a semi-automatic, the same kind I have, I figured the magazine would come in handy.

Tom places the magazine into his gun and he points it at Kaylene.

KAYLENE: You got to understand something…

TOM: Let me just say one thing. When an animal gets stressed out, it releases all sorts of hormones into the bloodstream that make the muscle acidic and a bit tougher. So I do not want you to get stressed out.

KAYLENE: I was not kidding about the sex. And I was not going to use the gun. I was playing. I like to play. Rough sex. Do you get it? Do you get it?

TOM: Rough sex? Sex with a gun?

KAYLENE: I like it dangerous. Dangerous. Now put the gun down.

TOM: I thought you like it dangerous?

KAYLENE: If we are playing, yes. Are we playing? Are we playing?

TOM: Calm down. Are you calm?

KAYELNE: Yes. I am calm.

TOM: Good. Relax. Because this is not a revenge thing. It’s just…dinner time.

Tom fires the gun, but it just clicks. He pulls the trigger again, and then again, and then again. Just clicks.

KAYLENE: Empty magazine.

TOM: Shit.

KAYLENE: So you were going to eat me, huh. You’d rather eat me than have sex with me. Love it. Quite frankly, the way you look, I’d say your more in need of sex than food.

TOM: I was just joking. I knew the magazine was empty.

Kaylene then removes a magazine from her other pocket and places it in her gun.

TOM: I had a cold last week. I did. Blowing my nose. Threw up once.

KAYLENE: Yeah. OK. So we’ll saute the sinuses.

TOM: Look, there’s a barn. Not far from here, with a storage facility in the basement with a freezer. There are more than a thousand cans of food. Why me when you can have all those cans of food? Really. I’m serious.

Kaylene fires the gun, the bullet enters Tom’s forehead and Tom falls to the ground, dead. Kaylene puts the gun away. She then goes through Tom’s pockets and pulls out a can opener. She smiles and kisses it, placing it in her pocket along with a can of food or two. She then leaves.

THE END.

Caroline

2010-06-29T00:56:00.000-07:00

INT CONFERENCE ROOM

TETRA GILL sits at a table. Her hair is matted, she is unfocussed, and her nose is running. Tetra is wearing hospital greens, or something similar. We are alone with her briefly. She has white gauze wrapped around each wrist. And her wrists are tied to each other with a plastic tie, the kind that are often used in place of handcuffs. In walks MONICA WICK. Monica sits down opposite Tetra. She has folders and papers. Monica is dressed professionally. Monica settles, taking in Tetra. Tetra seems uninterested in Monica.

MONICA WICK
So now that things are calm, do you want to tell me what happened?

TETRA GILL
Can you take this off?

Tetra refers to the plastic tie around her wrists.

MONICA WICK
I'm sorry. I can't.

TETRA GILL
This is a hospital?

MONICA WICK
Yes.

TETRA GILL
Who are you?

MONICA WICK
I am like a social worker.

TETRA GILL
A social worker? They send a social worker in here. For what? After the cops and the doctors and nurses...now they send a social worker.

MONICA WICK
We are simply trying to communicate with you.

TETRA GILL
And you are good at that? Communicating.

MONICA WICK
I don't know. Maybe.

TETRA GILL
Do you have a tissue?

MONICA WICK
No.

Tetra wipes her nose again, sometimes with her hands, sometimes with the shirt she is wearing. Monica pulls out a photograph of a little girl and places it on the table in front of Tetra.

MONICA WICK
Do you know who that is?

TETRA GILL
That? Is that how you refer to her?

MONICA WICK
Who is she?

TETRA GILL
She is my daughter.

MONICA WICK
When was the last time you saw her?

TETRA GILL
Is that supposed to be a joke?

MONICA WICK
You were shown that photograph by Officer Grayson. At the time, you said you did not know who she was. So you now recognize her?

TETRA GILL
I need a cigarette.

MONICA WICK
So you now recognize her?

TETRA GILL
I need a cigarette. Can you put that away.

MONICA WICK
This photograph of your daughter troubles you?

TETRA GILL
You trouble me. This whole process troubles me. First it's the doctors putting bandages on me, then it's the cops, then a photographer taking pictures of me and Caroline, then some grief counselor, and god knows how many fucking nurses. And now you. Is this some sort of torture?

MONICA WICK
I understand why you might feel like a victim. But as far as we know, you were the only one present when your daughter was...when she was murdered.

TETRA GILL
And so everyone thinks its me, is that it?

MONICA WICK
Look at this photograph. Look at it.

Monica pushes the photograph closer to Tetra. Tetra looks away.

MONICA WICK
Do you see your daughter here. Caroline. Six years old. Long brown hair. A smile. Doesn't she look happy, doesn't she look alive.

TETRA GILL
Stop it.

MONICA WICK
Caroline is alive in this photograph.

Monica pulls another photograph our of her folder and places it on the table.

MONICA WICK
Now take a look at Caroline here. Here she has her throat cut and her eyes gouged out. Here she is disfigured and her body and soul have been desecrated. Look at her. Look at her.

TETRA GILL
My husband did that.

MONICA WICK
You were kneeling over Caroline with a spoon in your right hand. There was blood on the spoon, on your hand and arm. Caroline's eyeballs were on the wood floor. On the wood floor lying next to your knees. I have pictures. You want me to show you more pictures?

TETRA GILL
I told you.

MONICA WICK
You told me what?

TETRA GILL
My husband.

MONICA WICK
Your husband is dead.

TETRA GILL
It's because he did that. He did that to Caroline.

MONICA WICK
And tell me how that is possible. Tell me how that is possible that we found your husband's body in the basement, decomposed. Dead for months...your husband dead for months when your daughter, when Caroline died, was murdered just two days ago. Tell me how that is possible.

There is a long twisted pause.

TETRA GILL
You don't understand. You don't understand how the dead...You know. You know...we were...it was a beach cottage. On the beach. And George...he was...he was drinking. And dancing. He liked to dance, and tell me what to do. He liked to tell me what to do. It wasn't the first time he did this, you know. He drank, and danced, and told me to undress. But when he woke Caroline up and brought her into the room...that was the first time he did that. I didn't mind the stuff, the hitting, he liked to pull my hair, slap me. He yelled. He was always yelling. George liked to hit me. Give me tatoos, he called it. Black and blue tatoos. But making Caroline watch. And she watched. She just watched...in that cottage...with those big eyes, she watched. And she kept watching like she...like she...George and Caroline...

MONICA WICK
I know this is difficult.

TETRA GILL
Excuse me?

MONICA WICK
This must be very difficult to talk about. About what happened to you. About what you did.

TETRA GILL
George raped Caroline. He raped his own daughter. She was only five years old.

MONICA WICK
And so you killed George.

TETRA GILL
It had to be done.

MONICA WICK
And Caroline?

At this point, Tetra reaches across the table and grabs Monica by her collar and yanks her up over the table.

TETRA GILL
You think I murdered my own daughter? You think it was easy? It wasn't easy. It is not an easy thing to do to cut the life out of a little girl. She was an angel. She was an angel.

Tetra pushes Monica back down. Tetra sits back down. She covers her face with her clasped hands.

TETRA GILL
Is there anything else?

MONICA WICK
No.

Monica attempts ot recover. She observes Tetra briefly, then starts to gather the papers and folders on the table.

MONICA WICK
OK. So I am finished. I am finished here.

TETRA GILL
Excuse me?

MONICA WICK
My work is done.

TETRA GILL
Your work?

MONICA WICK
I am a professional. I know when my work is done.

TETRA GILL
Tell me?

MONICA WICK
Tell you what?

TETRA GILL
I need...I need to start over. I am thirsty. Are you thirsty? It is hot in here. It is very hot in here. I am burning up. It must mean something. I am going to start over. Do it all over again. I have a right to do it again. This can't be all there is. Is this all there is?

THE END.

Playback

2010-06-27T18:49:00.001-07:00

            INT. DRESSING ROOM/LOUNGE

            FARRAH, JOSIE and TODD sit and/or stand watching the playback
            of the day's rushes. Todd sees something he doesn't like.
            Josie looks like she's in love. And Farrah is reading a
            book.

                                JOSIE
                      This may be some of my best work.

                                TODD
                      Did you see what I just did? Did you see
                      that?

                                JOSIE
                      I wasn't watching you.

                                TODD
                      I didn't do anything. I'm just like
                      blank. Where's all my training? I had
                      four years of training and I don't see
                      it. I don't see it.

                                FARRAH
                      You don't see it because training isn't
                      necessary for a soap opera.

                                JOSIE
                      I'm not sure I agree with you there,
                      Farrah. Look at me. I have subtext, I'm
                      making transitions, my objectives are
                      clear. I'm telling you, this is some of
                      my best work.

                                FARRAH
                      You're not serious.

                                TODD
                      Oh christ, I did it again.

                                JOSIE
                      What?

                                TODD
                      Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

                                FARRAH
                      I can't believe you two put so much at
                      stake in such a vapid, meaningless
                      endeavor as daytime television.

                                JOSIE
                      It's important to me to do a good job.

                                FARRAH
                      If you're given crap and the process is
                      crap and the directors have no vision
                      because it's always the producers call --
                      you can't possibly do a good job because
                      the result is always overwhelmed by crap.
                      And look at you two...all you see are
                      yourselves.

                                TODD
                      OK. OK. Here's my big moment. This is
                      where I come into the bedroom and see my
                      mother in bed with my girlfriend and I
                      learn for the first time that both my
                      mother and my girlfriend are lesbians.
                      Here it is. Here it is.

            A moment passes. Each of our characters watches the
            television screen.

                                JOSIE
                      That wasn't bad, Todd.

                                TODD
                      Did you see that? Did you see that?

                                FARRAH
                      Yeah, the zoom into your face was real
                      subtle.

                                TODD
                      I like the zoom. The problem is it
                      zoomed into a blank face. A face that
                      says nothing. A face that is empty...a
                      vacuum...a vast well of nothingness. I
                      am nothing. My face is nothing. I'll
                      never make it. It's over. It's all
                      over. My father was right. This is
                      stupid. This is a stupid profession.

                                JOSIE
                      Would you stop it, Todd. Your face is
                      fine. You have a good face.

                                FARRAH
                      Do you see what you two are talking
                      about? Todd's face! As if Todd's face
                      has anything to do with art or craft or
                      training.

                                TODD
                      See, Farrah hates my face too.

                                FARRAH
                      I don't hate your face. It's just that
                      your face is irrelevant.

                                TODD
                      Did you hear what she said? She said my
                      face is irrelevant. Irrelevant. That's
                      worse than blank or empty.

                                FARRAH
                      It's irrelevant to your craft. To art.

                                JOSIE
                      That's a little naive, Farrah. The face
                      is crucial to an audience's experience.
                      Do you see this face? (referring to her
                      own face) I have been studying it and
                      cultivating it all my life in preparation
                      for this profession. And it's clear that
                      all my efforts have paid off.

                                FARRAH
                      You're not serious? You know...you
                      know...I'm embarrassed to be in the same
                      profession as you two...I'm ashamed to
                      include myself in a such a vain and
                      shallow fraternity. That's why I'm
                      becoming a director.

            Farrah rises and is about to leave.

                                TODD
                      OK Farrah...here's your big scene.

            Farrah stops to glance at the television screen.

                                TODD (cont'd) (contíd)
                      Here's where you open the letter and read
                      that your husband is also married to
                      someone else and has two children.

            Our characters all watch the television screen. We HEAR a
            laugh coming from the television set.

                                TODD (cont'd) (contíd)
                      You laughed. You laughed.

                                FARRAH
                      Yes. Of course.

                                TODD
                      That's ridiculous. Why would anybody
                      laugh at such a thing?

                                FARRAH
                      You know nothing of the complexities of
                      character, do you? I laughed because the
                      character's mind can't handle the
                      information, so it goes into overload. A
                      laugh before the tears.

                                JOSIE
                      That's not how it happened. I was there,
                      remember, Farrah. That laugh was not a
                      choice, it was a mistake. You laughed
                      because you thought the whole scene was
                      stupid, and the director cut and you did
                      it again. Your other takes were all big
                      and dramatic weepy things which I thought
                      were rather awful. So the producers kept
                      the laugh...they kept the mistake,
                      Farrah. That's not acting, that's not
                      craft.

                                FARRAH
                      That's my point.

            Farrah walks out.

                                TODD
                      She does have a great face though.