confessions of a futon revolutionist

A Rose for Emily

2009-08-10T23:29:00.003-04:00

For Harry (assuming this finds you first):

Let me begin by saying that yes, I do realize that I'm kind of a prick. The kind of prick that rather enjoys fornicating with ethereal beings, I'm afraid to admit, but a prick such as that is a prick nonetheless. And while I had originally intended to address this at a later point, I feel it is important for me to reiterate these two things. One, it is not necrophelia, if for no other reason than the uninvolvement of a corpse, and two, don't knock it until you try it. Moving on. As I've replayed the events of the past several months over and over again in my head, the actions in which I am about to partake have appeared to me, after careful consideration and several chalices of mead, as the only (vaguely) rational cure for the clusterfuck predicament in which we have found ourselves to be so entangled. Still, I am determined to commit this to paper before I fully execute this Final Solution (catchy name, is it not?), in hopes that perhaps some brilliant new clarity will awaken within me before that threshold crossed and we've forfeit all opportunity to fall back.

That, or the more likely scenario, whereupon I finally realize that I am hardly more than a coward myself, and that to commit this whole grand narrative to paper is really just a sad attempt to put off the inevitable; as I'm sure you've caught on by now, such careful and cautious decision making of which I previously presented myself capable is hardly in character for a impetuous, headstrong (but goddamn handsome) prick such as myself. Rather, procrastination has often presented itself as one of my finer traits; even my destiny seems to carry it in great quantities and along with that digression go all of my noble delusions of do-goodery.

Well, shit. So much for that fantasy.

Speaking of—of, "Well, Shit," that is—I believe that phrase holds a wonderful place of importance in the history of my reign, as well as that of our relationship. So much so that perhaps before I go I shall declare holiday of some sort in its honor. "National 'Well, Shit,' Day.' Has a swell ring to it, does it not? Granted, there's a bit much punctuation when you spell it out like that, and unfortunately, I've always felt that holidays should possess names that are crisp and succinct, and while I suppose I could simply declare it "Shit Day," I fear that it lacks the same punch. And then of course the history books, presupposing they recall anything relating to my brief tenure on the throne, will dub me with some delightfully ridiculous nickname such as, "Lord Aleksander, the Shitheaded."

On second thought, it would perhaps be desirable to go down in history as The Shitheaded rather than The Whiney Ghostfucker.

On third thought, perhaps I win either way. Where were we?

Ah, yes. "Well, Shit." I suppose an epigraph will suffice, emblazoned on the archway in golden majuscules. None of this sans-serif nonsense, only the most majestic and decorative lettering imaginable for to immortalize the very first words I spoke, excepting the standard marching orders given by an invading general mid-invasion, when I first stepped foot in this castle. Can you imagine if it were a marching order? Granted, it would be hilarious for a brief and fleeting moment but if ever there were a way to make a bad day worse, that would be it, and I believe it goes without saying that that day could not have possibly sunk any lower than it already had by the time I arrived. Only, it was then that I arrived, so perhaps I'm wrong on that.

If memory serves—and after the bottle of mead I drank this morning to work of the courage to write this in the first place, it could go other way—it happened in the old King's private court, a room that we've since boarded up. I'd have allocated the funds at some point to preserve it as a memorial to the Old Guard, to honor the dead but, as we've well established, I'm a selfish prick, and therefore such a rational and sympathetic act is well beyond my capabilities. Of course, even if I weren't such a prick as I am (but I am), the cost of repair and restoration would have been astronomical. Keep that in mind in case this gives you an big ideas (and also be sure to credit any big ideas to me. I'll be watching).

When I first stepped foot in that room, I counted no more than six square feet of dry ground left unscathed by the tidal wave of blood that seemed to wash across the floor, seeping into the dirt between the tiles, as if the earth beneath them were a Sham-WOW. God, I had never seen so much blood and death concentrated in such a small space before. Everyone you had everyone known or loved—everyone they had ever known or loved, as far as I could tell—their fresh corpses littered the ground, fresh with the stench of dying. I remember all the shiny wounds, the wide open eyes that oozed blood and brain from the corners like cataracts from Hell. What I later learned was poison left a thin, shimmering layer on every blade, left all who felt its puncture choking in their own vomit and coughing up their withered, decaying organs. I'd dare say that even the deepest stab wounds and severed limbs went unnoticed by the victims as that potion took its toll. I remember a velvet curtain that adorned the King's proscenium. The first thing that sprung to mind when I observed its rich majestic coloring would have been blood red, if I hadn't noticed the rust brown stain of actual blood that dyed its skirt. I remember the cloud of dust that engulfed the room when that curtain finally collapsed from the weight of all the blood it had absorbed, and how it sifted through the air so unsettled.

Now ideally, I'd have waited to speak until something more eloquent, more fitting of a Lord than, "Well, shit," had come to mind, but in the interest of full disclosure, I must concede: I've a terrible dust allergy, you see, and uttered the very first words that entered my head so as to overpower the growing sneeze I felt approaching. Can you imagine?

So you can see why "Well, shit," was my preferred opener. When the left with the choice of coming off as an insensitive fascist bastard or just "kind of a prick," I'm partial towards the latter option (and you would not believe how many times I've been faced with that decision. Trust me —kind of a prick is much the preferred path).

But really, if you look at the whole situation from a detached, objective point of view, it's all rather hilarious. I'm serious. Think about it. Arrogant bastard prince (not literal bastard, mind you) of a neighboring country, one whose Daddy issues even have Daddy issues, shows up to conquer new land in the name of dear old Dad and finally prove himself to be a man and not something Daddy should have left on the toilet seat or Mommy's back, and what happens? The whole damn royal court took care of the hard part and slaughtered each other, only moments before he arrives! Well that was easy then, wasn't it? Especially since, if history is any indicator, my fighting prowess is about the equivalent of a limp dick on steroids— it might feel huge and manly, but at the end of the night, it's still a limp dick. Not my limp dick, of course, but you get the idea.

The Superpower of Myth or, If There Were No Jerry Siegel

2009-02-23T13:22:00.004-05:00

EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT

The parking lot of the bar overlooks a beautiful city skyline, with a billboard near by that could easily double as a bench. CALVIN and JAMES, both in their early to mid 30s, are near the billboard, passing a marijuana pipe. Calvin is a hulking, masculine man, the epitome of alpha male, but still remarkably approachable. He gives off an almost superhumanly enviable aura, and not coincidentally, he is dressed in a full spandex Superman costume. James is bald and wears a long black trench coat. He takes a big puff and holds it in for a moment before he exhales and passes the pipe to Calvin.

JAMES
So yeah, I don’t know. Sometimes I think like, we’re meant for more. You know? Like, we’re all meant to be something greater. Something...something better, something more than. But then we don’t, for whatever reason, and then we’re just like, there. We’re just here, you know, and that’s it.

CALVIN
Why is it that people get all analyl-lit...analytical when they’re smoking weed? It just makes me relaxed, man. I don’t want to think about anything, I just want to sit back. Take it in. No offense, I just hate it when people have these existential crisii* when they’re st--

*Note: Pronounced “crise-eye”

JAMES
Fuck! Fuck man, I hate when people do that!

CALVIN
When they-when they take it in? What are you-

JAMES
Ugh! Look, Calvin, I’m sorry but it just gets me, you know? Every writer’s got his own little writing issues, little grammatical pet peeves. And that, man, that is fucking mine.

CALVIN
Existentialism?

JAMES
No, man! Fucking “crisii” and shit!

CALVIN
So you hate crisiis?

JAMES
See! There it is! I just-I don’t get why people do that. Some asshole on the internet probably started it for whatever reason, and now everybody does it.

CALVIN
Relax, hey. You want, I can pack another...

JAMES
Crises! It’s “crises,” or God forbid, “crisises,” but not fucking “crisii.” Ugh.

CALVIN
Crisises? You sure that’s right?

JAMES
Yes, I’m sure.

CALVIN
What if there are infinite crisises though? Infinite crisii...crises...

JAMES
Crises. It’d be infinite crises. It’s the same with octopus.

CALVIN
That’s octopii.

JAMES
No, it’s octopuses.

CALVIN
Or octopussees. No...octo...poos? pees? Octopees?

JAMES
Okay. Bad example. How about...penis, how about penis. It’s not “penii.” It’s penises. Or, penes.

CALVIN
Penes?

JAMES
Penes, yeah.

CALVIN
Really?

JAMES
Yes!

CALVIN
Huh. Not sure when you’d find occasion to refer to more than one penis anyway.

JAMES
Says the man who wears tights and a cape.

Calvin shrugs and looks out at the view.

JAMES
Where’d you get that thing, anyway?

CALVIN
I can’t even remember. I feel like I’ve always had it, since I was born. Flew out of the womb, just like that.
(pause)
It’s sad, really. A lot of people take these things for granted.

JAMES
Billboards?

CALVIN
No man. Capes. Criminally underrated fashion accessory.

JAMES
Right.

CALVIN
You know, there is nothing like a city skyline to put things into perspective. I travel a lot for my job, right, and let me tell you Jerry, you can go anywhere in the whole wide world--hell, the whole universe--and there’s nothing quite as beautiful as that.

JAMES
I’m James.

CALVIN
Really?

JAMES
Yeah.

CALVIN
Weird.

JAMES
But no, I got you. ‘Cause it’s like everything’s so much smaller there, from here, that it’s like not a big deal. It makes everything seem like your toy or something, like it’s yours and you just, you get it, because you’re just, you’re bigger than that now.

Calvin looks at James; a moment of silence passes, as Calvin actually considers what James has said.

CALVIN
So what you’re saying is, all those people down below, each going about his or her own business, that just because they don’t get to appreciate the same view as we do right now, you’re saying we should look down on them. That they’re somehow smaller, or less than us.

JAMES
Yeah, yeah.

CALVIN
Huh.

JAMES
What?

CALVIN
See, I couldn't disagree with you more.

JAMES
Oh.

CALVIN
Look at those moving lights down there. Imagine that there’s one person in each car, or window, or whatever. How many people is that?
(James starts to count out loud)
A lot, right? And all those people down there are part of a community. The same community, and they don’t even realize it. Even if they’ve never seen each other, they’re a part of something, something greater than the sum of its parts. And we’re up here. Alone. Well, together, but still separate.

JAMES
Huh. I thought you said you hated all this drugged up philosophy crap?

CALVIN
Well I do. It’s ingenuine. Is that the right word?

JAMES
It's ingenuous actually, but yeah.

CALVIN
Ingenuous, right. It’s what people think they’re supposed to be or feel, when they want to blend in. It’s like a pair of glasses you put on that don’t really help you see.

JAMES
It’s ‘Doesn’t.’ You’re referring to a singular pair, not the plural glasses, so you’d use ‘doesn’t,’ not ‘don’t.’

CALVIN
Are you sure that about that one?

JAMES
Absolutely. So how is what you’re saying any different than that?

CALVIN
Because what I’m saying is the truth, not same forced philosophy. For me it’s like I took the glasses off, and now I can see more clearly. Now I can focus. You see that veritable metropolis down below? That is what restores my faith in the world. Every person becomes their own little shining light from up here, and that glow is what makes each person special. Everyone is doing something, or going somewhere or whatever, giving life to this great social organism, an amoeba with moving parts. It’s like an ant farm, but we’re the ants. And there’s no Queen. Or maybe God is the Queen. Do you ever wish you could hear them?

JAMES
Queen? I’ve got the live album.

CALVIN
People.

JAMES
People?

CALVIN
That’s right.

JAMES
All of them?

CALVIN
All of them. Each and every conversation. Every whisper, every breathe. Every laugh...every tear! Everything. You can tune in or tune out when you want but you can still scan their voices. Like radio stations, like XM satellite radio, every time you need to remind yourself that everything’s alive. That every life is unique. Precious, like a, like a song.

JAMES
Wow. That was beautiful, man. You should be a writer or something. Hell, I should have you ghostwrite for me. It’d make my life easier, anyway.

CALVIN
Well what are you working on?

JAMES
I’m doing this screenplay for Warner Brothers. And like, I want to make it good, you know? Really unique and profound. But I know they’re just going doctor it to shit no matter what I write. I mean, what kind of doctor makes things worse?

CALVIN
Dr. Kevorkian, for one.

JAMES
Oh yeah. Who else?

CALVIN
Well there’s a bunch. Hugo Strange. Doctor Sivana. Rotwang. Doctor Jekyll!

JAMES
Lex Luthor.

CALVIN
Luthor, yeah. Definitely. Who else?

Beat. James and Calvin try to think of more bad doctors.

JAMES
That’s all I got.

CALVIN
Yeah, me too. Ah well.

WALTER enters. He is tall and lanky with curly hair and a beard.

WALTER
There you are! Shit, kid, I’ve been looking all over for you. The girls said they were taking off so I thought I’d come find you. Have you just sitting out here the whole time? What gives?

JAMES
We were-I came out here and we started talking and we just, you know.

WALTER
No, kid, I really don’t know, so why don’t you tell me?
(beat)
Are you high right now?

JAMES
Um. Maybe?

CALVIN
This a friend of yours?

WALTER
(to James)
Is that guy wearing a Superman costume?
(to Calvin)
Are you wearing a Superman costume?

CALVIN
Looks like.

JAMES
This is Cal, um, El-

CALVIN
(extending his hand to Walter)
Elder. Calvin Elder.

JAMES
And uh, this is my buddy Walter. He works for the studio I’m writing for.

CALVIN
Nice to meet you, sir.

JAMES
And also, I think it’s technically a uniform. Not a costume.

WALTER
Did I really just shake hands with fucking Superman, stoned off his ass, outside some shitty LA dive bar?

CALVIN
Really? You’d call this place a dive? Sure, it’s not the best looking joint but-

WALTER
Am I high now? See, this is why I hate West Hollywood. Because a moment ago, I was in that bar with four very attractive women, each with cute little accents and I was actually kind of concerned for your well being and now I’m out here and you’re smoking up with a fucking cartoon character-

JAMES
Comic. Superman’s a comic book.

WALTER
...fucking cartoon character and I strongly suggest that you leave this part out of your story treatment or perhaps you’d forgotten that it’s due next week. I mean, shit, kid, do you have any idea how much we make off merchandise? The picture’s nothin’. With a gig like this, it’s all about the brand, and a marijuana Superman would just obliterate the under-12 demographic. And that’s our bread and fucking butter! We’d have to go from lunchboxes to Superman water bongs just to break even. You really think that’s a good idea? I mean, what, is this your idea of some kind of surrealist character research? This is how you get into the character’s head for your “genre-smashing epic” Hey, “Calvin Elder,” is he giving you a cut of this, or what? I hope it was up front cash, man, ‘cause ten percent of zero is zilch. Nada.

CALVIN
Of course not. It was a gift. My treat. I offered it to him, it looked like we could both use some companionship, and really, that’s payment enough.

WALTER
Is this guy just fucked up, or does he really not have a clue?

CALVIN
Jimmy? What’s this fellow on about?

WALTER
Where the fuck did you find this guy? He’s hilarious.

JAMES
Remember that script I mentioned earlier? It’s actually for uh, for a new Superman movie.

CALVIN
Wasn’t there a just new one not too long ago?

JAMES
Yeah, well, we’re trying to kind of reboot the franchise with this one. Kind of like Batman, I guess.

WALTER
Jimmy here’s got it in his head that he’s going to pen this brilliant tragedy, a Modern Myth for the ages, I think he said. Is that what you said? Thinks he’s writing Shakespeare with tights and a cape. He’s still young. Thinks that people actually care about a fucking cartoon. No offense, of course.

CALVIN
None taken.

JAMES
There’s just a lot more to Superman than I think people realize. He’s not just a marketing scheme or a brand, you know? He’s like the perfect archetype for modern man. He’s relevant. The whole story, the whole mythos, it’s like it resonates with our collective cultural subconscious.

CALVIN
Wow. Are you sure you still want me to ghostwrite? Because this sounds like it could be a lot of work and I don’t want to ruin this for you.

WALTER
He’s your ghostwriter now?

CALVIN
Ghost Rider’s Marvel, not DC.

JAMES
Okay. Think of it this way: do you think Superman is a product of desire, or necessity?

WALTER
What the hell does that even mean?

JAMES
The guys who created Superman, did they do so because they were bored or whatever, or do you think they were fulfilling some kind of evolutionary imperative? Does our society, or any society for that matter, by its nature necessitate the creation of this ideal being, this--literally, this super man--in order to function? To survive? This enviable alpha male that we all long to be.

WALTER
That is exactly the kind of dumb fucking question you ask when you’re high. That’s the only time people think of that shit, when they’re having one of those drug induced existential crises.

CALVIN
Or crisises.

WALTER
(to Calvin)
Don’t correct my grammar. You’re wearing fucking tights.
(to James)
Alright, listen kid, I came to tell you I’m heading out. With the girls. And since you’re in whatever state you’re in, I assume that’s alright with you.

JAMES
All of ‘em? There were like four girls back there, Walt.

WALTER
Well. Guess it’s my lucky night then.
(he looks at Calvin)
Who the fuck just walks around in a Superman costume anyway? Fucking Los Angeles, I swear to God.

Walter exits. James and Calvin sit in silence for a moment.

JAMES
Why are you wearing a Superman costume?

CALVIN
Would you rather I was naked?

JAMES
What? No! I-

CALVIN
Hey, it’s cool. I get it. This is one of those West Hollywood things. I always forget that around this part of town. I mean, I’m flattered, really, but I don’t fly that way.

JAMES
You fly?

CALVIN
Ha. Actually, I was on my way to a costume party at my--well, I guess it’s my ex-girlfriend’s place now, and I don’t know. I just got nervous. So I came up here to clear my head a bit. We’re still talking and all, her and I, but we’re not together. ‘Open lines of communication,’ she calls it. It was all her idea.

JAMES
Why?

CALVIN
Well, we work together for one thing, which is already mess. I don’t know. I guess she thinks it’s healthy--emotionally--for us to still keep in contact so-

JAMES
No, I mean. Why is she-what-why’d you break up?

CALVIN
Oh. Well. It’s complicated, you know. The long and short of it is, she doesn’t think I’m not being honest with her. Honest with myself. She thinks I’m always trying to be someone I’m not, and the real me isn’t there when she needs me to be, and that she loves the man that she thinks I am, but she isn’t sure if I’m that person, and...yeah.

JAMES
Wow. That does sound complicated.

CALVIN
Yep.
(beat)
Listen. How are you feeling right now?

JAMES
Well, Walter’s kind of a buzz kill, but...I think I’m doing alright. Why?

Pause. Calvin contemplates.

CALVIN
Walk with me. Come on.

Calvin leaps to his feet, but he is no longer Calvin-he is the genuine Superman, void of all false bravado and pretention. He walks and stands and presents with confidence and comfort, but never with contrived cartoon poses, as he helps James to his feet.

JAMES
Where are we going?

CALVIN
For a walk. I think we could both use a new perspective. Clear our heads a bit. It's one thing to be all the way up here above the city, looking down at the people below, but you're never going to truly understand them, understand this whole little world, unless you walk among them. You need to appreciate it, sure, but you also need to assimilate it.

JAMES
Assimilate what?

CALVIN
Everything, Jimmy. The good and the bad. All their shortcomings. Their pettiness, their jealousy. Hell, even their hope. Especially their hope.

JAMES
Hope is a shortcoming?

CALVIN
Well that's the grand irony of it. A super paradox. But the most beautiful things in life always are. You see, Jimmy, those shortcomings are precisely what makes people so great, makes them all worthwhile, because that's the thing that makes them all so undeniably human. And that's something worth fighting for.

FADE TO BLACK.
END

A Shower Scene

2009-01-18T00:51:00.000-05:00

Hypnotized by the rhythmic pitter-patter of the spitting drops of water as they hit the tiles stained with mildew and God knows what else, Dylan forgot that his body existed. With his petrified hands clamped tightly to his mouth, he stared in silence and absorbed the scene that lay sprawled on the floor of the stall. For three whole minutes of eternity, he was motionless; he could neither breathe nor blink. Even the pounding of his heart had slowed, and the heavy reverb of its kick drum sound drowned out by the screeching shower head above. The steam in the air soaked his skin like a morning dew. He never even noticed the churning in his gut, or the small acidic butterflies that burned inside his throat.
Asphyxiation. His starving lungs gasped desperately for oxygen, letting out the pig squeal of a shallow breathe. When at last he inhaled, he felt the air sift through the cracks between his fingers and softly tickle his skin, just enough to tear him from his daze and alert him to the truth before his eyes.

(To Be Continued)

A Letter to the Boston Police Department

2008-12-18T19:41:00.000-05:00

Dear BPD,

Remember the time that an evil, crooked man attempted--several times, mind you--to kill me today? I called you up on telephone, using that "911" number I received from you at the ball all those weeks ago, and told you all my horrifying experience biking along Massachusetts Avenue when the evil, crooked man in question tried repeatedly to drive his dark green Toyota Camry (Massachusetts license plate #67Z G73) into my bicycle like some kind moving target. We had a lovely conversation--your silky smooth alto was so full of empathy, and really helped to calm me down after this horrifying attempt on my life. Although I was fine, you offered to call an ambulance or other such service for me. I gave you the direction that the driver was heading, as well as a physical description of the man. You even asked me for my phone number, so that someone from the BPD could call me and gather information for an official report.

But alas, more than six hours passed, and I did not receive any such phone call. And what's more, when I called the Police Headquarters and inquired as to the status of the incident report, I was informed that no such report existed! My outgoing call log insists that I made a 3 minute 911 call at 11:43 this morning, there was no proof of this communication. Why, there were no hit-and-runs reported at all today!

Sweet Lady Justice, how would you do this to me? In my most vulnerable moment, where my life flashed before me only seconds earlier, you manipulated me and made me believe that I could trust you. Just like a woman! I should like to see you hanged in the square for such treachery, but I'm told that this is an antiquated practice, apparently much like THE FUCKING BOSTON POLICE DEPARTMENT DOING THEIR GODDAMN JOB FOR ONCE INSTEAD OF FEIGNING INTEREST AND ALLOWING MY WOULD-BE MURDERER TO ESCAPE WITHOUT SO MUCH AS A SLAP ON THE FUCKING WRIST.

I do hope you would show me such kindness the next time that you confront me for being drunk in public

Sincerely, me

A Letter to Tom DeLonge

2008-09-24T21:57:00.004-04:00

Dear Tom DeLonge,

First let me begin by saying that I have always defended you whenever some self-righteous hipster asshole knocks on Blink182; truth be told, if you're between the ages of 18 and 25 and you DON'T own a copy of either "Enema of the State," or "Take Off Your Pants and Jacket," then you probably never, ever had friends growing up. Yes, I realize that now it's uncool, and most self-respecting 18-to-25-year-olds have outgrown it, but still: it was a significant part of most of our adolescent lives.

I had the misfortune of seeing your new band, Angels and Airwaves, this past week and feel like the few happy memories I have of adolescence have been brutally raped and slaughtered. No longer will I be able to look back on those days spent in Andrew's attic bedroom, rocking out to "Dammit" and playing Dreamcast after school. No, Tom DeLonge, your latest attempt at "Blin182-does-'Disintegration'" is an abomination. Did you really need all of the ridiculous strobe lights trained on the audience, flashing wildly to cover up your mistakes? And why the fuck were you prancing around the stage twirling glow sticks during one of the few moments of darkness when my eyes finally had a break? I'm all about performance art when done with a purpose, but extending your arms and hanging them in crucifixion position, or mounting green laser light goggles for 8 bars and looking frantically around the auditorium for the lone sorry sap that actually gives a shit about what you're doing, is hardly art; it's masturbation.

To be honest, I kind of miss the days when you were all about masturbation, and were damn proud of it. Now I suffer from horrible visuals of your beer-bellied, pushing-40, black-nail-painted self running around naked like in the video for "What's My Age Again?" in my head, and every time I think about it I throw up in my mouth. At least you accepted the fact that you can't even play guitar, but to make up for it you spent most of the set frolicking across the stage and posing like that creepy old guy that goes to the same karaoke bar every goddamn week and sings shitty 80s ballads way too over-dramatically, hoping desperately that someone will "discover" him (or like me when I'm singing Meat Loaf...which is intentionally meant to be ironic...really...)

When Blink182 broke up 4 years ago (why do I remember that?), it was as if they had died for the collective sins of everyone who had been a teenager in the early '00s. Do us all a favor and lose the fucking martyr complex; I'd like to salvage at least one happy memory of ignorant, innocent, adolescent bliss.

Sincerely,

"Dude Ranch" was better

PS Robert Smith called. He wants his shtick back.

PPS My pupils still aren't dilating properly and I'm sending you the optometry bill, asshole.

The Sound of Silence

2008-09-22T16:34:00.002-04:00

Carey always had a sharp ear--her mother was an opera singer-turned-voice instructor who raised her girl to always stay in tune with the sounds of places and words and the world around her. As she grew older, she found comfort in the lingering baritone reverb of a man's voice, and the sultry sounds of thoughts sneaking past pursed lips and hanging softly in the air, leaving a trail of audible bread crumbs behind. Even her own mezzo-alto echo could glide with the weight of a hummingbird's song.

It was the complete absence of an echo, however, that made Ben's adverse reaction to her news so shocking. The cavernous boom of his refusal was hardly a tickle in Carey's mind compared to the sight of him catching her words in mid-air and crushing them in his hand, letting the syllables sift lie sand through his clenched fingers. There was nothing more haunting to her than the absence of sound; nothing more isolating than the feeling of still, silent air on her skin. Carey felt asthmatic; without the vibrations of soundwaves and frequencies, the air tasted thin and dead. She looked down and saw every plosive and sibilant shattered like glass fall and sprinkle the ground. That was when she knew that she never taste the resonant tones of Ben's sweet voice again.

Spirit Weak

2008-09-22T16:18:00.002-04:00

Mrs. Bartleby was never one for mystical events, and when rumors spread of the spiritual wildfire that had consumed the other parishes in the region, her skepticism held fast and strong. That's not to say that she never had faith--she had plenty to go around--but she simply found those wild spiritual gifts and fits of holy enlightenment to be somewhat absurd and exaggerated.

Imagine the look of surprise on the parishioners' faces on that Sunday morning when Mrs. Bartleby stood up after writhing like a dying snake on the floor of the pew. She nonchalantly patted off the gathered dust from her best blue dress, trying hard not to acknowledge that mere moments earlier, her heart had become a fault line, casting wild tremors through her body. Mrs. Bartleby simply wiped the spilled silva from her chin, pulled her dress back down, and neatened her hair.

When she finally surveyed the scene, hoping no one noticed her, she was greeted by a sea of wide, frozen, lemur eyes, all aimed unflinchingly towards her. She stammered for a moment before turning back to face the altar and lifting her face up ever so slightly. Sensing the collective eyes still trained her, she waited a moment before announcing, "I had a bad cough this week. That must have been the last of it."

Satisfied with her response, the parishioners looked away, and Father Bailey continued on with the mass as if nothing had happened.

"At this time--especially in such a sensitive and tumultuous climate," he boomed through the house PA, "it is important to ask yourselves: who would Jesus vote for, if he were able? Now, I cannot answer this query for you, but I should not have to remind you all that the Lord is with us everyday, and we need only to open our hearts and listen and we will find the answers and the guidance that we need to make such difficult decisions in even more difficult times..."

When the congregation rose shortly thereafter, Mrs. Bartleby excused herself, hiding in the shuffle, and slipped away to the bathroom to fix her hair.

Here's Your Future

2008-09-17T22:53:00.003-04:00

SETTING:
A dimly-lit public house, where everything is made of whiskey-stained wood. The bar is an island or penninsula, with patrons on at least three sides and racks of upside-down glassware overhead.

PAGE 1

1/1 WIDE-NARRATOR’S POV
The narrator brings a glass of beer down from his mouth towards the bartop; his face is not seen, though his speech indicates that he’s a bit drun. The bartender is cleaning glasses. Seated on a different side of the bar from Cain is ADAM NG, an Asian male, about 26 years old. A Grad student at MIT, Adam is wearing a striped sweater or possibly a polo and looks like he’s been here for a while, drowning himself in a glass. The rest of the bar is populated by regulars/townies and a group of Adam’s peers, all wrapped up in celebration. A “Congratulations” banner hangs across the ceiling over a large booth.

NARRATOR (CAPTION)
So this is then.

NARRATOR (CAPTION) (CONT’D)
Now. Whatever.

NARRATOR (CONT’D)
This is...what’d you call this?

1/2 MEDIUM CLOSE
The bartender looks up at the narrator with a baffled, incredulous expression tinged with a slight hint of annoyance. He is still cleaning glasses.

NARRATOR (CAPTION)
Despite a few changes in its archaic aesthetic, it’s really not much different when I’m from.

BARTENDER
Guinness.

1/3 CLOSE
The Narrator holds the glass up to his eye, observing its deep opaqueness and creamy head. For the most part, the glass obscures his face.

NARRATOR (CAPTION)
People don’t change. Not really, anyway.

BARTENDER
Where’d you say you were from again?

NARRATOR (CAPTION)
There’s a comforting consistency in the way that people interact, no matter when or where you go.

NARRATOR (CONT’D)
Where?

1/4
Close on Adam Ng, moping, completely oblivious that he is the focal point. Cain and the Bartender continue their conversation in the background, unnoticed. The Narrator’s face is still somewhat obscured and/or lacking in detail.

NARRATOR
Around. I guess.

NARRATOR (CONT’D)
Gulp

NARRATOR (CONT’D)
Guinness. Huh. Wish they still made this stuff. Don’t know why they’d ever stop.

NARRATOR (CAPTION) (CONT’D)
Adam Ng might be the smartest guy in his class, though he’s far from the top.

NARRATOR (CAPTION) (CONT’D)
By the fall of his sophomore year, he was the TA for a seminar class in Nonlinear Optics.

NARRATOR (CAPTION) (CONT’D)
Now?

1/5 CLOSE
Adam sits up drowsily and tries to get the bartender’s attention for another drink. JAE, one of Adam’s peers, comes up behind him. Jae is much more hip and fashionable than Adam.

NARRATOR (CAPTION)
Supersymmetry.

JAE
C’mon, man. Hang out with us over here for a while. What, are you gonna spend the whole damn night hunched on a bar stool?

PAGE 2

2/1 MEDIUM WIDE-TWO SHOT
Jae helps Adam off his stool and drags him begrudgingly to join the rest of the group beneath the “Congratulations!” sign.

JAE
Hey--I’ll even buy you a drink. You deserve it, after all. Hey, sound good? Hey! Adam?

NARRATOR (CAPTION)
They’re celebrating the culmination of a directed study project that they’ve been working on for over a year now. Adam actually came up with the idea while he was still an undergrad.

NARRATOR (CAPTION) (CONT’D)
Together, they organized the First Annual Time Traveler’s Convention.

2/2 SAME ANGLE
Jae and Adam look up or squint or shield their eyes as a blinding light from outside bursts through the windows and consumes the inside of the bar.

NARRATOR (CAPTION)
They advertised the event by slipping invitations into time capsules, library books, and anything else they think of, in hopes that they might be found by the technologically savvy denizens of a future time.

2/3 SAME ANGLE
The bright light subsides; Adam and Jae look on as their pupils adjust to the sudden change.

NARRATOR (CAPTION)
Everything went smoothly and according to plan--there were lecturers from across the globe, bikini-clad models wearing fake Vulcan ears, and all the best food that the early aughts could offer--but there was still something missing. There was one minor detail that went overlooked:

2/4
The bottom half of the page reveals a man in futuristic garments entering the bar, with parking lot flood lights spilling in behind him; this is CAIN. His clothes should be fashionable, functional, and realistic as far as futuristic garments are concerned, but they should also be somewhat on-the-nose and stereotypical: an aluminum-looking jumpsuit with racing stripes the side, etc. It should be clear that he is from the future, or at least that he’s supposed to be; if one were to cast doubt on him because of his attire, it would be a valid argument.

NARRATOR (CAPTION)
There were no time travelers.

CAIN
Uh, hey.

CAIN (SMALL) (CONT’D)
Am I late?

CAIN (SMALLER) (CONT’D)
Dammit.

PAGE 3

3/1 CLOSE
The Narrator takes another drink from his glass.

NARRATOR (CAPTION)
Right on time.

3/2 SAME ANGLE
The Narrator wipes his mouth after putting the glass down.

NARRATOR (CAPTION)
Well, relatively speaking.

JAE (O.S.)
Can I help you?

3/3 MEDIUM TWO-SHOT
Jae approaches Cain, offering help; Adam is nearby, disgruntled and clearly not amused by the stunt. Cain wears something on his wrist that is blinking wildly.

CAIN
Yeah. I came for the time travelers’ convention?

CAIN (CONT’D)
(Wow, this is embarrassing)

JAE
Sorry, man. That ended a few hours ago.

3/4 MEDIUM
Cain recoils in frustration and looks to the device on his wrist. Jae is curious and looks on, trying to help, but Adam throws his hands up, completely over the whole thing.

CAIN
Dammit!

JAE
Did you travel far, or...?

CAIN
Yeah. Right.

CAIN (CONT’D)
It’s this stupid thing. Never works how or when I want it to.

ADAM (SMALL)
I can’t believe this.

JAE
What is that thing?

PAGE 4

4/1 CLOSE
The Narrator looks at his own wrist, which sports a device that is remarkably similar to Cain’s. It, too, is blinking and beeping frantically.

CAIN (O.S.)
It’s a Tachyon Compression Gauge

NARRATOR (CAPTION)
You are such an idiot.

CAIN (O.S.)
When it works, at least.

CAIN (O.S.) (CONT’D)
It’s supposed to read and monitor stringent and derivative particles in divergent timelines . Or something like that, I don’t know.

NARRATOR (CAPTION)
Now or then. Doesn’t matter.

4/2 MEDIUM CLOSE
Cain hits the device on his wrist, hoping it will work.

CAIN
Stupid thing...!

CAIN (CONT’D)
Work, dammit!

NARRATOR (CAPTION)
It’s our fault. It’s our fault that it’s flipping out. It’s our fault that it’s out of control.

NARRATOR (CAPTION) (CONT’D)
The NavDeck onboard is picking up my presence in the room and the Aparadox meter is trying to warn you:

4/3 MEDIUM
Cain sits down at the bar, a few seats away from Adam. He is frustrated and disappointed with his failure. Jae follows him in attempt to inquire more, though he remains standing. The Narrator sits across the bar from Cain, and manages to obscure his face once more. The Bartender is also present, making drinks or cleaning glasses, etc.

NARRATOR (CAPTION)
We are dangerously close to a potentially disastrous breach of the space/time continuum.

NARRATOR (CAPTION) (CONT’D)
Don’t you get it? We could end it all, right now, right here!

JAE
So you’re a...time traveler?

ADAM (SMALL)
Oh, give it up.

JAE
But you’re--correct me if I’m wrong--but you’re not on time. Is that what you’re trying to say?

4/4 MEDIUM-BARTENDER’S POV
The Bartender looks away from Cain, rolling his eyes as he continues about his work. Cain, Adam, and Jae are visible in the background, continuing their exchange.

CAIN
...

CAIN (CONT’D)
It’s not an exact science, you know.

CAIN (CONT’D)
In the grander scheme of things--of history--a day is the equivalent of a second in our own lives.

4/5 SAME ANGLE
The Bartender looks at the Narrator is an intensely curious expression; the gears in his mind are clearly hard at work. Meanwhile, in the background, Cain takes notice of Adam Ng.

CAIN
But yeah. My name’s Cain. I’m a time traveler, who apparently can’t get anywhere on time.

CAIN (SMALL) (CONT’D)
Laugh it up.

CAIN (CONT’D)
...

CAIN (CONT’D)
Hey, aren’t you Adam Ng?

NARRATOR (CAPTION)
Oh no. Please don’t.

4/6 SAME
The Bartender quickly turns his head to look at Cain; he’s made the connection between the two of them. Cain, meanwhile, addresses Adam..

ADAM
I’m Adam.

NARRATOR (CAPTION)
Please don’t say anything. Please. The structural integrity of space/time depends on it. Please don’t acknowledge us.

NARRATOR (CAPTION) (CONT’D)
Although...

PAGE 5

5/1 MEDIUM TWO-SHOT
Adam turns around on his bar stool to talk to Cain. In the background, the bartender continues his sequence of curious looks exchanged between Cain and the Narrator. The Narrator raises his glass, asking for another drink, in an attempt to distract him.

CAIN
You’re him? You’re Adam Ng!

ADAM
...

ADAM (CONT’D)
Yeah. Listen. I get what you’re doing. And I appreciate it, guys. Really. But it’s cool, you know?

NARRATOR (CAPTION)
The last time that I lived through this, the bartender must have noticed the exact same thing. And yet, he didn’t do a thing about it.

5/2 MEDIUM CLOSE
Adam sits front and center, making exaggerated and dramatic motions with his hands as he tries to discard the obvious truth of the situation.

ADAM
You hired some guy to show up and pretend he’s from the future, which will, in turn, make me feel better about today’s event.

ADAM (CONT’D)
At least that’s what you’re going for.

ADAM (CONT’D)
And I get it. I do. But it’s totally unnecessary.

NARRATOR (CAPTION)
This whole scene has played out, exactly as it’s going to.

NARRATOR (CAPTION) (CONT’D)
For reality’s sake, I don’t want to change it. And even if I did--would I really have a choice?

5/3 MEDIUM
The Bartender fills up drinks for the gathering of Adam, Jae, and Cain.

NARRATOR (CAPTION)
Could I jump up right now and yell, ‘It’s true! We’re from the future, see?’

ADAM
It’s not the end of the world, Jae. You know, we get credit for the conference, and in the meantime, we keep working on it in the lab.

NARRATOR (CAPTION)
Am I paralyzed by the fear of breaking down existence? Or am I paralyzed by pre-destination, by the fact that this is already written?

ADAM
And someday, somewhere down the line, it’ll go from purely theoretical to actual research, with practical application.

CAIN
No!

5/4 MEDIUM WIDE-NARRATOR’S POV
The Narrator perks up as the scene across the bar gets heated. Cain tries to explain his point, but Jae won’t have it.

JAE
I swear to you, I’ve never seen this guy-

CAIN
Adam. You’re the one. Don’t you get it? Everything I’ve read--everything I’ve learned about time travel, it all starts with you! It all starts with now. With today.

CAIN (CONT’D)
Edison. Franklin. Ng. That’s like, the trinity of science in my time!

NARRATOR (CAPTION)
It’s a strange sensation: you know the endgame, and yet you just can’t help but watch as each move plays itself out, exactly as imagined.

5/5 MEDIUM
Cain gets up from his seat and bar and walks away towards the door, throwing his hand up in disbelief, defeat, and irritation. Adam and Jae look on in shock

CAIN
You know what? Forget it.

CAIN (CONT’D)
I’ll just recalibrate and try again.

NARRATOR (CAPTION)
Wow.

CAIN
And you know what? I don’t even care if it creates another divergent time stream. I really don’t.

NARRATOR (CAPTION)
How come no one told me I was such a prick?

PAGE 6

6/1 SAME ANGLE
Adam and Jae look on as Cain exits the bar; the same blinding light from before consumes the panel.

NARRATOR (CAPTION)
Was a prick?

NARRATOR (CAPTION) (CONT’D)
Ah, who am I kidding.

6/2 SAME ANGLE
Adam and Jae look at each other in disbelief.

NARRATOR (CAPTION)
Not too long ago, that was who I am, and I suppose it still is.

6/3 CLOSE
The Narrator puts his glass down on the bar.

NARRATOR (CAPTION)
Loose time.

6/4 WIDE-OVER-THE-SHOULDER--NARRATOR’S POV
The Narrator rises from the bar stool as he observes Adam and Jae.

NARRATOR (CAPTION)
Things aren’t as specific as they were before. History leaves some wiggle room now.

NARRATOR (CAPTION) (CONT’D)
But only some.

6/5 MEDIUM
The Narrator approaches Adam and Jae with his hand extended for a shake. For the first time, we see his face clearly--it is Cain, with a five o’clock shadow and slightly messier or longer hair, wearing an outfit salvaged together from Goodwill over his jumpsuit.

NARRATOR
Hi, excuse me, um--I don’t mean to eavesdrop, but, well--

NARRATOR (CONT’D)
I’d like to talk to you about time travel.

NARRATOR (CONT’D)
I think we’ve met before, in some form or another. My name is Cain.

NARRATOR (CONT’D)
I was born in 2137, and this is my Tachyon Compression Gauge...

NARRATOR (CAPTION) (CONT’D)
So here’s your future.

The Beginning of the Fall

2008-09-16T16:14:00.000-04:00

Anna brought the telescope down from her eye, observing the tumbling autumn landscape outside through the thin glass veil of bedroom window instead. One hand grasped nervously for the sill at the bottom, while the other reached for the lock above and deliberated; she unlocked the window with her top hand, but couldn’t bring herself to lift it up. Anna recoiled in fear and fell amongst the junkyard of books that filled her bedroom: thesauruses, dictionaries, and collections of all the classics, like Shakespeare, Milton, Marlowe, Hawthorne, Dickens. A pile of pages like feathers, torn from volumes of Dickinson and Plath, cushioned her fall as she grabbed for her telescope and brought again to her eye, spying on the world outside of her room.
Anna hated the fall.
She felt that its name was indicative of its disposition—death, decay, and collapse, the end of the things. As Rome had fallen, so does Mother Nature and the world outside that Anna loves so well. She found comfort in the cyclical quality of life, knowing that, after being covered in a white quilt of serenity for months, the vibrant colors that she loved so much would return to her life, new and fresh and good. She refused to leave her room during these months, for fear that she, too, would wilt and crumble in that chilling autumn breeze that tears each leaf from its stem and sounds it crashing to the hard, cold ground below. Gone was the sensual, seductive show of skin, replaced instead with chapped fingers and lips and necks hidden under scarves. Purples and pinks and blues and greens become shades of grey and all the squirrels and birds run far, far away.
She threw away the telescope once more and bounded for her bed, fumbling to fit her glasses on her nose, as she pulled out her diary and tried to capture all the colorful words that she could before the day was done and the summer gone for good. She knew that she should be outside, enjoying these last hours of summer as they transitioned into fall, but she was afraid of being caught in the change herself, so she opted instead to capture all the thoughts and images she could and horde them in her notebook.
And then the doorbell rang.
Like a squirrel hearing giant footsteps approaching, breaking twigs as they march, Anna perked her head up, extending her neck longer than she thought she could, and looked around. The doorbell sounded again. Cautiously, she put her notebook down and placed her pen in the fold of the spine between the pages and went to the door. She looked first through the small peephole, which reminded her of the telescope from which she watched the world whither, but she saw no one. She turned the deadbolt and opened the door as far as the chain would allow and saw a sliver of a child in a brown dress. But Anna looked beyond this and saw the pigments of fire—oranges, reds, yellows—sprinkled sparsely throughout the sea of green that surrounded her home. For a moment, Anna felt warmed and comforted by this sight, but almost immediately thereafter found herself overcome once again by the fear of that fire spreading, killing each bract and blade and signaling the End.
“Would you like to support Troop 621 and buy some cookies, ma’am?” asked the girl outside, with the sweet, curious naivety that only a child can provide. With a gentle smile of relief, Anna undid the chain lock and welcomed the young girl’s sale as she realized that perhaps the gentle wind that shook her hair would quell the fire, which in turn might give her solace in the coming chill.

Night Rainbows

2008-09-15T14:54:00.001-04:00

When Mother asks him where he’s been, he’ll tell her
he was busy stealing lightning from a lightning bug.

His fingers will fidget, fumbling anxiously, trying
to keep the light from escaping and she will tell him that
it’s not nice to steal. In turn, he will try to retract
his response or explain, while the colors refract
ff his palm and just lay waiting restless under glass,

anticipating the innocent removal of his hand,
the magician's great reveal that allows them to escape (although
no one expects it, colors can be quite clever and conniving, too).

With disappointment, Mom will look at him—no words
are necessary with that glare the way she does it—
and he’ll try and try to verbalize the sheer divine
splendor of the epic arc of pigment, spilling every shade
and every hue of every color ever known, that had sprung
up from the same creek where he had once held court. But
he knows she’ll never listen, so he’ll just let the colors go
before he even gets home and then tell her
he was busy stealing lightning from a lightning bug
and let it go.

The Company Bow

2008-09-12T13:54:00.000-04:00

A sundial, sitting at the edge of a skirt, is feeding
on decay from proscenium walls. The crumble of
its majesty is Grecian in its tragedy, but hardly
as memorable as the long forgotten luster
of the golden laurel leaves that adorn the façade.

The space below is filled with rows
of wine-stained lips, each frozen in
a petrified reach to kiss the sky
and hide its eyes from the dying
desolation that they themselves
once wreaked upon the stage.

If only these mouths were open, they could taste
the stuffy air staled by every clapping palm,
every whistle, every pleading whisper, and every
last recited line whose echoes fill the space—
they are always trying desperately to escape
but only can reverberate off of
floorboards drenched with rain
and tears, cleverly constructed
arches that have failed to do their job,
and of course, the final curtain.

Starboard Port

2008-09-11T23:42:00.005-04:00

EXT. GRASSY FIELD - AFTERNOON
A cool autumn day in an open field, the grass blowing slightly in the wind. The soft babble of a distant creek might be heard. In the middle of the field towards upstage right sits a small Arc, with the loading ramp opened down to the ground. The boat is lavish in its design and decor, but still traditional-almost archaic or biblical-in appearance. Excess wood parts and scraps, along with various tools and a small stool, and strewn about-it is a workshop frozen in the middle of a project.

KATIE and JOSH are both in their mid-20s. Katie’s quirkiness and spunk is immediately apparent in her appearance--somewhat hippy, somewhat hip, somewhat punk, her hair is short, and she wears wild colors and designs and though she is dressed more for spring than the fall, it doesn’t seem to bother her. Josh is much more conservative by comparison--he is attractive, though somewhat generic, and dressed casually, with a hoodie or light jacket.
Katie and Josh enter from the right.

KATIE
(motioning towards the boat)
Well. Here it is. What do you think?

JOSH
It’s very...flamboyant.

Katie gives Josh an incredulous look.

KATIE
...flamboyant?

JOSH
Well, no, I mean, like-

KATIE
What, you think my boat is gay? You think it’s gonna flick its fucking wrist in your direction, what the fuck does that even mean, flamboyant? It’s a fucking boat!
(beat)
God, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t-that was out of line, I’m sorry.

JOSH
No, it’s okay, really-

KATIE
No, I-I really need to work on-that, you know-

JOSH
Seriously, it’s okay. Maybe you’re right, maybe flamboyant’s not the right word. It’s more...I don’t know...eccentric?
(Katie gives him a look again)
Cute?
(Katie continues to stare silently)
Idiosyncratic? Non-sequitur even! It’s just very...you.

KATIE
So you’re saying I look like a fucking boat.
(Josh has no response to this)
I’m kidding. This time. Mostly.

JOSH
Oh...
(beat)
Well, either way, very Noah-an.

KATIE
See, now you’re just making shit up.

JOSH
No! It’s-I guess-Noah-esque would be the appropriate-

KATIE
Josh, just say whatever it is that you’re trying to say.

JOSH
It’s very...Noah, like the arc guy. You know, two-by-two, animals and all that. I don’t know how to quantify the cultural whatever academia crap name of the appropriate art historical period relevance whatever.

KATIE
I think it’s just called “BCE.” Like, “Before Common Era”?

JOSH
Oh. Really?

KATIE
Really.

JOSH
I thought that was “Before Christ”?

KATIE
No. You left out the “E.”

JOSH
Huhn.
(beat)
“Before Christ Everything?” You know, like everything that happened before-

KATIE
Uh-uh.

JOSH
“Before Christ’s Era,” there we go!

KATIE
Nope. Although, “Biblical” would suffice. Are you saying it looks like a zoo?

Katie and Josh both turn to look at the boat in this new light.

JOSH
Yeah.

KATIE
Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re kinda right.
(she sits down on the ramp or the stool, leaving Josh standing alone)
Not really big enough for that many animals though. I could get a puppy though. Ooh, or a snake! Or maybe-

JOSH
A parrot?

KATIE
Yeah, a parrot! That’d be cool. Keep me company. Though I guess that in the end it’s just like talking to yourself.

JOSH
Or you could bring another person along. That’d be nice.

KATIE
Yeah maybe. But what if you get sick of each other? Sure, there’s physically room enough, but once you’re out there on the water, man. You’re stuck with each other for the long haul. Keel haul, man.

JOSH
What does that-?
(Katie shrugs and diverts her attention the boat)
Yeah...
(beat)
Um, Katie? If you don’t mind my asking-what do you plan on doing with this thing, with this arc?

KATIE
What do you mean? I’m gonna ride it. Or drive it. Or whatever verb you do with a boat.

JOSH
Yeah, but...how?

KATIE
How? I don’t know, how do you drive a boat? I’ll be the captain, or the navigator, or...or fucking first mate or whatever.

JOSH
Well normally, I think you’d steer it, or I guess drive, but you can’t-

KATIE
Hey-Chicks can be mates, mate!

JOSH
I’m not saying you can’t be a mate! Let me finish a sentence for once! God! I’m saying...you built a boat in the middle of a field without any way to get it to the water.
(beat)

KATIE
Dude, there’s a creek right over there-

JOSH
But you can’t take a boat this size on a-on a little creek!

KATIE
Okay, so I won’t take it on the creek. I didn’t realize you were so sensitive about water preservation.

JOSH
Katie, listen.
(staccato, punctuated)
You can’t use a boat without water. That’s the whole point of a boat. You do realize this, yes?

KATIE
Man, whatever. I don’t even know why I brought you here in the first place. I’ve spent like six fucking months working on this thing and I thought it’d be cool to share, you know? I thought you’d appreciate it or something. I didn’t think you’d be popping my balloons all over the place.

JOSH
Popping your whatnow?

KATIE
My balloons, you know. Like, little thought balloons, like in cartoons when somebody’s thinking, or daydreaming, they got the detached little dots and they’re all poofy around the edges and then someone else-someone like you-comes along with a little needle a little something and then, bam! Popped. You popped the balloon.

JOSH
I have no idea  what you’re talking about.

Katie turns away angrily. Josh quickly realizes that his response was not the correct one

JOSH
Look, I’m sorry if that’s what it seems like, but that’s not what I’m trying to do. Honest. I just wanted to know how you were going to take the boat out on the water-I don’t care if it’s with a dog or a cat or person or a-or a unicorn-take the boat out on the water and do whatever it is you want to do out there, if you’re currently landlocked without any major body of water for hundreds of miles.
(Katie starts to respond but he cuts her off)
And creeks don’t count.
(She starts again)
And neither do bathtubs. Or kitchen sinks, or any other witty little retort I’m sure that you’ll come up with.

KATIE
There’s water all around us.

JOSH
Forget it!

KATIE
No, think about it. Human beings are made up of like two-thirds water. The Earth is seventy percent water. Or maybe those facts are switched, I don’t know. But either way, that’s a lot of fucking water.

JOSH
So you’re going to ride people, is that what you’re going to do?

KATIE
Man, why do you gotta do that? That’s the kind of attitude that keeps these kind of things from ever being truly fucking realized. Who’s to say that I can’t take this boat through a meadow, or through a pasture, dirt, and find my way to the sea? Huh?

JOSH
Well, physicists, ecologists, rational human-

KATIE
Most of this shit is made up of water. Boats travel in water. Okay, sure, it’ll be a little slow for the first leg of the journey-I get that. Earth’s not as fluid as water. But it’s more than halfway there, don’t you get it?

JOSH
Okay, Katie. Fine. Whatever.

KATIE
Listen, I appreciate the bravado sentiment, but I’m not gonna need someone to save my life this time. It’s totally sweet and all, but man, you gotta get over that.

JOSH
Get over it?

KATIE
It was one fucking time! Obviously, you know, I’m glad you were there to pull me out, but Jesus Christ, that was like three years ago, man. I’m pretty sure I’ve learned how to swim since then

JOSH
Yeah but Katie, I just think-

KATIE
Think what, that I’m a lousy swimmer? Hello! That’s what the boat’s for! Don’t chastise me because I almost drowned in that shit-infested eye-burning chlorinated cess of a pool you call a...pool. It was one time, you know? Whatever. I don’t need you there to-

JOSH
Look, for the last time, I’m sorry I kissed you, alright?
(beat)
There. I said it. Sorry. We’ve been through this already. I probably shouldn’t have done it, you’re right, okay, but at the time it seemed...heroic. Romantic. Chivalrous, I don’t now. But it’s happened. It’s done. Whatever. I thought we’d moved on. This has nothing to do with us or with the flood you’re apparently waiting for.

Silence. Katie refuses to look at him.

JOSH
Or the flood that’s apparently arrived.

He finally tries to leave when:

KATIE
You know, there was a time I thought you’d make a great first mate.
(beat)
Thought you’d look cute with a little bandana tied around your head-goofy cute, you know, like you do-and you’d always be scrambling around to tie some knots or tighten ropes and shout out crazy words like “bow” and “aft,” and maybe-just  maybe-every now and then a little “starboard port.”

JOSH
But then?

KATIE
I don’t know. You went all “Old-Man-And-The-Sea” on me. Jumped ship.

JOSH
I think you’re uh, you’re mixing your metaphors there. Again.

Katie goes back to the boat and touches it, examining her handiwork with nostalgia and morose self-importance. Josh watches her for a moment, but ultimately shakes his head and walks away. Katie does not pay any attention to his departure and continues to check the boat for leaks and holes.

KATIE
She doesn’t look like much. Got a little wear and tear about her. But she’ll fly true. Nothing a little love can’t keep afloat.

Katie walks up the ramp into the boat as the lights fade.

END

Clouds Over Fields Of May (Third Draft)

2008-09-10T21:02:00.002-04:00

Note: The roles of the Priest, Waiter, members of the Clergy, and Bar Mitzvah guests should all be double cast as the director sees fit with Daniel, Sean, Grams, Debbie, and Brian. An additional actor may also be used to fill the roles (especially in terms of aging).

SCENE 1
Scene opens in complete darkness

PRIEST
Receive this burning light, and keep thy Baptism so as to be without blame: keep the commandments of God, that when the Lord shall come to the nuptials, thou mayest meet Him together with all the Saints in the heavenly court, and mayest have eternal life and live for ever and ever.

MAN AND WOMAN
Amen.

ALL
Amen.

Brian and Connor stand as the lights come up. They are in a Church pew, with plenty of people in the rows around them. The Priest stands in the opposite corner of the stage with a Man and a Woman, holding a child wrapped in white linens. There should be an aspersorium on stage, or something to represent one. They prepare for the Catholic ritual of Baptism.

PRIEST
(singing)
Through Him, with Him, in Him. In the unity of the Holy Spirit. All glory and honor is Yours, almighty Father. Forever and ever.

The Congregation kneels in prayer. The Priest continues conducting silently in the background while the following dialogue takes place; at this point in the mass, he should be preparing for Communion. Connor and Brian attempt to keep their voices down so as not to disrupt the Mass.

CONNOR
I really wish they’d let you know ahead of time when they’re going to have a Baptism in the middle of Mass.

BRIAN
While normally I’m compelled to disagree with you by default, they did have nine months prior notice to plan.

CONNOR
And furthermore-who Baptizes on a Saturday? The afternoon Mass is specifically designed for those of us who don’t want to put up with this kind of thing. How often does this even happen?

BRIAN
Can’t be that uncommon. In my church, we call your kind “breeders.” It’s what you do.

CONNOR
Luck of the Irish.

CONGREGATION MEMBER
Shh!

CONNOR
Sorry.

The Congregation rises. Connor and Brian follow automatically.

ALL
Our Father, who art in Heaven, Hallowed be Thy name. Thy Kingdom come; Thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.

PRIEST
Deliver us, Lord, from every evil.

ALL
For the kingdom, the power, and the glory are Yours, now and forever.

PRIEST
The Peace of the Lord be with you always.

ALL
And also with you.

PRIEST
Let us offer each other a sign of peace.

The members of the Congregation all take turns shaking hands.

BRIAN
I thought you liked the little toddlers, Connor. What’s got you so bothered?

CONNOR
I don’t dislike kids, I just like to know when I’m goin’ to Mass that I’ll be there for an hour, tops.

BRIAN
Really, what’s another fifteen minutes gonna do?

CONNOR
Normally, it’s not a big deal, but...I said I’d go to Sarah’s little cousin’s Bar...bar...

BRIAN
You want to skip church to go drinkin’? Spoken like a true Catholic.

CONNOR
Bar Mitzvah.

ALL
Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word and I shall be healed.

The Congregation rises and forms into a line to take Communion. Brian and Connor continue talking in single file line as the approach the Priest.

BRIAN
So you’re skippin’ Church for a Jewish rager?

CONNOR
Free Manishewitz.

BRIAN
Ah. The things we do for love. Why don’t you bring her to Mass with ya then? If they let a homo through the doors without bursting into flames, I’m sure a Jew would okay. Well, actually...

One at a time, Brian and Connor take Communion. They circle around,following the Congregation, and return to the pew to kneel and pray. Once their prayers are complete:

CONNOR
And on that note, I’ve always been wonderin’-how did ya break to Grams ya liked men?

BRIAN
It’s a funny story, really. The old woman was more nervous than I was about it. Ya know what she said?
(in a Brogue)
‘Oh God, I thought you were gonna tell me you were a Protestant.’

The Congregation moves to a sitting position from the kneeling one.

CONNOR
Bull shit.

BRIAN
Swearing in church, that’ll score you some points.

CONNOR
She really reacted like that?

BRIAN
She did. It’s a strange thing about her-she doesn’t care much what you do, as long as you’re a Catholic and you still go to Church.

CONNOR
As long as you’re a Catholic, huh?

BRIAN
Why, what’s on your mind? You thinkin’ about giving the other team a try?

The Congregation rises.

PRIEST
The Lord be with you.

BRIAN
I’m sure Sarah’d love that. ‘Oh, by the way...’

ALL
And also with you.

CONNOR
I think I’m askin’ Sarah to marry me tonight.

PRIEST
May almighty God bless you. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

ALL
Amen.

BRIAN
Amen!

PRIEST
The celebration has ended. Go in peace to love and serve the Lord.

ALL
Thanks be to God.

BRIAN
Guess I’m not the only Black Sheep in house then.

Church concessional hymn begins.

BRIAN
You’ll be fine, kid. Just don’t have too much of that mana-whosit crap before you do it. Grams’ll kill ya if ya turn your back on whiskey for wine.

CONNOR
Thanks. I’m gonna duck out. Avoid the rush in the parking lot.

BRIAN
Hell is fleets of soccer vans.

CONNOR
Yeah. I’ll see ya?

BRIAN
Good luck. Oh, and if you can me that three hundred bucks you owe soon, I’d appreciate it.

CONNOR
Yeah, yeah. You’ll get your cash.

SARAH
Connor? There you are!

Sarah enters as the lights changes, indicating a flashback. Connor sees her, and leaves the pew to join up with her, as the rest of the church service disperses. The Church Concessional hymn reaches a plagal cadence and changes to a minor key (it will eventually become “Hava Nagila” without a break). The church and congregation transform into the setting and guests of a Bar Mitzvah

SARAH
You know, for a second, I thought you stood me up!

CONNOR
Yeah, sorry. I was held up at Mass.

SARAH
Church on a Saturday? You sure you’re not a Jew?
(they kiss)
How are you?

CONNOR
I’m fine. I was just gettin’ nervous. There was a Baptism, it pushed the service back a bit. But I’m here now!

Hand in hand, they move to join the celebration.

SARAH
So you’re saying you’re late because your priest was drowning babies.

CONNOR
It’s not like he dunks the thing and holds it under water! He just blesses ‘em. And if he did let ‘em swim, he’d at least have floaties.

SARAH
(laughing)
I’m sure.

CONNOR
Besides, it’s better’n takin’ a knife to his pecker while the family cheers him on.

SARAH
...’pecker’?

CONNOR
Well, I wouldn’t feel right calling it a ‘dick’ when he’s only two weeks old. That’s just crass.

SARAH
You’re a strange man.

CONNOR
I’ve been told as much.

SARAH
So guess what?

CONNOR
What?

SARAH
Guess...

CONNOR
Okay...haircut?

SARAH
No. Come on, seriously.

CONNOR
No? Um...your Dad finally remember my name?

SARAH
No! You, sir, are looking at the new assistant editor for Night Style magazine.

CONNOR
Oh. Ya got it? Sarah, that’s..that’s great! When did you find out?

SARAH
Yesterday, at the end of the day. It won’t be official until next week, so they haven’t really given me much in terms of my pay and stuff-but still!

Debbie enters.

CONNOR
But still, it’s somethin’, yeah? You’ll be makin’ a hell of a lot more than me now.

SARAH
Don’t knock yourself, Irish. Think of it this way-I can be your sugar mama.

DEBBIE
Connor. Nice of you to join us.

CONNOR
Hello, Mrs. Cantor.

DEBBIE
For the last time, call me Debbie. You know, I noticed that you weren’t at temple this morning for the ceremony-just showing up for the party, I see?

SARAH
Mom, if I recall, you weren’t at temple either. I think you were out shopping?

DEBBIE
I’m just repeating what your father told me.

SARAH
Thanks, mom.

DEBBIE
Speaking of which, have you seen Jacob yet? You know he’s here. He’s over there talking with the DJ right now, but I’m sure he’d be alright with a little interruption.

CONNOR
...Jacob? Who-?

DEBBIE
Sarah’s college sweetheart. Her first love.

SARAH
We dated freshman year. Very, very briefly.

CONNOR
Oh. That guy. What’s he doing here?

DEBBIE
The whole synagogue’s invited. They always are. Besides, Sarah, I think maybe he came to see you. Maybe you two can catch up a bit. Did you hear about his new job? He’s got some big corporate executive suit thing going with Time Warner...accounts manager something or other. It’s really impressive, he must be pulling in at least six digits...

SARAH
I’m sure.

DEBBIE
Well? Are you gonna go talk to him?

SARAH
Maybe later, Mom. Connor and I were talking. I’m trying to entertain my guest and all that.

DEBBIE
Alright, alright. I’ll leave you two alone. Not that you can afford much privacy with all this noise, but still.

SARAH
Thanks,mom.

CONNOR
Bye Mrs. Uh, Debbie.

DEBBIE
Oh, and we’re taking some pictures a little later with the family, so don’t stray too far. I’ll come find you when it’s time.
(beat)
And go talk to Jacob! I’m sure he’d love to see you!

SARAH
Bye, mom.

Debbie leaves to join a ring of people that is forming away from Connor and Sarah; by now, the music should have fully transitioned into “Hava Nagila.”

SARAH
Isn’t she pleasant?

CONNOR
She can be.

SARAH
Care to dance?

CONNOR
I’m not so sure I know how to-

SARAH
Come on, let’s join in.

CONNOR
Normally, I’ve had a bit to drink before I do this.

SARAH
All you have to do is clap, Connor. Besides-

CONNOR
I’m not havin’ your crap wine.

Grams enters as Sarah exits to join in the “Hava Nagila” off stage; Connor follows her but does not exit. Music fades. Lights change drastically to indicate a flashback.

GRAMS
Get back here, boy.

CONNOR
(about 13 years old)
Yes, ma’am?

GRAMS
Connor, I’ve a word with ya.

CONNOR
(swallowing hard)
What is it?

GRAMS
It’s laundry day, you know.

CONNOR
Yes, ma’am.

GRAMS
And I was goin’ through the clothin’ when I found your zip-up here. Care to give it bit of a whiff?
She hands the sweatshirt to him, and he smells it. Without a word, he looks at her, and shrinks; not his body per se, but his essence and posture.

GRAMS
Ya care to tell me why it reaks o’ cigarettes and smoke?
(beat)
Well? Do ya?

CONNOR
No, ma’am.

GRAMS
No? Well I’ll not be havin’ it in my house, ya understand? Those little sticks’ll kill ya, they will. They stink your breathe, and yellow up your skin. Is that what ya want? Hm?

CONNOR
No, ma’am.

Brian enters

BRIAN
(at 16 years old)
What’s all the fuss?

GRAMS
That’s not your business.

BRIAN
(noticing the sweatshirt)
Ah, there it is. Sorry, Connor, I meant to tell ya that I borrowed your hoodie on Friday night.

GRAMS
Oh? Is that so?

Brian and Connor exchange a telling look.

BRIAN
Yeah, I, uh, left mine in my locker on accident. I was gonna wash it for him but I forgot-when you’re in a small club, people smokin’ everywhere, the smell just kinda sticks.

Grams looks back and forth suspiciously between the two.

GRAMS
Alright. Yer off the hook.

Grams smacks Connor on the upper arm and points her finger at him to get his
attention; Connor rubs his arm.

But don’t you forget what I was sayin’ about the cigarettes. If ya even think about tryin’ it, it won’t be tolerated. Remember that.

CONNOR
Yes, ma’am.

GRAMS
(kisses him on the cheek)
Alright then, run off. And don’t get yourself in too much trouble with your friends.

Connor looks at Brian and silently thanks him with his eyes. Brian gives him a walk as Connor walks away, still rubbing his arm. Brian and Grams exit. Lights shift again to indicate the present

CONNOR
Jesus Christ, that’s a heavy woman.

SARAH
That’s my aunt you’re talking about.

CONNOR
Is it now?

SARAH
Just be lucky you caught her after her diet.

CONNOR
I don’t really think I caught her at all. Ah, is this somethin’ you always do?

SARAH
More or less. It’s a celebration.

CONNOR
In my experience, you only lift a chair when you’ve been drinkin’ for a fight.

SARAH
Well apparently we’re prone to much less violence than you.

CONNOR
My shoulder begs to differ.

DEBBIE
(shouting from across stage)
Sarah! Come on! We’re having our pictures taken!

SARAH
(shouting)
Be right there, Mom!
(to Connor)
I’ll be back in a few. Try not to hurt yourself while I’m gone.

CONNOR
It’s a bit too late for that one.

SARAH
Then I guess you’ll have to drink the pain away

Sarah kisses Connor and goes to join her family elsewhere on the stage.

CONNOR
(calling after her)
I’m not drinkin’ your crap wine!

Connor stands alone by the food and drink for a bit, nursing his arm and feeling out of place while the celebration buzzes around him. At one point, he looks to the spread of Manishewitz and decides to try a shot; his opinion doesn’t change. After snacking on a few more finger foods, Daniel joins him.

DANIEL
Glad you could make it, Connor.

CONNOR
(swallowing)
Evenin’, Mr. Cantor.

DANIEL
How’s Tommy doing?

CONNOR
Tommy?

DANIEL
The mayor! How’s the mayor doing? You give him my regards?

CONNOR
I-ah, well, like I told ya, Danny, I don’t really-Yeah. He sends his best.

DANIEL
Good. That’s good.

CONNOR
Yep.
(beat)

DANIEL
How’s that arm doing?

CONNOR
Hurts a bit. I usually try to drink beyond the point of feelin’ before carryin’ chairs around with people in ‘em.

DANIEL
My nephew’s a pretty good sized kid now-a-days.

CONNOR
He’s not the least of it.
(awkward beat)

DANIEL
So how’s work? How’s the mayor?

CONNOR
He’s fine. It’s busy, you know, keepin’ up with all the campaign coverage and, uh-

DANIEL
You tell Tommy I said hi? Did I ask you that already?

CONNOR
You did, sir, and I, uh, I told him. I told you that I told him.

Sarah leaves her family, goes outside to have a cigarette

DANIEL
Right, right. Forgetful sometimes, you know. That’s good though. Real good.
(beat)
Hey, have you met Jacob yet? You two could talk, make some business connections or something. He’s got some friends over at City Hall, too. I bet you’ve got a lot in common. Well, besides my daughter.

CONNOR
No, actually, we, uh, we haven’t met yet, I’ve just been told about him. A lot.
(painfully awkward beat)
Anyways, I’ve gotta go find Sarah now.

DANIEL
Alright. I think she’s back out in the lobby taking photographs. It’s been nice talking with you!

CONNOR
Yeah. I’ll see you around.

Connor leaves to find Sarah, as Daniel tries a few more hors d’ouevres. He finds her having a smoke by herself.

CONNOR
What’s, the family drivin’ ya nuts?

SARAH
You know that old superstition that every time you have your picture taken, it steals a little tiny piece of your soul? I think it’s true. At least it would explain the family gathering.

CONNOR
You say that like it’s some wild ritual-like the mating habits of ostriches-the family gathering.

SARAH
I think that about sums it up.
(She laughs softly and takes a drag)
How about you? Been meeting all the cousins and whatnot?

CONNOR
Ran into your father by the finger foods.

SARAH
Oh? And how was that?

CONNOR
Riveting might be the best way to put it.

Sarah laughs and takes another drag.

CONNOR
Mind if I-have a drag?

SARAH
You sure? It’s a lousy habit.

CONNOR
Yeah, I’m sure.

Connor fumbles with the cigarette in his hand and takes a drag.

CONNOR
I only really smoke when I’m-

SARAH
You seem nervous.

CONNOR
-drunk or nervous.

SARAH
What’s on your mind? I told you not to have too much Kosher wine.

CONNOR
Hah. That’s hardly it.
(beat. Connor takes a drag and coughs)

SARAH
(taking the cigarette back)
Alright, cough it up.

CONNOR
I think I just did.
(beat. Sarah stares at him impatiently)
Alright, alright. I’ve just got somethin’ I wanted to show ya, that’s all.

SARAH
Well?

CONNOR
Hold your horses, woman, Jesus.

Connor rummages through his pocket.

SARAH
Aren’t you not supposed to use the Lord in vain?

CONNOR
Yeah, well, there’s a lot of things we’re not supposed to do.

Connor pulls a Claddagh Ring out.

CONNOR
Here it is.

SARAH
(shocked)
...Connor? Is that-what are you-

CONNOR
It’s a Claddagh Ring, Sarah. Not one of those twenty-five cent ones, either. My Grandfather bought it for my Grams in Galway, ‘fore they crossed over.

SARAH
What are-what are you trying to say?

CONNOR
It depends on how ya wear it. See, on your right hand, it tells if you’re single, or datin’ someone. Depends where the heart points.

SARAH
And on the left?

CONNOR
When the heart’s pointin’ outwards, it...means the person’s engaged.
(beat)
So, uh, yeah. Go ahead. Try it on-if you’d like.

Glowing, smiling, Sarah slips the ring onto our left ring finger, heart pointing out, and raises her hand in front of her to look at it.

CONNOR
Well? What do ya think?

Lights change to indicate the present. Connor exits. Sarah is now at work, playing with an outward pointing Claddagh ring on her right hand. Brian enters; she does not hear him.

BRIAN
I always thought I’d be the first to give that ring away.

Sarah turns around startled; she might be seated in an office chair at her desk, in which case she would spin around to face him.

SARAH
Brian! Hi! Sorry, I didn’t hear you, I was drifting off-

BRIAN
Granted, Grams probably wouldn’t give it to me. Though, we are in Massachusetts, so if the opportunity did arise...

SARAH
Well, looks like you missed your chance.

BRIAN
I gotta say though, I’m surprised he actually went through it. I mean, I’m glad, of course, but I’m impressed. The kid finally grew some balls.

Sarah rolls her eyes and turns away from him for a moment.

SARAH
Anyway, what have you got for me?

BRIAN
Remember that place over on Columbus we were looking to write about? Head cook called back, wants to set up a time for someone to come in and try everything out.

SARAH
Finally. Yeah, um, can you send me an e-mail reminding me?

BRIAN
Yeah, sure, that’s fine.

SARAH
Awesome, thanks.

BRIAN
Ya know--I think I’ve got to take a little credit for it. I mean, I did set you two up in the first place.

SARAH
(laughs)
Yeah. Who’d have thought it would come to this?

BRIAN
Not me, anyway. It all started as a last-ditch attempt to get the poor kid laid.

Sarah knows Brian’s joking, as she plays along, feigning anger.

SARAH
Thanks, you big jerk.

BRIAN
No problem. I’m gonna head back over to my cute little cubicle. Not all of us get the kind of small shared office amenities that you do.

SARAH
Bye, Brian.

Brian exits as Sarah turns back to her desk. The telephone rings, and she picks it up.

SARAH
Hello?

Lights shift to indicate a flashback

DEBBIE
(offstage)
Sarah! Sarah...

SARAH
(about age 16)
Ugh, I gotta go. I’ll call you when I get home. Bye.
(Sarah hangs the phone up)
(yelling, to Debbie)
What, mom?

Debbie enters.

DEBBIE
Sarah, honey, what are you doing?

SARAH
I’m getting ready, what does it look like?

DEBBIE
Getting ready? Getting ready for what, dear, where are you going?

SARAH
Out. I’m going out, it’s Friday, mom. That’s what you do on a Friday.

DEBBIE
Well who are you going out with?

SARAH
Mom...

DEBBIE
I’m just asking! I’m a concerned mother, you just got your license, I want to make sure you’re safe. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.

SARAH
(reluctantly)
I’m just...going out to see a movie, with this guy from one of my classes.

DEBBIE
A boy?

SARAH
Yes, mother.

DEBBIE
Tell me about him.

SARAH
I’m trying to get ready, mom.

DEBBIE
How old Is he? Is he older? Is he a senior? Tell me about him.

SARAH
Goodbye, mom.

DEBBIE
Is he Jewish?

BLACK OUT.
Connor begins playing “On Raglan Road” on guitar.

LIGHTS FADE IN

SCENE 2
Lights up as Connor begins to sing while still playing. He sits on a chair in the kitchen of his dad’s house.

CONNOR
(singing)
On Raglan Road of an autumn day
I saw her first and knew
That her dark hair would weave a snare
That I might one day rue
I saw the danger and I passed
Along the enchanted way
And said let grief be a fallen leaf
At the dawning of the day

On Grafton Street in November
We tripped lightly along the ledge
Of a deep ravine where can be seen
The worth of passion's pledge
The Queen of Hearts still making tarts
And I not making hay
Oh I loved too much and by such by such
Is happiness thrown away

I gave her gifts of the mind
I gave her the secret signs
Known to the artists who have known
The true gods of sound and stone
And word and tint I did not stint
I gave her poems to say
With her own name there
And her own dark hair
Like clouds over fields of May

Sean, Connor’s father, enters.

SEAN
(also singing)
On a quiet street where old ghosts meet
I see her walking now
Away from me so hurriedly my reason must allow
That I had loved not as I should
A creature made of clay
When the angel woos the clay
He'll lose his wings at the dawn of day
(speaking)
Should’ve stuck widh it. You’ve a great voice, I always said it.

Connor puts the guitar down.

CONNOR
Never had the patience.

SEAN
Never had the discipline.

CONNOR
Are ya still goin’ to the craic?

SEAN
When I’ve the time.

CONNOR
Where ya been, Dad? I came over last night for dinner like always, and nobody’s home. I waited around a while before I went home, and I been callin’ all night and day. Neither you nor Grams is pickin’ up the phone, and when I show up with a key the place is empty and-

SEAN
When was the last time ya put in such an effort to see your old man, huh?

CONNOR
Well, this is important.

SEAN
I’m sure it is. Come on, let’s hear what you’ve got.

CONNOR
Da, where’s Grams? I know ya never let her leave the house alone, and she’s been gone at least as long as I’ve been here.

Slowly, Sean takes a seat beside Connor.

SEAN
I just came back from the hospital, lad.
(beat. Connor stares, silent)
Yer grandmother had a heart attack yesterday.

CONNOR
What?

SEAN
She’s stabilized; they’ve got her on machines and all, but-

CONNOR
Why didn’t you call me?

SEAN
Because I was trying to tend to the woman, Connor. I was trying to make sure everyt’in’ was alright wit’ ‘er.

CONNOR
But it is.

SEAN
Aye. For now.

CONNOR
You could have called me earlier.

SEAN
Well I’m tellin’ ya now. I didn’t want to worry ya.

CONNOR
Does Brian know?

SEAN
No, Brian doesn’t know. Not yet, anyway.
(Silence; Connor takes it in.)
So what’d ya want to tell me? Better not be any bad news in it.

CONNOR
Well, I can’t tell ya now. It just sounds selfish.

SEAN
Connor, ya ought ta tell me what ya need. I’m not in a mood for screwin’ around.

CONNOR
(reluctantly)
I was gonna see if I could borrow some money. Bills are pilin’ up and all. But it seems we got more pressin’ issues now.

SEAN
Borrowin’ money? That’s all you’re worryin’ about?

CONNOR
Well, I-

SEAN
It’s not a problem, Connor. Honest.

CONNOR
Thanks, Da.
(beat)
There is one more thing I gotta tell ya.

SEAN
Oh? What’s that?

CONNOR
(Nervous, fidgeting. He lets out a heavy sigh before he says:)
We called the engagement off. Sarah and I. It started comin’ to a head a few weeks back. We’d been tryin’ to figure it all out, but...yeah.
(beat)
Looks like we’re not gettin’ married, Da. Not anymore.

Lights dim on Connor and Sean and come up on Sarah, Debbie and Daniel, elsewhere on the stage. Lights should indicate a flashback

DANIEL
Have you talked to him about it yet?

DEBBIE
Did you think it out a little bit?

SARAH
Sorry if I thought you’d be excited for me.

DANIEL
Darling, we are-

DEBBIE
We are?

DANIEL
I’m excited for you.

DEBBIE
Daniel, that’s enough. So you haven’t had a talk with him at all about converting? Jacob wouldn’t have to convert...

SARAH
No, Mom, I haven’t. I’m not marrying Jacob, and I’m sorry, but that conversation was not my top priority at the time.

DEBBIE
What was your priority then?

DANIEL
Debbie, please...

SARAH
Why’s this so important to you? You never go to temple, Mom. You don’t recall a word of Hebrew-

DEBBIE
He’s a goyem.

SARAH
That’s Yiddish.

DEBBIE
Shagitz.
(Sarah glares at Debbie)
Whatever.

SARAH
You don’t even keep Kosher.

DEBBIE
Neither do you!

SARAH
That’s my point! What difference does it make if he’s Jewish or not?

Lights come up on a different part of the stage, where Connor stands in a hospital room in the present; Grams lays resting in a hospital bed. Sean stands nearby.

DANIEL
It’s...cultural, sweetheart-

CONNOR
How are ya, Grams?

DEBBIE
It’s insulting.

GRAMS
(difficulty speaking)
Connor? Go mbeannaí Dia is Muire duit.

DEBBIE
Other people don’t understand us, darling.

CONNOR
Grams, ya know I don’t speak-

SARAH
Why? What makes us any different?

SEAN
It’s Connor, ma. It’s your grandson.

GRAMS
Connor, my boy, I’m so glad ya came.

DANIEL
There’s history, Sarah. Oppression, people know about, but-

SEAN
She’s not been so responsive.

DANIEL
-Perseverance is something not everyone understands.

GRAMS
Come closer, let me see ya, with those smilin’ Irish eyes o’ yer grandfat’er.

CONNOR
Missed you at dinner last night, Grams.

DEBBIE
Family is family, sweetie. We’re not saying you can never...

GRAMS
Ay, if only they’d let me cook for meself. The food here’ll kill me if me heart don’t get it first.

DEBBIE
We just...would rather that you marry a Jew.

GRAMS
A lonely heart can kill ya, Connor. I’m just lucky that mine took a while for it. D’ya understan’ what I’m sayin’?

DANIEL
Or that he...become a Jew.

CONNOR
I think so.

GRAMS
I just want to make sure that you’re happy, boy.

SARAH
I can never make you happy, can I?

Sarah exits; lights fade out on Debbie and Daniel.

GRAMS
So ya better hurry up widh it, ‘cause I’ll be wantin’ to see me great-grandkids ‘fore I die.
(she shows signs of struggling)
From the looks of it, that somethin’s comin’ sooner ‘en later.

CONNOR
Don’t say that, Grams.

GRAMS
Ah, sometimes ya got to face the truth of it.

CONNOR
The doctors said you’re stabilized...

GRAMS
Aye, but somethin’ else’ll come, I’m sure of it. I just want to know I got a legacy a’ somethin’, ‘sall. Thar’s a tradition in the family thats ya gotta keep alive. Yer brother sure as hell ain’t keepin’ the family on ‘imself.

CONNOR
At least he tries.

GRAMS
I bet he does. And I’m sure th’Lord knows it, but sometimes it ain’t enough. How’s your girl, eh? The pretty Jewish widh the dark hair. Ya treat’in’ ‘er well, I hope? ‘N she’s doin’ the same fer you?

CONNOR
Actually, uh...

(Sean places his hand on Connor’s shoulder and looks at him intently)

CONNOR
Yeah. She’s fine. Everything’s great.

GRAMS
Ah. Good to hear it. T’ese old ears could use a little somet’in’ upbeat. And how’s the job? What good ya gonna be to a to a girl widh nothin’ ta offer ‘er?

CONNOR
It’s goin’. I’ve been savin’ money. Or tryin’ to, anyway. It’s hard work, ya now? But I’m in line for a promotion, I think. Well, eventually, and...

SEAN
Connor’s doin’ alright fer ‘imself, ma. Don’t ya worry ‘bout ‘im. He’ll find a girl. He’ll do ya right.

GRAMS
That’s a boy. Always knowin’ how to make an old woman proud.

CONNOR
I love you, grandma.

GRAMS
I love you, too, boy. Now let yer Grams get her rest, aye? ‘Tis been a long, long day, it has.

CONNOR
Sure.

Connor kisses her on the forehead. Lights shift to indicate a flashback

BRIAN
Connor, quit dickin’ around, or you’re gonna be late!

CONNOR
Hold yer horses!
(to Grams)
Wish me luck.

GRAMS
Just don’t be thinkin’ too much about it. You’ll be fine. And don’t get too carried away, if ya get the meanin’. Now have a good night.
(yelling, to Brian)
And Brian? Watch yer blasted tongue! I don’t want to hear no words like that from you again.

BRIAN
Grams, I’m twenty-

GRAMS
Brian.

CONNOR
G’night, Grams.

GRAMS
Good night, boy.

BRIAN
Ya need a ride?

CONNOR
I can drive myself, thanks.

BRIAN
Hey, big brother’s just lookin’ out for ya.

CONNOR
I think you’ve done enough.

Connor walks downstage and encounters Sarah, sitting at a table. He takes a seat in the empty chair across from her.

SARAH
Late for the first date. Brian didn’t warn you about my wrath for the tardy?

CONNOR
Actually, that’s just why I’m late. He wouldn’t shut up about it. You’d think he’s sabotagin’ me.

SARAH
What! He hasn’t got a bad thought in his body!

CONNOR
You’re not his baby brother.

SARAH
That’s true. I’m pretty sure I’m not equipped to be anybody’s brother.

CONNOR
Ha. What about you? Have ya any brothers or sisters for yourself?

SARAH
Me? No way. I’m too much of a Daddy’s girl to possibly have a sibling.

CONNOR
Thanks for the warning.

SARAH
Hey, at least I’m being honest. It’s only fair, I mean, I figured Brian never told you what he really got you into it.

Waiter comes by and fills their glasses with water.

CONNOR
He’s got a tendency to skip the details like that.

SARAH
So your brother tells me that you work for the mayor.

CONNOR
Eh, not directly. I work in the press office, so I guess I just write about him, more than anything else.

SARAH
You’re a writer?

CONNOR
Journalist, yeah.

SARAH
Me too.

CONNOR
A journalist?

SARAH
A writer. Well, kind of a journalist I guess.

CONNOR
Make up your mind, darlin’. You can’t be both. Got to be one, or th’ other.

SARAH
(laughing)
Why can’t you be both?

CONNOR
A writer is a charmin’ alcoholic. A journalist is just a nosey asshole.
(beat)
Suppose I shoulda been a writer...

The Waiter comes by again.

WAITER
Have you decided what you’d like?

SARAH
Yeah, umm...I’ll have the-lobster ravioli?

WAITER
Okay, and yourself, sir?

CONNOR
Ah...haven’t really looked...hold on...umm...guess I’ll take...can I just get a burger?
(beat. Blank stare from the waiter)
I’ll have the steak.

WAITER
How would you like it?

CONNOR
Bloody as ya got it?

WAITER
Medium, alright.

CONNOR
Oh, and a-bottle of cabarnet?
WAITER

Sure. I’ll be right back with it.

He exits.

SARAH
Liquor me up on the first date, huh?

CONNOR
I think I’m doin’ you the favor, really.

SARAH
Oh? And how’s that?

CONNOR
I really don’t know, I just thought it’d be a good response.

SARAH
Look at you with the jokes.

CONNOR
I try. Every now and then, I succeed, too.
SARAH
Well, so far you’re doing alright.
(beat as they share a moment)
Will you excuse me? I’m just going to hit the ladies room for a moment.

CONNOR
I thought you traveled in packs for that?

SARAH
No, this time I actually have to pee.

CONNOR
Oh. Well, don’t let me keep ya then.

SARAH
I won’t.

Sarah smiles flirtatiously and exits to the bathroom. Connor is left alone for a moment, clearly giddy. Lights change to signal the end of flashback.
Connor sits at a table in the hospital food court, thinking about Grams’s condition, when he sees Sarah enter.

CONNOR
Sarah? Sarah! Hey! Sarah!

SARAH
...Connor? Hi.

CONNOR
It’s, uh...how are you? I haven’t spoken to you in a bit.

SARAH
Yeah.

CONNOR
So uh, what’s up? What’s new? Anything, ya know, exciting going on with ya, or...

SARAH
I’m in a hospital food court on a high holy day, so I can’t eat anything, and, well, I’m in a hospital which usually that indicates that something’s wrong with someone

CONNOR
Did you want anything to eat?

SARAH
I’m fasting.

CONNOR
Right. Forty days and all that.

SARAH
No. Just one.

Connor and Sarah both start speaking at the same time. They stop themselves, look at each other, and laugh.

CONNOR
Go ahead.

SARAH
Thanks. Uh, what are you doing here?

CONNOR
Here? Well, Au Bon Pain has some really good bagels...

SARAH
I mean at the hospital. It’s always the jokes with you.

CONNOR
Not always. Usually they’re just nervous quips.
(he swallows. Beat.)
But um, yeah. My Grams is here.

SARAH
Grams? Is she alright?

CONNOR
Well, like ya said, it’s a hospital, so...no, I guess she’s not. I mean, she might be eventually, but...

SARAH
What happened?

CONNOR
She-she had a heart attack yesterday.

SARAH
The poor woman, how is she?

CONNOR
She’s stabilized for now. She’s stubborn, ya know. She won’t let God take her if she doesn’t want to go.

SARAH
I’m so sorry to hear that. I know how important she is to all you guys. But she’s a survivor. She spent how many years in a house full of males from the Kierney clan?

CONNOR
(smiling at her)
Yeah.
(beat)

SARAH
I should-

CONNOR
What brings you to these chipper grounds?

SARAH
My cousin-you remember Jacob, right?

CONNOR
The rich guy that ya dated back in college?

SARAH
No, my cousin.

CONNOR
Cousin. Right. You guys were cousins?

SARAH
Remember? You came with me to...to his bar mitzvah...

CONNOR
Oh. Right.

SARAH
Yeah. He, uh, he got hit by a car while he was riding his bike and it broke his leg.

CONNOR
Is he alright?

SARAH
Well again, it’s a hospital, and his leg’s broken, but all things considered, I think he’ll be fine.

CONNOR
That’s good.
(beat)
Did you want a bagel, or a coffee or somethin’...

SARAH
More than you can imagine. But like I said, I have to fast today.

CONNOR
Right, right. Sorry. I was just thinkin’ maybe you’d want to sit and, I don’t know, talk or whatever. Just for a little bit.

SARAH
I’d love to, Connor, but Jacob’s going to be here any minute now to pick me up, so I should probably go meet him out front.

CONNOR
Jacob your cousin? With the broken leg?

SARAH
No, the other one. You remember Jacob, right?

CONNOR
Oh. Right. That guy.

SARAH
Yeah. He’s, um, he’s taking me with him to some company party or whatever tonight. Open bar and fancy dress, I don’t even know. I might just use the evening as a writing opportunity. Maybe I can get a good article out of it.

CONNOR
Are you guys datin’ now or somethin’?

SARAH
Us? No. No, we’re not, though my mother would love it if we were. Sometimes I think she wants to marry him.

CONNOR
So you’re not? With him, that is.

SARAH
Sure, he’s handsome...rich...successful...and entirely not my type, as we learned all those years ago. Not to say that I don’t like handsome guys, or successful-

CONNOR
It’s alright. How’s that new job goin’, anyway? I realize it’s not that new anymore, but still.

SARAH
It’s great, but like I said, I’ve really got to go. Maybe-maybe we talk soon? Or get a drink or whatever.

CONNOR
Yeah. Absolutely. I’d like that.

SARAH
Me too. Bye Connor.

CONNOR
Have fun tonight.

SARAH
Thanks.
(beat)

Lights dim; Connor exits. Sarah is now outside of Grams’s hospital room. Sean is beside an unconscious Grams, holding her hand. Sarah peers in. There is a slow, steady pulse sounding quietly in the background from a heart monitor. The pulse continues to slow down as the scene goes on, but in small increments it is hardly noticed.

SARAH
Hello?

SEAN
Sarah, hi!
(he rises to greet her)
How are ya, darlin’?

SARAH
I’m fine, Mr. Kierney. How-how are you doing?

SEAN
For you, darlin’, it’s just Sean. You were close to enough to family ta me fer it to count. Right now I’m just spendin’ some time with me muther. Hate to say, but she’s kinda better company like this. It’s not often that ya find the old woman keepin’ quiet so long.
(Sean gets visibly choked up)
Sorry. I don’t often lose it like this. She’d never have it, anyway. She can’t likely hear it, but, if she does wake up, she’ll give me hell.

SARAH
I’m...I’m sorry. I saw Connor downstairs and he just told me-

SEAN
Nothin’ to be sorry for. She’s damn ancient anyway. Not that it makes it good or nothin’, but...you know. It happens, I guess.
(beat; Sean looks down at his mother)
Thanks for swingin’ by. Means a lot.

SARAH
Really, it’s nothing. It’s the least I can do. Even though I guess we’re not...family or whatever, but I still, I--

SEAN
Darlin’, you don’t have to be family to have a heart. And I s’pose it works the other way, too.
(A shy smile slips across Sarah’s face)
Ya know she always liked ya. Always askin’ for ya, askin’ Connor how his pretty little Jew girl’s doin’.

SARAH
Did she-did she always say that? Jew girl?

SEAN
Well her memory wasn’t-isn’t-always on point. Little forgetful on the names front.

SARAH
I see.

SEAN
Somethin’ troublin’ ya?

SARAH
No, no. Nothing. Just...touched, that’s all.

Brian enters with a wrapped sandwich.

BRIAN
Brought your lunch, da. They were all out of Swiss, so I said to use American, if it’s all the same to you.
(notices Sarah)
Hey. Sarah. Didn’t realize you were out of the office today, too. Helluva place for a lunch break, huh? You should really try the apple sauce. Ooh, or the rubberized chicken. I hear it’s to, uh...yeah.

SEAN
Thanks, Brian. American’s fine.

BRIAN
Anything new?

SEAN
Nah. She’s still sleepin’. Hardly made a sound all day.

BRIAN
Doctors say anything?

SEAN
Nothin’. She’s...they got nothin’.

BRIAN
You get that manuscript this morning?

SARAH
Manuscript?

BRIAN
Yeah, the review for that new winery over on Perkins Street.

SARAH
Oh. No, I haven’t been in at all today.

BRIAN
What, now that you’ve got a fancy new office, you don’t have to show up for work anymore?

SARAH
It’s a holiday.

BRIAN
I know. I was kidding.

SARAH
Right. Sorry, I’m kind of out of it. I haven’t eaten much today, and just-sorry.

SEAN
(motioning with his sandwich)
You want a bite? It’s got American instead o’ Swiss but, it’s better’n nothin’.

SARAH
No, it’s fine. I’m actually supposed to fast for the day. Or at least until sundown.

SEAN
Right. Starvin’ and wanderin’ and all that crap. But know that when a flower’s catchin’ fire and havin’ conversation, it might be time to have a bite.

SARAH
As far as I’m aware, you guys believe that still yourself.

SEAN
I don’t know what to believe anymore.
(pause)

BRIAN
I should get back to work before my lunch break is up. I’ll see tomorrow, Sarah?

SARAH
Yeah. See you tomorrow.

BRIAN
Bye, da. Grams.

SEAN
Bye son.

Brian exits. Sean turns to tend to his mother, while Sarah stands waiting in the doorway, uncomfortable. Silence. Then:

SARAH
I, um, I have a-
SEAN
Don’t be feelin' like ya have to fill the silence. Your presence is sayin’ enough.
(beat)
Look, I don’t know much o’ the details that went down between ya, I’ve got at least an inkling of it.

SARAH
You do?

SEAN
Like I said, it’s just an inkling. The rest of it’s a man’s intuition. After fifty years, ya start to catch on. Ya start to understan’. ‘Specially livin’ wit’ a woman like this for most o’ that time. She drills it right in so ya won’t forget it.

SARAH
I’m not sure I understand.

SEAN
My fat’er spent his life hatin’ everyone who called ‘imself a Protestant, for no udder reason than he t’ought he was supposed ta. He never let it go. He had this sayin’ though, old Irish sayin’. ‘Death is facin’ the old, and behind the young.’ I used ta t’ink it meant that old folks knew when they were dyin’, they expected it, but it sneaks up and surprises the youth.

SARAH
But now?

SEAN
Now I t’ink it means to say the youth can put the past behind ‘em. The older generations are all tied to history, to t’ings past, to all the death before ‘em. But you kids got an option not to tie yerselves down to that. Not to let the past tell ya where yer goin’. Death’s behind ya, ‘cause ya get to look forwards, in ways that we can’t.

Silence.

SARAH
That sounds great. But I’m not sure it works that well in practice. We get raised to look ahead, and we do, but something’s always looking over our shoulders. And we look back.

Silence.

Thank you, Sean. Da.

SEAN
Eh, it’s nothin’. Or it’s too little, too late anywhow. I’m glad ya came by. If she’s awake at all, I’m sure she’d say the same.

Sarah and Sean embrace, and Sarah leaves the room. Sean turns back to tend to his mother. He kneels beside her bed and holds her hand. After a moment, the pulse of the heart monitor flatlines, and suddenly grows in volume. Lights fade to black.

SCENE 3
Lights change to indicate a flashback, as the flatline buzz formerly of Grams’s heart monitor continues ringing, and the sound becomes that of the oven buzzer.
Connor, Brian, Sarah, Daniel, and Debbie enter, taking seats around a table together. Grams gets up and says:

GRAMS
Eh, shaddap! I’ll be right back widh t’e food.

SEAN
Here Grams, let me give ya a hand.

GRAMS
I’ll be fine.
(yelling to the buzzer)
Shaddap!

Grams and Sean exit.

DANIEL
So, Connor. Sarah tells me you work for the mayor.

CONNOR
Not directly. I, eh, I work at City Hall, in the press office. I work more for the city than the mayor.

DANIEL
I see. Well, if you get the chance to talk to him, tell the mayor that I am 200% behind him on cutting those education extracurriculars out of the budget. Obviously, I don’t have any kids in public schools-we sent Sarah to private school anyway-so I don’t want my taxes getting higher, if it won’t help me out at all. And even so, shouldn’t they be getting enough out their education as is? I thought that was the point of all this No-Child-Left-Behind raising standards campaign going on. So anyway, if you see Tom, let him know he has my support. Do you call him Tom? Tommy?

CONNOR
I don’t really call him-
(Sarah elbows Connor)
He goes by Tip.

DANIEL
Tip? Like Tip O’Neil? That’s great.

BRIAN
And Mrs. Cantor, what is it you do again?

DEBBIE
I’m a receptionist over at the Burkle Academy. It’s one of those new scientific magnet schools they’re putting up for kids..

CONNOR
I hear they’re puttin’ magnet schools all over the place now.

Sean and Grams re-enter with food.

SEAN
Brian, could ya gather all the soup bowls and put ‘em in the sink?

BRIAN
Yes, sir.

Brian stands and collects bowls, exiting when his hands are full to get rid of them, and then returning. The dishes are passed around the table.

CONNOR
Well, Grams, what’ve we got?

SEAN
Ma made corned beef and cabbage

GRAMS
Also made bangers and mash, t’ough if ya don’t want bangers, I only put’em in half. Oh, and t’ere’s some black and white puddin’ if ya’d like.

DANIEL
Bangers?

CONNOR
Sausage.

DANIEL
Oh. Deb, is it too early for pudding? What can I say, I like dessert. Chocolate and vanilla, you said?

CONNOR
Actually, it’s just more links.

DEBBIE
We’re kosher.

SARAH
Mom...

SEAN
Pardon?

DANIEL
We can’t eat sausage.

DEBBIE
It’s our religion.

SARAH
You can still eat corned beef. And just don’t take any-bangers widh yer mash.

CONNOR
I’m assumin’ that cabbage is alright, too.

GRAMS
Somet’in’ the matter? Is my cookin’ not good for the guests?

SARAH
It’s fine, Mrs. Kierney. Grams. My mom’s just picky.

DEBBIE
Sarah, that’s enough. You’re cooking’s just fine, Mrs.-

SARAH
Kierney.

DEBBIE
My husband’s just a little picky about his food.

Daniel looks up from the meal he’s enjoying.

SEAN
I never understood why God make bacon if he wouldn’t let ya eat it.
(beat)
Just makin’ a joke. Sorry. Shall we say grace?

Everyone joins hands around the table. Daniel and Debbie are clearly uncomfortable.

Brian? Would ya do the honors?

BRIAN
Dear Lord. Thank you for the food before us. Thank you for all the growing things we can eat. And thank you for family, and for making us your children. Amen.

ALL
Amen.

(beat)

Everyone begins eating, except Debbie who reluctantly picks at her food, trying little bits at a time.

DEBBIE
I brought latkes. Brian put them in the kitchen for me.

DANIEL
Sweetie, that’s not a meal. Have you tried this beef? It’s delicious.

Debbie forces a smile and tries the beef, chewing reluctantly but clearly enjoying it deep inside.

DEBBIE
Do you have any wine? Some red wine would go great with this.

SEAN
Ma?

Grams smiles and gets up from the table.

DEBBIE
Oh, she shouldn’t get up. Have a seat, grandma. You already did all the cooking.

GRAMS
But I dinnae bring the wine.

She goes out.

BRIAN
Don’t worry about it. She’s a little stubborn.

SEAN
Brian, that’s your grandmother.
(to Debbie)
She can be stubborn, though. We let her go about her business ‘stead of gettin’ in her way. Hell hath no fury like a woman’s wrath.

Daniel chuckles at his, until Debbie’s stare shuts him up.

Grams re-enters with a bottle of meade.

DEBBIE
Oh...did you have anything red? Like a, uh, um, a sh-, sh....

SARAH
Shiraz?

DEBBIE
Shiraz? Zinfandel? What else...

GRAMS
Afraid not. Just a bottle o’ meade I’ve had fer...oh, some years now. The wine’s supposed to bring ya luck in love. On the weddin’ night, the bride’s parents give the newly weds enough to last until the next new moon. That’s yer honeymoon, for ya. Now I know t’at it’s a bit early-I know t’ey ain’t married just yet, but it’s a toast to the engagement, and the luck of it workin’ out. At this rate, I might not be around for the weddin’.

BRIAN
Don’t say that, Grams, you’re in great health-

GRAMS
T’ere’d be a weddin’ much sooner if ya’d only taken to the women, young man.

SEAN
Let’s just have a toast, then. To tradition-or breakin’ it-and to love.

A glass is poured for everyone, and they toast.

DANIEL
Shalom.

GRAMS
Slainte.

Black out.

SCENE 4
“Amazing Grace” instrumental playing.

Lights up. Sarah sits alone in a chair in the Kierney’s kitchen. After a moment, Connor enters; he is surprised to see her.

CONNOR
Sarah! What-what are you...?

SARAH
Hi, Connor.

CONNOR
Hi, um...how did you get in?

SARAH
Forgot I still had a spare key.
(she raises the key to show him)

CONNOR
Oh.
(beat)
So what are you doin’ here exactly?

SARAH
Sitting Shiva.

CONNOR
You’re sittin’ what? Sittin’ down? What-

SARAH
Shiva, Connor. It’s-how the Jewish people mourn. We...just sit. For 7 days, while people come to visit and pay their respects and all.

CONNOR
I see. Normally, we just get tanked, and we hope that no one gets into a fight.
(beat)
How long you been here so far?

SARAH
About 20 minutes.

CONNOR
Sounds like you still got a ways to go.
(he crosses across the stage to exit)

SARAH
Connor, wait.
(he stops, but does not turn around)
I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the funeral. I was tied up in some things at work and by the time I would have gotten there I would probably interrupted something-what with my impeccable timing and all-so I thought-
(beat)
I thought that I would come here, I thought-that I could sit Shiva or do something for you or something relevant or som...yeah.

CONNOR
Yeah.
(beat)
Well, it’s a good thing I stopped home between then. Wouldn’t want to leave you sittin’ here alone for a day and have me stumble in tomorrow night pissed on whiskey.
(beat)
Thanks, though.

SARAH
You’re welcome.
(beat)
Listen, Connor...could you quit being so damn stubborn all the time, and just turn and look at me for a moment?

Surprised by this, Connor turns around.

CONNOR
Well? What? What have you got to say?

SARAH
What I have to say is that I still care about you, Connor. More than I like to admit to myself sometimes, but I know how important she was to you, so I figured that this was the least I could do. I know what family means to you. Means to me...
(beat)

CONNOR
Is that all?

SARAH
Why do you do that? Why do you always feel like you have to martyr yourself? The only real difference between us is that you already had someone to do that for you, but then, here you are, still carrying that weight around on your shoulders like its your responsibility. You know, like you have to support a family alone, or you have to convert to keep me happy. But you know what, Connor? I don’t care. And I never did. And even if I did, I’d be there, carrying that cross with you, by your side, the whole damn time. That’s what love is, Connor. That’s what it’s supposed to be. It’s two against the world, instead of just one. When are you going to realize that?

CONNOR
Probably about the time I lose the two most important women in my life.
(beat)
Which, coincidentally, is right about now.

Silence.

CONNOR
I should-I should get goin’, I should get back to the wake. I should just change and I-

SARAH
Connor--

Connor grabs Sarah and passionately kisses her. Afterwards, he looks at her pleadingly.

CONNOR
Will ya come with me, Sarah? Will ya? I’m so sorry, about all of this. Sometimes it just takes somethin’ awful to open your eyes. Christ, I already buried one woman today. I’m not about to bury this, too. Well? What do ya say?

Connor offers his hand to Sarah. She smiles, nods, and takes his hand in hers. They move to exit.

CONNOR
Ya know she always liked you. Always askin’ about that pretty Jewish girl I had. She said your dark hair was like clouds over fields of May.

SARAH
What is that supposed mean?

CONNOR
To be honest, I’m not really sure. I think its just its one of those things that’s beautiful enough that you don’t ask questions.

BLACK OUT.

END.

yellow

2008-09-10T18:50:00.006-04:00

(that’s the whole point of no return) she said

picking pedals from a chartreuse pistil letting them
slip from her fingers without thought without
feeling as they fluttered to the floor to become some
thing or not that’s why we let them fly
or fade away
it’s like riding in a parking lot and leaving
training wheels on and on and on and never
standing on your own two
(wheels ways eyes feet) we
can/not keep waiting for the okay/go (why) yes/no
--broken glass and open windows—tethered safety
chords and time and rooms and lines and
(yours and mine)
waiting
waiting
waiting
waiting
waiting
waiting

STOP

(he loves me, he loves me not)

Gimme Shelter

2008-09-08T17:04:00.002-04:00

It was rare enough that John ever left his small, private ranch. It was rarer still that he would interact with anyone at all when he did. But after three days of seeing the same Woman stand in front of his house with Her umbrella opened, motionless, he was more than willing to break his unspoken vow of social celibacy.
In a previous life, John would have been considered charming. Charismatic. Witty. He probably would have been able to think of a more tactful way to approach the solemn Woman he’d been watching. Still, “What the hell are you doin’ on my property? It ain’t even rainin’,” seemed most appropriate to him at the time.
Understandably, She didn’t respond.
“Excuse me, ma’am. Bein’ that it hasn’t rained in…I don’t know, a long time, I’d like to know what you’re doin’ with that umbrella out here. This is private property.”
“Waiting for the rain,” she said, without turning around. “Sometimes, you just want the rain to come. Sometimes you want Heaven to explode and pour down all around you.”
“Well…do you mind waitin’ somewhere else? You’re on my land,” he answered dryly.
The Woman began to sing softly to Herself as She twirled Her umbrella, spraying water in every direction and showering John. He stood there for a moment, silent and dripping, as he thought of new ways to approach the situation until he was able to make out what She was whisper-singing: “This land is your land. This land is my land…”
This pulled John from his drip-induced daze. Betty used to love Guthrie, he thought. “Ma’am? Can you hear me? Hello?” he tried again.
“Yes, and I responded to your question,” She said emphatically.
“But you’re still on my property.”
“What I’m standing on is a sad, sad strip of parched earth that happens to stretch in front of a place that I assume is your home—unless you would be a liar—and all I happen to be doing is patiently waiting for the rain to come,” She asserted.
John rolled his eyes and walked towards the Woman. “Alright, Lady. You been here three whole days and there ain’t been a sign of rain. There ain’t been a rain cloud for weeks. Have you ever been to Arizona before?”
“Lived My whole life here. And then some,” She responded—then She started to turn around, slowly and carefully so as not to reveal Her face. She lifted her arm and pointed next to the house. “I planted a tree right over there on our wedding day.”
“Well, musta been somewheres else, ‘cause there ain’t no tree there, Lady.” He reached his hand out to her shoulder. “Now come on, get goin’. There’s no trees, and no rain, and—Jeezus!”
Just as he was about to touch her shoulder, the sky—which, moments earlier, had been perfectly clear—suddenly burst into a tremendous downpour, as if all the rain that had hid for the summer decided to come down all at once. He looked up at the Woman, who remained standing in the same position. Much like the ground below Her feet, She was completely protected by the umbrella, staying just as deathly dry as the cracking earth.
“If you don’t get off the property, I’m’a have to call the cops,” John shouted as he ran for the porch.
“You don’t have a telephone,” the Woman responded calmly.
“How do you know what I do or don’t got?”
“I don't see any telephone poles. Not for miles.”
Standing on his front steps, John hesitated as he tried to out-rationalize Her or think of an appropriate response, but the only one he had was to slam the door and leave Her out in the rain.
For the rest of the evening, John watched Her from his window. At first, he was fidgety and anxious, but as the night waned on, John found himself entranced by Her statue-like state, and soon, he, too, was confined still and silent to his seat by the window. He stayed that way for hours until finally, he fell asleep. But the Woman had not moved.
The next morning, he awoke in his chair with a cramp in his neck. His first response was to stretch and massage it, tasks which kept him distracted from the sight outside his window. After a few minutes, John finally took notice—of nothing. The Woman, it seemed, had left after the rain. There were no footsteps but his in the dirt, and the ground was just as dry and cracked as it had ever been. He went outside, curious and incredulous and blinded by the sun, but he could not find a trace of the Woman or the rain. He played the scene back through his head, fast-forwarding and rewinding through his memories of the evening, to no avail. As he turned to head back inside, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye—a small sapling, forcing its way out of the hard earth. It was the same spot where he had buried his wife all those years ago.

Flamingo Pink

2008-09-05T17:04:00.002-04:00

It always starts out with an excuse, a justification, something to alleviate the guilt and awkwardness. “Are you sure you’re okay?” or, “I’ve never done this before,” or “Does that feel good?” A voice that spills in hushed whispers, wearing a sexy disguise of low decibel tones and airy breath that tickles the other’s ear. Subtle, revealing secrets that manage somehow to advance the foreplay to another step when choreographed and dubbed to the nervous grope of fingertips that dance across her skin.
“You like that, baby? Yeah?” fumbled Andy from his lips as he worked his hand down her thigh. He stood above her, looking down at her with slotted eyes as he bit his lip and pulled the skin of his cheeks tight against his teeth. Her thighs were thick like watermelons, with the texture to boot—skin like vinyl, recessed beneath incongruous ridges of razor burn and rashes trying desperately to clear.
He kneaded her flesh with a hard sensuality until his first finger reached the ridge; his hand stopped at the cliff, like a bungee jumper paralyzed with a sudden fear of heights. His trembling fingers tried to recover and sneak back up her leg, but she grabbed his hand with hers and placed it back on her raw, severed flesh.
“Wassamatah, baby,” she squeaked too loudly. “Ya neva bin wit’ a amputee befoah?
He fumbled for a suitable response—“What? Sure, I…”
“Or ya neva bin wit’ a prah’sitoot?” she growled, less like a cat and more like a lion devouring it’s prey. “Why’nt’chu c’mere n’ put yer cahk in it, baby?”
Andy quickly pulled his hand from the stump of her leg and held the armrests of her wheelchair with a kung-fu grip. He clenched his muscles tightly as pushed up on the armrests and lifted himself onto her. “Uh, yeah. Are you-are you ready for my cock now, b-baby?”
“Mm, yeah.” As she slid down in her seat to give him better access, Andy’s fragile left arm buckled at the elbow, unable to support his weight. He flailed backwards, his nervous leg kicking frantically, fumbling for grounding but finding instead the brake release of her wheelchair. With one wheel still stabilized, the chair began to pivot until the other wheel spun off the edge of the stairwell landing. Gravity pulled her viciously down the stairs like an angry beast grasping for his meal but still confined to his pit. Sprawled out on his back, Andy couldn’t see her topple down the stairs—but the war drum rhythm was unmistakable and deafening as it echoed throughout the stairwell.
After a moment of shock and gathering senses, Andy leaped to his feet and bounded pantless down the stairs. He could hear the warbled torque of her bent and twisted wheel—still spinning in an oblong route—cutting through the air the whole down. As he got closer, he could make out another soft, liquid sound that kept a steady beat beneath it.
“Baby? You okay?” he asked with a waver in his voice as his eyes scanned the wreckage with the excitement of a driver going past a motor vehicle accident on the interstate. But he didn’t lost his erection until he saw blood from her head dripping off the ledge of the bottom stair and pooling on the landing below.

Double Bogie

2008-09-04T15:04:00.001-04:00

No man should have to bury his son.
That’s one of two things my father ever taught me, the other being that a son should always surpass his own father in greatness. He said that every boy follows in his father’s footsteps, but at some point, to become a man, the son must overcome the father’s shadow and become something more, something greater, making each successive generation better than the last.
So here I am, casting a shadow over the grave of my youngest son, Matthew. In my hand, I hold a piece of paper given to me by my other son, David, who is three years Matt’s elder. It was in turn given to him by his doctor, Sam Winston. Winston’s a twelve handicap, but he usually plays like a seven. We’re all pretty sure that he’s not submitting his scorecards, but no one calls him on it.
The piece of paper in my hand is David’s chemotherapy schedule. He needs me to drive him because his license was suspended for DWI. Matthew was in the car when it happened. They had just won the member-member. They got their names added to the plaque on the wall. I’d have been proud if I had known—my name’s up there twice.
Ever since my wife brought him home from the hospital, David always looked after Matt. Protected him, like an older brother should. The car hit one of those orange water bumper barrels on the highway, which, obviously, the water doesn’t really do much except make a big bloody puddle. David got out of the car; Matthew didn’t.
My own father died ten years ago, natural causes. He never told me that he loved me, not once. It’s stuck with me, haunted me well into my adult life. Me, I never miss an opportunity to say it to the people who matter most. Not after that.
I never thought I’d run out of opportunities.

Sidekicks #3: Everywhen But Here

2008-09-03T17:34:00.001-04:00

PAGE 1

1/1 DISTANCE-ESTABLISHING SHOT-EXT-JOSIE’S HOME-DUSK
A brightly colored suburban home on the small side, with an ill-maintained lawn. The small frame of a woman (Cate) approaches the driveway carrying something.

1/2 MEDIUM
The focus is on Cate’s feet as they ascend the concrete front stairs of the home; she is only visible from the back of the thigh down.

1/3 CLOSE-UP-INSET
Cate’s finger presses a doorball.

1/4 INT-JOSIE’S LIVING ROOM-DUSK
Josie attention turns away from the television in front of her and she looks towards the front door.

SFX
BZZZZZZZZZ. BZZZ BZZZZZZZZ.

1/5 MEDIUM CLOSE-INSET
Josie rolls her eyes unenthusiastically.

1/6 MEDIUM WIDE
Josie gets up from the couch and moves to get the door.

PAGE 2
The layout of the page should show a door ajar on the left, in the first vertical third, with the panels filling in the space remaining.

2/1 MEDIUM-CATE’S POV-OVER-THE-SHOULDER
From behind Cate’s head, we see Josie standing at the door with a look of confusion tinged with a look of annoyance.

JOSIE
Hello?

2/2 MEDIUM-DIFFERENT ANGLE
Cate’s face is finally revealed; she wears a warm smile that compliments her Sunday’s Best (though it’s the middle of the week) and she carries a basket of food with her.

CATE
Hello, dear! How are you?

CATE (CONT’D)
*sigh* I’d almost forgotten what a beautiful girl you turned out to be.

JOSIE
Um...can I help you?

2/3 DIFFERENT ANGLE
Cate’s attention shifts to the basket as she digs through it with her free hand, surveying her own handy work.

CATE
Oh, there’s no need for that.

CATE (CONT’D)
John and I-and Lionel, too-we heard about your father’s accident last week. I just wanted to let you know that you’re all in our prayers.

2/4 DIFFERENT ANGLE
Bursting with excitement and pride, Cate raises her arm carrying the basket and offers it towards Josie.

CATE
So here you are. A little “get well” dinner, for the whole family. I know how hard it can be with the provider out of commission for a while.

2/5 MEDIUM CLOSE
Josie looks down at the basket, more than a little creeped out.

CATE (O.S.)
Oh, and the tupperware is yours to keep, of course.

2/6 CLOSE-UP INSET
A small card with an image of the Virgin Mary rests on top of the basket.

JOSIE (O.S.)
Thanks...

2/7 MEDIUM CLOSE
As the door slams out sight, Cate stands silently waiting. Her smile has not faded, though her eyes register confusion or disappointment.

SFX
SLAM!

PAGE 3
NOTE: This is supposed to be a dream sequence, or a hallucination that present-day Twitch is having from the dumpster as he recalls the story; obviously, it connects back to the forward-moving part of the story, but I thought we should try to remind readers of where the narrator stands presently without breaking up the narrative too much.

3/1 WIDE-EXT-A FIELD-DAY
Two windmills stand majestically at the far end of a sweeping green field. Two figures on horseback, armed with lances, approach.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
I haven’t eaten in days at this point.

3/2 MEDIUM CLOSE-RIDERS’ POV
From behind the mysterious riders, we see the two windmills again; a woman, bearing a striking resemblance to Josie only decked out in a ridiculous princess get-up, looks out a window, flailing her arms. One rider wears medieval armor, one moves his arm to left up the face shield on his helmet; the other is dressed like a cowboy archetype.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
And I think it’s finally starting to get to me.

3/3 CLOSE-UP
In the foreground, the first Knight has pulled up his face shield, revealing Twitch’s face underneath. Behind him, Walker-as-cowboy prepares for battle.

TWITCH
Prithee, thy fair maiden waits upon yonder window!

TWITCH (CONT’D)
Alas, my friend, I am without adeptness at the ways of the sword. Dost thou truly believe thou canst defeat these evil giants in combat?

3/4 CLOSE-UP-WALKER’S POV
Walker looks past Twitch at the windmills, ready to charge into battle.

WALKER
Guess we’ll find out, huh?

WALKER (CONT’D)
C’mon. Let’s be goddamn heroes.

3/5 CLOSE
Walker screams as he charges into battle; Twitch follows reluctantly behind.

WALKER
YAAAARGH!

TWITCH (CAPTION)
Now, when I see things in my head, it’s kind of like this.

PAGE 4

SPLASH
Mrs. Henderson and Walker in “millipede vision,” shown as long extensions of themselves, simultaneously from birth to death. The shot of Mrs. Henderson from last issue should be the focus here, to remind us of where we left off. Other characters can be in this splash as well, in the same millipede form-in general, this page seem like a calamity of lives, from beginning to end, splashed and spilled together like liquid.
That is, except Twitch, who is the only one who is not a millipede person.

CREDITS
“Tilting at Windmills, or, Everywhen But Here”
Created by Thom Dunn, Paul Cantillon, and Dmitry Milkin

TWITCH (CAPTION)
Everything that ever has been. Everything that ever will be.

TWITCH (CAPTION) (CONT’D)
Everything, at once.

TWITCH (CAPTION) (CONT’D)
How do you know which face is now? Or which who happens when?

TWITCH (CAPTION) (CONT’D)
Okay, sure. Maybe I’ve just completely lost it.

TWITCH (CAPTION) (CONT’D)
But maybe it’s a matter of perspective. Maybe if you change your angle-change the way you look at things-maybe if you just change the way you stand-

TWITCH (CAPTION) (CONT’D)
Maybe you can change the future.

TWITCH (CAPTION) (CONT’D)
Maybe you can change the past.

TWITCH (CAPTION) (CONT’D)
Or maybe...

*On the following pages, during Mrs. Henderson’s lectures, her speech bubbles can be partially covered or obscured by others.

PAGE 5

5/1 BLACK
The panel is all black, but for a single speech bubble:

CHRIS (O.S.)
This is stupid.

CHRIS (O.S.) (CONT’D)
Can we go back to the part about the Tasmanian Devil?

5/2 WIDE-INT-HIGH SCHOOL CLASSROOM-DAY
Walker, Twitch, Chris, Josie, et al in Mrs. Henderson’s history class. Mrs. Henderson is clearly not amused by this remark. There is a map of Australia pulled down on the board behind her. The analog clock on the wall should read 10:35.

MRS. HENDERSON
I assure you, they’re not as cuddly as the Warner Brothers would have you think.

MRS. HENDERSON (CONT’D)
Why, they don’t even do that little...tornado spin-y thing they do on television.

MRS. HENDERSON (SMALL) (CONT’D)
Though I suppose that rabbits can’t speak English in the real world either.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
Memory is a funny thing.

5/3 MEDIUM CLOSE-DIFFERENT ANGLE
Mrs. Henderson turns her back to face the board.

MRS. HENDERSON (SMALL)
Now where was I...

5/4 MEDIUM-WALKER’S POV
Walker looks over at Twitch, who is paying attention to Mrs. Henderson

TWITCH (CAPTION)
Although, I guess it’s not really funny in that I-told-you-so sense, because if it were, that would defeat the entire point of trying to articulate whatever it is I’m trying to articulate.

MRS. HENDERSON
Ah, yes! Here we are!

MRS. HENDERSON (CONT’D)
While each aboriginal tribe does have its own variation on the creation myth, there is a-generalized-consensus regarding this notion of the Dreaming.

MRS. HENDERSON (CONT’D)
Which, as I was trying to say before, seems to contradict the commonly accepted Western understanding of time.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
(And obviously, it’s not hilarious)

5/5 MEDIUM CLOSE
Focus on Twitch, as Walker still tries getting his attention from across the room in that way that people do by focusing all their energy on someone else. On Twitch’s wrist, we should see a digital watch that reads 10:28.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
It’s kind of like trying to explain to someone why you organize your clothes the way you do.

MRS. HENDERSON
An oversimplification of this concept...

MRS. HENDERSON (SMALL) (CONT’D)
...but one that I suppose would suffice...

MRS. HENDERSON (CONT’D)
...would be to say that history and dreams in Aboriginal cultures are viewed as being completely objective, whereas one’s personal sense of time and memory is subjective.

PAGE 6

6/1 MEDIUM-DIFFERENT ANGLE
Twitch finally notices Walker looking at him, and he looks back, with an inquisitive expression on his face.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
As far as you’re concerned, there’s only one place that socks could possibly go, and that’s in the left-hand side of the top drawer of the dresser, next to the underwear, which should always stay in the center.

MRS. HENDERSON
Being that the past-history, if you will-is inexplicably linked to both our present and our future, the three are seen to exist in simultaneity and harmony.

MRS. HENDERSON (CONT’D)
It is our dreams that connect our souls to the greater, all-encompassing web of life.

6/2 MEDIUM-TWITCH’S POV
Twitch looks back at Walker, who simply rolls his eyes at the lecture.

MRS. HENDERSON
Now, I know it might sound like I’m just advocating History as a field of study, but there is a distinct cultural relevance in these ideas.

MRS. HENDERSON (CONT’D)
Yes, Justin?

TWITCH (CAPTION)
Of course, someone else might use the bottom drawer, or-God forbid-a middle one (which makes no sense, whatsoever), because that just seems right to them.

TWITCH (CAPTION) (CONT’D)
(Again, unless it’s a middle drawer, because that’s just wrong no matter how you cut it.)

6/3 WIDE-MRS. HENDERSON’S POV
Mrs. Henderson calls on Justin, who nervously asks a questions. In the background, Twitch can be seen looking at Walker still, while Walker shrugs his shoulders.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
The point is, I could really use a new pair of socks now. There’s some really gross garbage juice in here, and it soaked through a while ago.

JUSTIN
This isn’t going to be on the test, is it?

JUSTIN (CONT’D)
All this...theoretical time...stuff.

MRS. HENDERSON
I’m afraid not, though you shouldn’t take that as an excuse for not doing the reading.

MRS. HENDERSON (CONT’D)
Just because it’s not on the test doesn’t mean it’s not important.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
And the tragic irony of it all? I don’t even know how long I’ve been here in this dumpster. The logic of my own memory is a mystery even to me-which I guess makes sense, with all that’s been going on.

6/4 CLOSE UP-INSET?
Close up on the analog clock in the classroom, with Twitch’s face reflected in the plexiglass.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
So my socks are back in the left hand side of the top drawer of my dresser at John and Cate’s house, and I’m here waiting for the Future Garbage Truck to come and take me away.

MRS. HENDERSON (O.S.)
However, Chapter Thirty Seven, which deals with the specifics of some of the more popular Creation epochs, will be.

PAGE 7

7/1 MEDIUM
Mrs. Henderson’s head is cut off in “Muppet Babies” fashion again, as Twitch and Walker try to talk inconspicuously.

MRS. HENDERSON
Interestingly enough, “The Dreaming” is actually a term that was popularized by an Australian anthropologist named WEH Stanner.

WALKER (WHISPER)
What are we supposed to do about this?

MRS. HENDERSON
Despite it’s popularity in the English language canon, the term was actually intended to serve as an insult of sorts. An Aboriginal man reportedly told Stanner that the-and I quote-”White man got no Dreaming,” a phrase which Stanner ironically adored and used as a title for one of his books.

TWITCH (WHISPER)
I don’t know...

MRS. HENDERSON
The Aborigines, of course, are not English speakers, and-yes, Chris?

7/2 MEDIUM CLOSE
Focus on Chris, as he tries to crack a joke.

TWITCH (O.S.)(WHISPER)
...you’re the action hero.

CHRIS
So are you kind of saying that Morpheus from The Matrix was one of these guys?

CHRIS (CONT’D)
I mean, Laurence Fishburne’s black, the aborgines are black-ish, and the Matrix is all about the same kind of dreaming mind stuff and all, you know?

MRS. HENDERSON (O.S.)
Thank you for your insight, Chris.

CHRIS
No problem, Missus H.

7/3 MEDIUM-DIFFERENT ANGLE
Walker rolls his eyes at Chris’s joke.

WALKER (WHISPER)
Well, do you remember anything?

TWITCH (WHISPER)
Yes, I told you what I saw!

WALKER (WHISPER)
Do you remember any details, or-? Maybe you can bring the image back in your head, paint a picture or something.

WALKER (WHISPER) (SMALL) (CONT’D)
Or have Tim Sale do it.

MRS. HENDERSON
As I was saying, calling it “The Dreaming,” or, “Dreamtime,” can be seen as somewhat ignorant by some of the Aborigine tribes.

7/4 MEDIUM-DIFFERENT ANGLE

TWITCH (WHISPER)
Maybe we could ask her? After class?

WALKER (WHISPER)
That’ll go over great. Oh, hi Mrs. Henderson. Do you have any dying planned soon that we could help stop?

WALKER (WHISPER) (CONT’D)
Oh, by the way, I was wondering if I could get some extra credit if I punch Chris in the face while I’m at it.

MRS. HENDERSON
The Anangu, for example, call this idea Tjukurpa. In fact, they have no word for dreams or dreaming in their language and all, and some take insult with the idea that we would consider such an important spiritual truth to be the equivalent of dreams, of sleep-induced fantasies.

MRS. HENDERSON (CONT’D)
Whereas many people in English-speaking countries do believe that dreams reflect life, the Anangu believe that what we call “The Dreaming” is life, in all its forms, existing beyond time.

CHRIS (SMALL)
Who makes this shit up...

TWITCH (WHISPER)
Look, I don’t know if she’s going to die necessarily, she just...looked like she was in a lot of pain, that’s all.

TWITCH (WHISPER) (CONT’D)
Well, plus she was sprawled out on the floor. But that could just be a coincidence!

7/5 MEDIUM CLOSE
Mrs. Henderson gives a stern look.

MRS. HENDERSON
Gentlemen...

7/6 TWO-SHOT
Shrunken with embarrassment and shame, Walker and Twitch exchange a look.

WALKER AND TWITCH
Sorry Mrs. Henderson.

PAGE 8

8/1 FULL FIGURE TWO-SHOT-INT-HIGH SCHOOL HALLWAY-DAY
Walker and Twitch talk as they leave the classroom.

WALKER
I just think you need to start training, that’s all.

TWITCH
Training? I’m not running a marathon, Walker.

WALKER
You know what I mean. We need to discipline your..your eye thing, so we can use it. The eye is a muscle after all, like anything else.

THE REST OF THE PAGE IS A SINGLE IMAGE, BROKEN VERTICALLY INTO PANELS (MAINLY FOR DIALOGUE'S SAKE), AND DEPICTS WALKER AND TWITCH STANDING IN THE HALLWAY SPEAKING, WHILE THE REST OF THE STUDENT BODY BLURS/MILLIPEDES AROUND THEM.

8/2

TWITCH
No, it’s not.

WALKER
Sure it is. What else could it be?

TWITCH
It’s-they’re-organs, like the heart or the lungs.

8/3

WALKER
Really?

WALKER (SMALL) (CONT’D)
Weird.

TWITCH
Listen, Walker-I feel like this is all just a little much right now.

WALKER
What, Henderson’s lecture? I’ll just wiki it later, it can’t be that confusing. But we should really focus more on-

TWITCH
Okay, I get it. This whole twitchy eye thing is really cool and all, but a few days ago you didn’t even know my first name. Now you’re all anxious to run around playing hero? It’s just kind of sudden. Maybe...

8/4

TWITCH
Maybe it’s too fast. Maybe we’re all moving too fast.

8/5

WALKER
Listen. We know that something bad is going to happen to Mrs. Henderson soon.

TWITCH
We don’t-

WALKER
AH.

WALKER (CONT’D)
We-that’s you and me-we are the only ones with the power to prevent this. It’s our duty-our responsibility.

8/6

TWITCH
Oh, sorry, didn’t realize you were Smokey the Spider-Bear all the sudden. Does that mean I get a code name, too, or...?

WALKER
What?

TWITCH
Nevermind.

8/7

WALKER
What does that even-

TWITCH
I told you to forget it.

TWITCH (CONT’D)
But yes, okay, you’ve got a point, I admit.

WALKER
So why are you being hesitant? I thought this was your thing! Epic quests, and damsels in distress, and something else that rhymes. It’s like those books you’re always carrying around!

TWITCH (CAPTION)
You’d think I’d know the difference between fiction and reality by now.

TWITCH (CONT’D)
But those are books, Walker. And that’s just me. What I still want to know-what I still don’t get-

PAGE 9

9/1 INT.-HIGH SCHOOL CAFETERIA - DAY
From Twitch’s perspective, Walker is sitting at a table eating lunch with friends, including Chris, the rest of whom are clearly jocks or “cool” guys. They are all laughing and having a good time.

TWITCH (O.S.)
“...what’s in it for you?”

GUY 1
You’re fuckin’ kidding me, dude! She said that?

GUY 2
Yeah man. She’s totally into that shit.

9/2 MEDIUM CLOSE
Walker looks over his shoulder, away from the group. He hasn’t been paying attention to the conversation at all.

GUY 1
What about you, Walker? You been goin’ through a dry spell or somethin’ lately? Whatever happened with, uh...what the fuck’s her name...

9/3 WIDE
Sitting alone at a table, with the world buzzing-even blurring-around him, Twitch eats lunch alone reading “Don Quixote.”

GUY 1 (O.S.)
Walker?

9/4 MEDIUM
Saving face, Walker turns around and rejoins the conversation with the guys. A hint of skepticism or suspicion sneaks across Chris’s face, however.

WALKER
What? Yeah, sorry.

WALKER (CONT’D)
I’m just kind of spacing today. Late night.

GUY 2
I hear that. I was trying to read for Henderson’s class the other day, right? Took me like, four hours.

GUY 2 (CONT’D)
That shit makes no sense, at all.

9/5 CLOSE-INSET
Chris looks back in Twitch’s direction.

9/6 CLOSE
Chris turns his attention back to the group and motions in Twitch’s direction.

CHRIS
Hey.

CHRIS (CONT’D)
Did I tell you guys what happened with Twitchie Richie’s mom the other day?

PAGE 10

10/1 MEDIUM WIDE
Twitch is looking down at the table, still reading and eating and not paying much attention to the world around him.

10/2 SAME
The panel is the same,except a person-shaped shadow has now fallen over Twitch.

10/3 SAME
The panel is the same as the previous one, except Twitch has now looked up at the shadow’s source.

CHRIS (O.S.)
What was your Mom doing over at my girlfriend’s the other night, creep?

TWITCH (CAPTION)
You’d think I’d know when I’m being set-up for a joke...

TWITCH (CONT’D)
What the heck?

TWITCH (SMALL) (CONT’D)
Am I supposed to answer that seriously?

10/4 MEDIUM-TWITCH’S POV
Hands on the table, Chris stares down Twitch.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
...or when I’m the punch line.

CHRIS
I heard you made dinner for Josie and you had your mom deliver it.

CHRIS (CONT’D)
Too scared to stalk my girlfriend on your own, so you ask your mom to do it for you?

10/5 CLOSE
Still sitting at the lunch table with the other guys observing Chris’s masculine assertion, Walker’s face reveals his empathy. He’s torn between saving face and letting it happen, or stepping in and standing up for Twitch.

10/5 CLOSE
Completely confounded by this accusation, Twitch searches frantically in his head for an answer as his eye begins to twitch.

TWITCH
Um...I don’t...I’m not really sure what that-

CHRIS (O.S.)
See, now I know you’re lying,’cause that creepy little eye of yours is freaking out.

10/6 MEDIUM
As Twitch struggles to gain control over the coming vision, Walker comes over and places a hand on Chris’s shoulder.

WALKER
Hey, man. Knock it off.

WALKER (CONT’D)
It’s not like Josie’s gonna leave you for him or anything.

CHRIS
Man, what is with you lately? Why are you defending this freak?

WALKER
Why are you always starting shit? You think you’re so fucking macho, but you always pick on the weakest links.

WALKER (CONT’D)
You’re a real manly man, Chris. Maybe you should-

TWITCH (SMALL)
Hnnnn...

10/7 CLOSE
Twitch ejaculates in pain from his oncoming vision.

TWITCH
GAH!

PAGE 11

SPLASH
A collage of images, with Twitch’s writhing face in the center.
--The same image of Mrs. Henderson collapsing, with close-ups of it scattered throughout the collage as well.
--A hand stroking Josie’s face. It is Walker’s hand, though his face is not visible.
--A doctor writing out a prescription or diagnosis.
--Marissa, dressed much more angrily and militant, screaming about something.

PAGE 12

12/1-MEDIUM
As Twitch pulls himself together, Chris looks down at him with a disgusted look. Whether he is disgusted by Twitch, or with himself for being embarassed by Walker is up for debate. Walker looks to Twitch with concern, but still tries to maintain and assert his Alpha Male status.

TWITCH (SMALL)
Hunh...hff...hn...

12/2-SAME
A clash of glares from Chris and Walker; Twitch is still recovering.

12/3-MEDIUM WIDE
Chris turns his back and walks away from the table, getting the last word in a “hail mary” attempt to save face; the entire cafeteria has been watching. Walker checks in with Twitch, who has finally sat up.

CHRIS
Yeah. Whatever, Don Juan.

CHRIS (CONT’D)
Have fun with Don Quixote over here.

WALKER
You okay?

TWITCH (SMALL)
I did it...

WALKER
What?

12/4 MEDIUM
Twitch, still recovering, looks up excitedly and wide-eyed at Walker, who stands beside him.

TWITCH (SMALL)
Mrs. Henderson...hhnh...falling...I saw it again...

12/5 MEDIUM
Immediately, Walker takes the seat beside Twitch, gushing with adrenaline.

WALKER
You saw it? You brought the vision back? What did you see this time?

WALKER (SMALL) (CONT’D)
I knew it.

TWITCH (SMALL)
Well, I...ahh...didn’t really pay attention...huuh...I was kind of distracted...

TWITCH (SMALL) (CONT’D)
Thanks, by the way.

WALKER
Don’t worry about it.

WALKER (CONT’D)
You got the vision back once, which means we can bring it back again and figure out how to stop it.

TWITCH (SMALL)
Heh...”we”?

12/6 CLOSE
A cocky but exuberant grin, dripping both of mischief and courage, takes over Walker’s face.

WALKER
You heard me. Now c’mon.

WALKER (CONT’D)
Let’s be goddamn heroes.

PAGE 13

13/1 BIRD’S EYE VIEW-EXT-TREETOP/YARD-DAY-FLASHBACK
Looking down on young Walker, he reaches up towards something in the branches of the tree.

UNCLE (O.S.)
That’s it...There he is...You got him.

13/2 MEDIUM
Young Walker, standing on a ladder supported by his Uncle below, cradles a cat in his arms.

SFX (CAT)
Mreow.

UNCLE (O.S.)
Alright Walker, now come on down, nice and slow.

13/3 MEDIUM-WOMAN’S POV
Walker gets down from the ladder, cat in arms, with help from Uncle Ted.

UNCLE
There we go.

13/4 MEDIUM
Walker hands the cat to the Woman, a neighbor, who is ecstatic to have her cat back.

WALKER
Here you go, ma’am.

WOMAN
Oh, Walker! Thank you! Thank you so much!

WOMAN (CONT’D)
Ted, thank you, too, of course.

UNCLE
It’s our pleasure.

13/5 MEDIUM CLOSE
Uncle Ted puts his hand on Walker’s shoulder; his head is cut off.

UNCLE
See, I told you. You’ve got courage lie a lion. How’s it feel to be a hero?

PAGE 14-15

14-15/1 MEDIUM INT-HIGH SCHOOL HALLWAY-DAY-PRESENT
Backed up against a locker inconspicuously, Walker glances around.

14-15/2 WIDE
Chris yelling at Josie in the middle of the hallway. She pouts angrily and defiantly, eyes rolled.

14-15/3 MEDIUM-CLOSE
The doorway to Mrs. Henderson’s classroom; her name is visible on a plate on the wall beside the door.

14-15/4 SAME ANGLE
Mrs. Henderson comes to the door to leave.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
Do you ever feel like you’re just waiting for something to happen?

14-15/5 MEDIUM
Twitch looks up from the book he’s reading, sitting propped against a wall.

14-15/6 CLOSE
Walker looks intently and intensely at Twitch (off-panel), trying to communicate non-verbally; his jaw is clenched tight and eyes are wide.

14-15/7 MEDIUM
Twitch, from the same angle as before, eyes turned to look in the direction that Walker is (presumably) notioning.

14-15/8 WIDE
Mrs. Henderson walks down the hall, hobbling a bit; Chris and Josie can still be seen, somewhat obscured from view behind her. Josie has begun to walk away.

14-15/9 SAME ANGLE
Mrs. Henderson has walked further now, almost to the edge of the panel; behind her, more focused, is Josie, walking away from Chris defiantly as he yells after her.

14-15/10 SAME ANGLE
Chris alone, throwing his arms up in frustration, giving up.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
It’s like you know exactly what’s to come, and there’s nothing you can do but wait for it to hit you.

14-15/11 MEDIUM CLOSE
Twitch looks to Walker, with an inquisitive look of surprise.

14-15/12 MEDIUM CLOSE
Walker shrugs.

14-15/13 SAME
Walker nods his head in Mrs. Henderson’s direction.

14-15/14 WIDE
Mrs. Henderson continues to walk away down the hall; she’s at least 20 yards away by now.

14-15/15 MEDIUM
Twitch shoots an incredulous look in Walker’s direction.

14-15/16 MEDIUM CLOSE
Walker shrugs again.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
I’m sure I’m not the only one that gets that feeling.

TWITCH (CAPTION) (CONT’D)
All things considered.

PAGE 16

16/1 TWO-SHOT
Twitch approaches Walker.

TWITCH
Now what?

WALKER
Now?

16/2 SAME
Twitch waits impatiently for a response. Walker looks down to the ground nervously searching for an answer.

WALKER
Ummm, well, uh-there could-um...

TWITCH
Seriously. What did that accomplish?

16/3 CLOSE
Walker shrugs, jokingly and charismatically, with a feigned innocence in his smile.

WALKER
...reconnaissance?

16/4 MEDIUM CLOSE
Twitch rolls his eyes and throws his head back.

16/5 TWO-SHOT-DIFFERENT ANGLE
Twitch steps it up, pointing at Walker (if he were more of a man, he’d poke him in the chest). Walker is surprised even by this slight step he’s taken.

TWITCH
If you really want to do something about this, then by all means, let’s do something.

TWITCH (CONT’D)
Especially if it’s going to make these...things subside.

TWITCH (CONT’D)
But if you’re just going to sit here and boost up your ego with delusions of grandeur, then forget it. I’m out. I’m done with your little prank.

16/6 MEDIUM CLOSE
Twitch indicates to Walker that they need to get going.

TWITCH
Let’s get to class.

TWITCH (SMALL) (CONT’D)
I won’t even make you sit with me.

PAGE 17

17/1 WIDE
Ms. Eliot teaching, indicating the board. The backs of students’ heads are once again visible--Walker is captivated, Twitch is distracted, Josie and Chris are separated, and Justin is hunched over, scribbling in his notebook.

MS. ELIOT
Can anyone tell me the benefits of a narrative like the one that Vonnegut uses here? When we’re told what’s going happen ahead of time, but not exactly how?

17/2 CLOSE
Ms. Eliot calls on a student.

MS. ELIOT
Ryan?

17/3 MEDIUM CLOSE
Twitch drifts off, clearly not paying attention. Walker can be seen behind him raising his hand.

RYAN (O.S.)
Uh, it’s like...idunno, it’s kinda like foreshadowing.

WALKER
It helps create suspense...

17/4 CLOSE
Close-up on the clock in the classroom, which reads 1:45pm.

WALKER (O.S.)
...by making the reader anticipate what’s going to happen.

WALKER (CONT’D)
‘Cause the reader knows things that the characters don’t.

MS. ELIOT (O.S.)
Very good, Walker.

PAGE 18

18/1 LARGE PANEL
Twitch sharply and suddenly sits up at his desk, eyes wide, with his right eye twitching. They rest of the students might be visible around him, but they should be opaque and faded; the rest of the panel is filled up with various images from his previous vision of Mrs. Henderson, repeated at different distances and zooms. Specifically, the time on her clock (1:47) should keep building on top of other fragmented images, each time getting closer and closer.

18/2 WIDE
Ms. Eliot continues to teach, but is stopped when she notices something.

MS. ELIOT
Now, who can tell--yes, Twitch?

18/3 CLOSE
Twitch anxiously asks a question.

TWITCH
Can I go to the bathroom?

MS. ELIOT (O.S.)
Of course. Go...

18/4 SAME ANGLE
Twitch is already out of his scene; Walker looks puzzled but curious.

MS. ELIOT (O.S.)
...right ahead.

PAGE 19

19/1 WIDE
Twitch’s hand reaches towards Mrs. Henderson’s door (which we can tell by the nametag plaque next to it. Or not.)

19/2 ONE-SHOT-INT-MRS. HENDERSON’S CLASSROOM-AFTERNOON
Twitch enters Mrs. Henderson’s classroom, speaking before he gets even half of his body in the door.

TWITCH
Mrs. Henderson?

TWITCH (CONT’D)
Hello?

19/3 MEDIUM
Mrs. Henderson sits at her desk. She looks up towards the door, bringing her glasses down to the tip of her nose.

MRS. HENDERSON
Hello, Lionel. What can I do for you?

19/4 MEDIUM CLOSE
Twitch, uncertain of how to answer without sounding like a nut, desperately and awkwardly grasps for something to say. He looks down and to the right, partially to hide his twitching right eye.

TWITCH
Um...I just...I...

TWITCH (CONT’D)
There was...umm...

19/5 INSET
Twitch looks at the watch on the wrist; the time is 1:46 and somelot of seconds.

19/6 SAME ANGLE AS BEFORE
Twitch looks up, excitedly feigning confidence.

TWITCH
I just wanted to say that all that...Aborigine stuff you were talking about today, with The Dreaming and whatnot. That was really interesting.

PAGE 20

20/1 WIDE-TWITCH’S POV OVER-THE-SHOULDER
Twitch keeps talking, trying to come up with an answer, as Mrs. Henderson looks at him. She is skeptical, but amused.

TWITCH
And, you did a really good job, you know,of...of explaining all those crazy concepts.

20/2 MEDIUM CLOSE
Twitch, finally fully confident in his act, keeps going, injecting an air of bravado and confidence, almost scoffing at what he’s saying in a poor attempt to cover for himself.

TWITCH
All that...fluid time spectrum...dimensional...stuff...

TWITCH (CONT’D)
I mean, it’s totally ridiculous and ungrounded and...you know...

TWITCH (CONT’D)
It was really good the way you taught it.

TWITCH (SMALL) (CONT’D)
You being a teacher and all.

20/3 MEDIUM CLOSE
Mrs. Henderson looks back down at her desk as she responds.

MRS. HENDERSON
Thank you for the kind words, Lionel, but...

MRS. HENDERSON (CONT’D)
Shouldn’t you be in class right now?

20/4 MEDIUM CLOSE
Twitch awkwardly searches for an answer. Again.

TWITCH
...

TWITCH (SMALL) (CONT’D)
I had to pee.

20/5 MRS. HENDERSON’S POV
Now Twitch has his alibi!

TWITCH
And-and school’s almost done for the day, you now, and-and we had a test, um, in Ms. Eliot’s class.

TWITCH (CONT’D)
Which I finished, you know, ‘cause...

MRS. HENDERSON
Oh, really? And what were you reading in Ms. Eliot’s class?

PAGE 21

21/1 MEDIUM-TWITCH’S POV
On a downward angle, looking at Mrs. Henderson from where Twitch stands beside her desk. This time, Twitch actually has the answer without thinking.

TWITCH
Slaughterhouse Five.

MRS. HENDERSON
Can’t say I’ve read that one.

TWITCH
It’s about time travel.

TWITCH (SMALL) (CONT’D)
Kind of.

21/2 PROFILE TWO-SHOT
Mrs. Henderson looks at Twitch again.

MRS. HENDERSON
Well, you should probably get back to Ms. Eliot’s class, Mr. Ritchie.

MRS. HENDERSON (CONT’D)
I’m sure she misses your engaging wit right now.

TWITCH (SMALL)
Yeah...

21/3 MEDIUM
Mrs. Henderson waits awkwardly and impatiently for Twitch to leave.

MRS. HENDERSON
...

MRS. HENDERSON (CONT’D)
Goodbye, Lionel.

21/4 MEDIUM WIDE
Twitch gets the clue. Finally.

TWITCH
Oh. Right!

TWITCH (CONT’D)
Bye Mrs. Henderson!

MRS. HENDERSON
Have a good weekend, Lionel.

TWITCH
Thanks! You too!

TWITCH (CONT’D)
Hope...you know...hope everything’s well!

MRS. HENDERSON
Thanks, Lionel.

TWITCH
Take care!

MRS. HENDERSON
Goodbye, Lionel.

21/5 MEDIUM CLOSE
Twitch walks towards the door, wearing a proud smile. Mrs. Henderson is clearly visible behind him, waiting for him to leave.

TWITCH
So long!

21/6 INSET
Twitch looks at his watch; the time is 1:50.

TWITCH (SMALL)
Mission accomplished.

PAGE 22

22/1 WIDE
Mrs. Henderson looks back down at her desk and continues correcting papers.

22/2 SAME
Same shot. Mrs. Henderson might move a bit.

22/3 SAME
Same shot. Mrs. Henderson might move a bit more.

22/4 DIFFERENT ANGLE
Mrs. Henderson looks up as the bell rings.

SFX
Bzzzzzzzzzzz

22/5 CLOSE
Focus on Mrs. Henderson’s desk; her hand is all that is seen of her, helping her up out of her chair. It obscures a doctor’s note.

22/6 SAME
With her hand removed, we get a clear shot of the doctor’s note beneath her hand that diagnoses her with breast cancer.

END.

The Future, On Fire

2008-09-02T13:53:00.002-04:00

Speakers from all of the leading universities and think tanks will be there. They’ll be talking about wormholes and quarks and divergent time streams and parallel universes and paradox theories and Star Trek and everyone will cheer and they’ll call it a success and they’ll celebrate, just like this. Beautiful women will parade around in silver vinyl suits, flashing Vulcan signs and flesh but never nipple (they’re not paid that well) and saying things like “Klaatu Barada Nikto” and giggling while they upturn their voluptuous lips and cock their heads a bit to appease the other cocks in the room. Everyone will be home smiling, or reminiscing, or go out drinking and celebrating. Adam Ng will be on his fifth pint of the night, except he’ll be drowning his sorrows, hunched over on a barstool, tapping the glass with his finger whenever he wants a refill. His friends will be paying for most of his drinks and doing tequila shots in honor of the “First Annual Time Travelers’ Convention,” that they had been working for months to put together. The whole thing will have gone off without a hitch.
Or a time traveler.
Right on cue, there will be a bright flash outside—there it is—and I see myself walk into the room about 7 hours earlier, and a lot more sober. I take a drink to keep my mouth shut (and maybe hide my face) and I watch myself look frantically around the room and try to make sense of the situation.
“Fuck,” I hear me whisper to myself, and I laugh because this really is exactly how I remember it. I struggle to keep the beer from coming out my nose and everyone else in the bar turns to look at the guy in the funny metallic costume with racing stripes down the side. I ask the bartender for another drink and watch myself do exactly what I’m going to do.
“I’m late, huh?” I say—the other me says—after a pause. I drink to my own lack of wit.
“Sorry, man. Convention was hours ago,” Jae says again. I don’t actually know his name yet. “Are you looking for someone in particular, or…?”
“Fuck, man! This fuckin’ thing never works!” the other me cries, smacking the device on our wrist as hard as he can. It starts beeping and blinking frantically, and this time I understand why, even if he doesn’t.
“What is that?” asks Jae.
“Tachyon Compression Gauge. It’s, ah—it’s supposed to read and monitor stringent and derivative particles in divergent timelines . Or something like that, I don’t now. You guys are supposed to figure it out. But either way, this thing is going nuts right now, and I have no idea why.”
At this, Adam will lift his head and turn his curious ear towards the conversation.
(He does)
No one will realize that my Tachyon Compression Gauge is picking up on my own presence in the room. Except the bartender, that is. He looks at me when I chortle in my throat, then looks back at our foolishly costumed new guest—me, again—and does a double take back towards me. Fortunately for the structure of timespace, he just shakes his head, confused, and gets back to making drinks.
I then plop down on a stool across from myself at the bar. I turn around quickly, so I don’t notice me because the results would be disaster—two of the same object can never occupy the same space at the same time—and I start to wonder about my decision. Obviously, I turned around, just like this, when I was in his position. Could I have stayed, and just hid my face? Could I have done something else, or nothing? Or was I compelled to do exactly what I did the last time, simply because I had done it already?
How much of my actions or thought processes were pre-determined by the structure of time?
I can’t turn around and face him again, either because I’m too afraid of what might happen, or because I’m simply not allowed to because I didn’t do it last time. It’s funny—I knew everything that would happen to me before, but not now. Not me now, even though I was already here and already went through this same scene.
Of course, while I’m busy having a mild panic attack over the nature of pre-destination paradoxes, the other me will try to convince Jae and Adam and the guys the he is, in fact, a time traveler—just one that apparently can’t time travel on time. They’ll be laughing at the irony as he tries to convince them of the truth. Adam will have a fleeting moment of pride and accomplishment before he submits to the belief that the whole thing is a scam and turn back to his drink. Feeling guilty, I’ll continue to berate him with arbitrary truths about the future that he’ll be convinced I’m just making up as I go along.
And then I’ll tune in again, just in time to watch myself go out the door and try again. Except I trip down the stairs on my way out and twist my ankle. Clumsy fuck. I limp outside, and everyone in the bar sees that bright flash of light again and I’m gone. Adam orders another shot of tequila, absolutely certain that I was just some asshole pulling his chain and rubbing in the fact that his Time Travel convention was an absolute failure.
Only it wasn’t.
I get up from my barstool and limp over to Adam. I pat him on the back and say, “Congratulations” as I hand him my Tachyon Compression Gauge and Distorter. "This is for you. It's what you need, the last piece of the puzzle. Pick it apart. Figure it out. You were going to anyway."
“What the hell is this…” he starts to ask as he looks up at me. He spins his eyes around their sockets as he tries to rationalize my presence. “Didn’t you just go that way…weren’t you not wearing that…how did you…?”
I smile and say, “I told you. I’m from the future.”

Doll

2008-09-01T13:55:00.001-04:00

“I’ve felt prettier,” she said as she curled her synthetic eyelashes—horsehair? vinyl? what was it? the texture was alien, even through her curler—and looked back into the mirror.
“This is what you requested…”
“No, I know, it’s just—I don’t know. It looks right, but I’ve felt prettier, you know?”
“I see.” With that, the surgeon turned his back and walked towards the door. “Well, I’ll leave you alone with it for a bit. Maybe you’ll get used to each other.”
She would have seen the door slam in the mirror if she hadn’t been so focused on the new plastic gloss of her cherub cheeks. The fingertips of her left hand rolled slowly, softly over the faux-porcelain curves of flesh and wiped across the rosy red blush, and when her gaze finally averted from the mirror, it took to her hand where not a trace of make-up could be seen. Looking back in the mirror, there wasn’t the slightest sign of smudging or fading on her second, painted face.
But she couldn’t see her first face, beneath the latex rubber plastic silicone polysomething artificial new one she’d paid quite handsomely for, in permanence, and she never would again.

(at least she knew she’d always be a doll)

Hammer Into Anvil

2008-07-13T23:34:00.003-04:00

Calloused fingers softly traced the cutlass curves of a spine-
"Are ye right t'go to port?" he squawked
as grassy feathers floated like a snowfall overhead,
rising from the noose around his neck.
Meanwhile, my parallel eyes just fell paralyzed
(cold as steel, but stained nonetheless)
towards the wasted metal shavings that laid
waiting on that hard and heavy breast
that once had nourished me and forged
a life but ever since turned stiff and numb.

I'd have told him, "I don't know," right then,
but a weapon is never meant for words.

Sidekicks #2-See No Evil

2008-06-11T21:03:00.005-04:00

PAGE 1

1/1 MEDIUM-TWITCH’S POV-OVER-THE-SHOULDER-INT-TWITCH’S LIVING ROOM, 10 YEARS AGO-NIGHT

Years ago, a young Twitch looks up at John, who sits in an easy chair reading. We do not see John’s face. Young Twitch is covering his right eye with his hand.

CAPTION
Years ago...

TWITCH
John?

TWITCH (CAPTION) (CONT’D)
Grown-ups lie.

1/2 MEDIUM-JOHN’S POV
Looking down on Twitch, we see him covering his right eye. He looks frightened.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
It’s in our best interest when we’re kids, of course.

JOHN
What is it?

TWITCH (CAPTION)
At least that’s what they tell themselves.

1/3 MEDIUM-CLOSE-JOHN’S POV
Twitch looks down at the ground; our angle is still looking down on him, and his eye is still covered with his hand.

TWITCH
It’s my eye. I think there’s something wrong with my eye.

1/4 MEDIUM-CLOSE-JOHN’S POV
Twitch uncovers his eye and looks up, pleading with John. In his eye we can faintly see something reflected in it.

TWITCH
It hurts.

PAGE 2

2/1-WIDE-EXT-SCHOOL CROSSWALK-PRESENT-DAY
Twitch looks away from Walker, trying in vain to find an exit or an excuse to leave or otherwise change the subject.

TWITCH
I don’t-I don’t know what you’re talking about. I should really go, I-

WALKER
Relax. I just want to talk. I’m not going to hurt you or anything.

2/2-MEDIUM-DIFFERENT ANGLE
Twitch turns to walk away from Walker. His right eye twitches. Visually, Twitch is in the foreground, and we see Walker over his shoulder.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
That’s what people who want to hurt you say.

TWITCH (CONT’D)
I really-I’ve got nothing to talk about. I’ll see you tomorrow...

WALKER
Twitch, please...

2/3 MEDIUM-DIFFERENT ANGLE
Twitch continues to walk away.

WALKER
I know what you can do.

2/4-MEDIUM-CLOSE
Twitch turns back around, excitedly but still paranoid. He looks as if he wants to trust Walker, but is just as frightened as he is intrigued by this.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
I don’t even know what I can do.

TWITCH (CONT’D)
Y-you do?

2/5-CLOSE-UP-WALKER’S FACE
A charismatic but scheming smile sneaks across Walker’s face.

WALKER
I want to help you.

PAGE 3

3/1-WIDE-INT-CHURCH-TEN YEARS AGO-NIGHT
A PRIEST squats down beside a young Twitch, who is once again covering his right eye. John and Cate stand behind him with their hands on his shoulders. The Priest gently reaches for Twitch’s hand.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
Well, I mean, I’ve got an idea of what I can do.

PRIEST
Let me see.

3/2-CLOSE-UP
Twitch takes his hand away from his eye while the Priest, barely on panel, examines it.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
An inkling maybe.

PRIEST
When did this start?

TWITCH
I-I don’t know. It just kind of happens.

PRIEST
What does it feel like?

3/3-CLOSE-UP
Zoom in on Twitch’s eye, which reflects a lightning storm in the pupil, with storm clouds spilling out onto the iris.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
“It feels like...like I’m getting hit by this big truck. Only...”

PRIEST (O.S.)(CAPTION)
And what do you see when this happens?

3/4-MEDIUM-INT-WALKER’S BEDROOM-TEN YEARS AGO-NIGHT
Walker holds onto his stuffed lion as he is being molested by his Uncle; this scene should be ambiguous, enough to think that perhaps it’s the Priest molesting a child, or beating a child, or that something else entirely is going on. The image is vague, obscured in shadows; it is difficult to tell what is happening, other than that is something that shouldn’t. This should be the kind of thing where, once the reader gets Walker’s back story, he’ll go back and re-read things and this will make sense then.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
(These things always start out innocently enough.)

UNCLE (SMALL)
Shh...

PAGE 4

4/1 MEDIUM-EXT-SCHOOL YARD-PRESENT-DAY
Walker and Twitch walking together around the football field or school parking lot.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
“...it’s not a truck.”

TWITCH (CONT’D)
It’s the future. I guess.

TWITCH (CAPTION) (CONT’D)
Yep. The future.

TWITCH (CONT’D)
It’s different every time.

TWITCH (CAPTION) (CONT’D)
The future truck.

TWITCH (CONT’D)
Sometimes it’s people I know, and it happens like a minute or two later. Sometimes it’s total strangers and it’s already happened. Most of the time, I can’t even tell.

WALKER
How can you not really tell what you see?

TWITCH (CAPTION)
Vroom vroom.

4/2 MEDIUM CLOSE
Focus on Twitch, with an image superimposed on his twitching right eye. He motions as if he is grasping for words, trying to explain something that he cannot articulate.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
How do you teach a blind man to see?

TWITCH (CONT’D)
It’s-it’s fragments of things. Flashes of scenes, and-It’s not all coherent. Just short clips or bursts.

4/3 MEDIUM CLOSE-TWITCH’S POV
Walker listening curiously and intently to Twitch’s explanation.

TWITCH (O.S.)
It’s kind of like a montage, I guess. Except it hurts a little more.

WALKER
I see...

TWITCH (CAPTION)
You really don’t.

4/4 SAME AS PREVIOUS PANEL
Walker looks down and to the side, hand on his chin, thinking hard.

4/5 MEDIUM CLOSE-TWITCH’S POV, NEW ANGLE
Walker raises his fist and throws it towards Twitch’s face.

PAGE 5

5/1 MEDIUM CLOSE-INT-TWITCH’S LIVING ROOM-TEN YEARS AGO-NIGHT
Recoiling, Twitch holds his face in pain, tears streaming down.

TWITCH
John? What are you...?

5/2 MEDIUM
John lifts his arm up, preparing to deliver another backhand to the young Twitch. He is holding Twitch off-panel with his other arm. It should be clear in John’s face that he is not enjoying this, but simply believes that it’s the only way.

JOHN
I’m sorry...

5/3 WIDE
In the foreground, Cate is on her knees, praying in front of a rosary. Behind her, we see John holding Twitch’s skinny arm in one of his hands, and Twitch falling back; John’s arm is holding him up and preventing him from actually falling over.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
Deliver us, Lord, from every evil, so that sins may be forgiven. We ask you this...

CATE
In the name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit...

SFX
KRACK!

5/4 CLOSE UP
We see Cate’s face, flinching as she crosses herself.

TWITCH (O.S.)
Ah! Stop! Stop! It hurts! It hurts...

SFX
WHAM!

5/5 CLOSE UP
Twitch’s eye is superimposed with a present-day image of Walker winding up to punch him.

PAGE 6

6/1 CLOSE UP
In Twitch’s eye, we see John beating him.

TWITCH (O.S.)
Gah!

6/2 CLOSE UP
Twitch’s eye quickly closes.

6/3 WIDE-EXT-SCHOOL YARD-PRESENT-DAY
Twitch recoils, doubling over and covering his face in fear. Walker stands there, fist still pulled back, dumbfounded by Twitch’s extreme reaction.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
As we forgive those we trespass against us.

WALKER
Whoa.

WALKER (CONT’D)
You alright?

WALKER (CONT’D)
I was just kidding. I wasn’t-I wasn’t going to actually hit you...

6/4 MEDIUM CLOSE
Focus on Twitch, still doubled over, bringing his face out from behind his hand, still very frightened.

TWITCH
Y-you weren’t?

6/5 MEDIUM
Walker gives Twitch his arm and helps him stand back up. He shows genuine concern.

WALKER
No way, man. I just wanted to see how you reacted. If you could see it coming or not.

WALKER (CONT’D)
I wouldn’t just hit you like that.

WALKER (SMALL) (CONT’D)
Well, not unless you deserved it.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
And lead us not into temptation.

PAGE 7

7/1 MEDIUM-DIFFERENT ANGLE
Twitch is standing up by now, trying to collect himself. Walker makes sure he is okay.

WALKER
Which, you know, you don’t. I’m just saying.

WALKER (CONT’D)
You sure you’re alright?

TWITCH
Yeah. I just-I had a little scare, that’s all.

WALKER
So I take it that you didn’t see it coming, then?

7/2 MEDIUM CLOSE
With slitted, horizontal eyes, Twitch glares at Walker. His eye right eye twitches.

TWITCH
...

TWITCH (CONT’D)
No. I didn’t.

7/3 MEDIUM
Realizing that he just screwed up, Walker turns his face away from Twitch. His body retreats a bit.

WALKER
Sorry. Damn. Didn’t mean to freak you out that much.

7/4 MEDIUM-DIFFERENT ANGLE

WALKER
What do you see then?

WALKER (CONT’D)
Like lately, what has it been?

7/5 WIDE
Twitch turns to leave.

TWITCH
I really should get going. I don’t want to be late for dinner. Cate and John are probably worried...

PAGE 8

8/1 MEDIUM
Walker challenges Twitch’s reaction-still charismatic, of course.

WALKER
Dinner? It’s 3:00.

TWITCH (O.S.)
I’ve got a long walk home.

8/2 MEDIUM-WALKER’S POV
With his back turned to Walker, Twitch walks away.

8/3 MEDIUM-DIFFERENT ANGLE
Behind Twitch, Walker rolls his eyes and head in frustration, realizing that he just pushed Twitch away.

WALKER
Twitch, wait.

8/4 MEDIUM-SAME ANGLE
Walker jogs to catch up with Twitch.

WALKER
Twi-Richard. Rich. Hold on. Just-just give me a chance. Please. I’m really sorry about that. Honest.

8/5 MEDIUM
This time, Twitch is in the foreground of the panel, looking very visibly perturbed. Walker stands behind him, pleading.

TWITCH (SMALL)
My name’s not Richard.

WALKER
What?

TWITCH
I said, my name’s not Richard. It’s my last name. Ritchie is my last name.

WALKER
Then what’s your first name?

TWITCH
Lionel.

PAGE 9

9/1 MEDIUM CLOSE
Focus on Walker, who’s face is blank as Twitch’s revelation registers itself in his head.

9/2 MEDIUM CLOSE-SAME ANGLE
Walker is almost double over in laughter.

SFX
Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha!

9/3 MEDIUM
In the foreground, Twitch struggles to contain his anger. Walker is behind him, laughing.

WALKER
Your name is Lionel Ritchie? Haha!

9/4 MEDIUM-SAME ANGLE
Twitch is gone. Walker’s laughter ends abruptly as he notices and realizes what he’s done.

9/5 MEDIUM-SAME ANGLE
Walker stands up, hits himself in the head or otherwise acknowledges his own foolishness.

WALKER
You are such an asshole.

9/6 MEDIUM-SAME ANGLE
Once again, Walker hustles to catch up with Twitch.

WALKER
Twitch-Lionel-please. I didn’t meant it. Honest. I’m sorry.

WALKER (CONT’D)
Also, you know, for the punching fake out.

WALKER (SMALL) (CONT’D)
And for not knowing your name after all these years.

PAGE 10

10/1 MEDIUM-INT-TWITCH’S BEDROOM-TEN YEARS AGO-NIGHT
A door creaks open, letting the only light into the room. Cate, visible in silhouette, slips in.

CATE
Are you awake, dear?

10/2 MEDIUM-CATE’S POV
There is a lump of person--young Twitch--hidden beneath the covers of a child’s bed in the middle of the room; Cate reaches her hand towards the bed.

CATE
Lionel? Sweetie? Are you alright?

TWITCH (O.C.)
*Sniff*...leave me alone *sniff*

10/3 CLOSE-UP
Cate’s hand pulls the sheets away from Twitch.

TWITCH
Don’t touch me!

10/4 MEDIUM
Cate looks back at John, who has come in the door behind her.

10/5 MEDIUM CLOSE
John and Cate at the edge of the bed, showing affection through the covers; Twitch still refuses to come out.

JOHN
Lionel, listen. We did what we had to do to make things better for you.

JOHN (CONT’D)
It was the only way to get the Devil out.

CATE
But he’s gone now, darling. Everything’s going to be alright...

PAGE 11

11/1 WIDE-INT-WALKER’S LIVING ROOM--PRESENT-EVENING
Walker’s father, CARL, sits in a reclining chair, drinking a can of beer. At first glance he immediately calls to mind images of alcoholism and negligence, although he is dressed in khakis and a sweater and could easily just be a middle-class father after work. We see Walker in the background, coming through the kitchen, looking longingly at his father.

CATE (O.S.)
“...everything’s going to be fine.”

11/2 OVER-THE-SHOULDER-WALKER’S POV
From Walker’s Point-of-View, we see him looking at his father in the living room, watching the news.

NEWS REPORTER
...meanwhile, startling developments in the Hoffstein trial reveals new evidence. Police were unable to find fingerprints on what appears to be the murder weapon used by...

11/3 MEDIUM CLOSE
Walker turns away from the living room and hangs his head in shame.

11/4 MEDIUM CLOSE
Finally, something has caught Carl’s attention; though still looking at the TV, his eyes shift focus towards Walker behind.

CARL
Walker?

11/5 SAME AS 11/3
Walker looks up to the ceiling, leaning the door frame that divides the living room and the kitchen.

WALKER
Yeah, Dad.

CARL
Where the hell have you been? It’s nearly 5:30.

WALKER
I was at practice, Dad.

CARL
Practice? On a Wednesday?

TWITCH (CAPTION)
Who protects the parents when their lies have gone too far?

PAGE 12

12/1 WIDE
LISA, Walker’s mother, enters the room. She is dressed well in business attire. Walker is almost off-panel himself.

LISA
Walker, your report card came in today.

LISA (CONT’D)
Ms. Eliot seems to have taken a real liking to you.

WALKER
Yeah.

12/2 DIFFERENT ANGLE
Lisa watches silently as Walker ascends the stairs up to his room.

12/3 WIDE
Lisa stands hear Carl, addressing him with disappointment.

LISA
You know, you shouldn’t be so hard on him.

CARL
Hrm.

12/4 CLOSE UP-INSET
Carl takes a drink of beer.

CARL (SMALL)
It’s not him I’m being hard on.

PAGE 13

13/1 WIDE-INT-HIGH SCHOOL CAFETERIA-PRESENT-DAY
The next day, Twitch is eating lunch alone, reading a thick book. Like any other day.

13/2 WIDE
Walker comes up to the table with his tray of food, wearing his letterman’s jacket.

WALKER
Hey.

WALKER (CONT’D)
Mind if I take a seat?

TWITCH
Sure.

13/3 WIDE
Walker sits down next to Twitch, who is clearly not enthusiastic about it.

WALKER
I wanted to apologize again. For yesterday.

TWITCH
It’s alright.

TWITCH (SMALL) (CONT’D)
Most conversation I’ve had all year.

13/4 WIDE
Twitch continues eating, paying Walker no mind. This is awkward.

PAGE 14

14/1 WIDE
Walker man’s up and finally asks Twitch a question.

WALKER
Listen...

WALKER (CONT’D)
I’ve got a game after school today, but...

WALKER (CONT’D)
I was wondering what you were doing later.

WALKER (CONT’D)
You know, if maybe you wanted to hang out or whatever.

14/2 WIDE
Twitch looks up at Walker, trying to judge his sincerity.

14/3 WIDE
Twitch continues eating food casually, with a slight smile on his face.

TWITCH
Yeah. Okay.

WALKER
Okay.

WALKER (CONT’D)
Okay, cool.

14/4 WIDE
Twitch looks up, smiling; we see his right eye twitch and notice something in it, but it should be difficult for the reader to make out.

TWITCH
Hnh.

WALKER
What? What was it, what do you see?

TWITCH
Heh. Nothing.

PAGE 15

15/1 WIDE
Twitch and Walker eat lunch together in comfortable silence.

15/2 MEDIUM
Walker takes a break from eating and looks up at Twitch.

WALKER
So what kind of stuff are you into? You know, like do you play video games, or whatever. Maybe you’re into-

15/3 MEDIUM
Profile shot of Walker, freezing mid-sentence. His eyes look towards the reader, or to an invisible viewer; he’s been caught.

WALKER
...

WALKER (SMALL) (CONT’D)
Hey, Josie.

15/4 MEDIUM CLOSE-WALKER’S POV
We see Josie, hands her lips, looking down condescendingly, judging Walker and mostly ignoring Twitch beside him.

WALKER (SMALL) (O.S.)
Hey.

WALKER (SMALL) (O.S.) (CONT’D)
Cough.

15/5 MEDIUM CLOSE-WALKER’S POV
Josie turns profile and walks away.

JOSIE
Tt.

PAGE 16/17

16-17/1-SPLASH
Walker’s lacrosse game, in full glory. Across the bottom of the pages are a few panels.

16/1
Walker scores a goal

TWITCH (CAPTION)
“He had discovered a great law of human action, without knowing it--”

16/2
Walker’s teammates congratulate him

17/1
Walker looks up at the bleachers amidst the celebration

17/2
There is an obvious hole in the bleachers where Walker looks. However, Ms. Eliot is seated inconspicuously in the bleachers.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
“--namely, that in order to make a man or a boy covet a thing, it is only necessary to make the thing difficult to obtain.”-Mark Twain

PAGE 18

18/1 MEDIUM-INT-HIGH SCHOOL LOCKER ROOM-EVENING-PROFILE SHOT
Walker is at his locker after the game.

18/2 SAME AS ABOVE
Off-panel, a twisted wet towel smacks Walker in the butt. We see his body at his locker contort. Chris is barely visible past Walker.

SFX
WHACK!

WALKER
Ah!

18/3 MEDIUM WIDE
With the locker open beside him, Walker recovers from the hit, rubbing his backside, while Chris, still armed with the towel, cackles like a hyena. In the top compartment of Walker’s locker, there is a stuffed lion visible, but attention should not be drawn to it.

WALKER
What the hell, dude...

CHRIS
Aw, lighten up, hot shot. You’re the star of the game.

CHRIS (CONT’D)
Figure it’s the least I can do to you for totally showing me up.

18/4 MEDIUM CLOSE-CHRIS’S POV-OVER-THE-SHOULDER
Walker goes back to getting changed after the game while Chris talks to him.

CHRIS
The rest of the guys are headin’ over to the diner in a few. You in?

WALKER
Nah, sorry man. I got plans.

18/5 MEDIUM WIDE
Chris walks away, blowing Walker off.

CHRIS
Alright. Whatever. Later faggot.

TWITCH (CAPTION)(O.S.)
“How did you know?”

PAGE 19

19/1 MEDIUM WIDE-EXT-SCHOOL YARD-EVENING
Chris and Walker sit together, hanging out.

TWITCH
I mean, it’s not like I talk about it or anything.

TWITCH (SMALL) (CONT’D)
Or talk. Period.

WALKER
Yeah, but you’re kind of obvious about it when it happens.

TWITCH
So much for carefully calculated cultural irrelevance...

19/2 MEDIUM-DIFFERENT ANGLE

WALKER
...?

WALKER (CONT’D)
Well when you get all flustered and nervous and shift your chair, it’s hard not to notice.

WALKER (SMALL) (CONT’D)
All the bars on those desks make it hard to cross your legs.

WALKER (REGULAR) (CONT’D)
But most of us have figured out how to control it by now...

WALKER (SMALL) (CONT’D)
or at least how to do the tuck.

19/3 MEDIUM-DIFFERENT ANGLE

TWITCH
How’d you know about my visions then?

WALKER
Pretty much the same thing. You’re not very good at covering up your awkwardness, man.

TWITCH
Yeah...

19/4 MEDIUM-DIFFERENT ANGLE

WALKER
It’s kind of like when you’re falling asleep in class-not you personally, but like, you generally-and you suddenly shoot up in your seat, wide awake in a panic and everyone notices.

WALKER (CONT’D)
But then you’re always just...there. The you you, not the general you.

WALKER (CONT’D)
Like the other day, with Josie. It’s too...

19/5 WIDE-INT-TWITCH’S KITCHEN-EVENING-TEN YEARS AGO-TWITCH’S POV
Around the dinner table, Cate and John question young Twitch.

WALKER (CAPTION) (O.S.)
“...convenient.”

JOHN
Have the headaches stopped yet, Lionel?

TWITCH
...

TWITCH (CONT’D)
Yes. They have.

WALKER (O.S.)(CAPTION)
“But I guess what I’m still wondering is...”

PAGE 20

20/1 MEDIUM-INT-TWITCH’S KITCHEN-EVENING-TEN YEARS AGO
Dinner conversation continues

WALKER (CAPTION)(O.S.)
“...how do you make it happen?”

JOHN
Good.

JOHN (CONT’D)
You know we never meant to hurt you, right?

JOHN (CONT’D)
I want to make sure you understand that...

20/3 MEDIUM-EXT-SCHOOL YARD-EVENING-PRESENT

JOHN (CAPTION) (O.S.)
“...we would never deliberately hurt you.”

TWITCH
That’s the thing-I don’t. It just...it just kind of happens, you know? There’s no rhyme or reason to it. They just come, bam, when they’re least expected.

20/4 MEDIUM-DIFFERENT ANGLE

WALKER
There’s got to be some kind of pattern to it. Like, when you’re stressed, or hunger, or...horny, I don’t know.

TWITCH
No. It’s nothing like that.

TWITCH (CONT’D)
Trust me, I’ve tried to make some sense of it. It’s entirely random.

20/5 MEDIUM-INT-TWITCH’S KITCHEN-EVENING-TEN YEARS AGO-JOHN’S POV
Young Twitch’s right eye twitches, and Cate notices.

TWITCH (CAPTION) (O.S.)
“...The chaotic, twisted humor of the universe.”

CATE
Sweetie...? Are you sure you’re alright? Your eye, it’s-

TWITCH
Yeah. I’m fine.

TWITCH (CONT’D)
Really.

JOHN
Sometimes, after something terrible happens, God leaves a mark on us. A scar to remind us what we’ve been through.

JOHN (CONT’D)
That’s all it is.

20/6 CLOSE UP-INSET
John holds Cate’s hand tight.

PAGE 21

21/1-MEDIUM-EXT-SCHOOL YARD-DAY-PRESENT

WALKER
So you can’t control it, or predict it?

TWITCH
I’ve never really tried. I’ve tried to ignore it more than anything else.

WALKER
Well, then, why don’t you?

21/2 MEDIUM-DIFFERENT ANGLE

TWITCH
Why don’t I what?

WALKER
Try to control it. Learn to use it. Think of all the good you can do.

TWITCH
You’re crazy. I can’t change the future. I can barely get to school on time.

TWITCH (CAPTION) (CONT’D)
There it is again. The Future Truck.

21/3 MEDIUM

WALKER
Just give it a shot.

TWITCH
How?

TWITCH (CAPTION) (CONT’D)
Do you think it’s automatic, or a stick shift?

WALKER
I don’t know...you know more about than I do!

TWITCH
That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Walker. I don’t know anything about it! I can’t control it.

21/4 MEDIUM CLOSE-TWITCH’S POV
Walker contemplates this latest revelation and tries to strategize a new approach.

WALKER (SMALL)
Hrm.

21/5 WIDE
Twitch sits up straight, eyes wide, almost like he’s possessed, snapping Walker out of his thought. Twitch is having another vision.

WALKER
Twitch? Lionel?

TWITCH (CAPTION)
Guess we’ll find out sooner or later.

PAGE 22

SPLASH
Twitch’s face takes up half the page and bleeds into an image of MRS. HENDERSON, an elderly history teacher, sprawled on the floor behind her desk, clearly struggling and in pain and pleading desperately with the reader or an invisible viewer. An inconspicuous analog clock reads 1:47pm

WALKER (CAPTION) (O.S.)
“What is it?”

TWITCH (CAPTION)
Beep Beep. Future truck, coming through.

Credits:
SEE NO EVIL
Created by Paul Cantillon, Thom Dunn, and Dmitry Milkin

Sidekick #1-Time and Time Again

2008-06-09T23:31:00.008-04:00

PAGE 1

1/1 EXT-CITY ALLEYWAY-NIGHT-CLOSE UP
Focus on a pair of eyes (Twitch’s), bloody and swollen.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
“A military operation involves deception. Even though you are competent, appear to be incompetent. Though effective, appear to be ineffective.”

1/2 CU
Pull back slightly to reveal more of twitch’s face, still focused on the eyes; the right eye, however, has twitched a bit.

TWITCH (CAPTION) (CONT’D)
Sun Tzu wrote that in “The Art of War,” the timeless text of wartime strategy. Well, except it was in Chinese. Whatever.

1/3 CU
Pulled back only slightly more.

TWITCH (CAPTION) (CONT’D)
I read it once in eighth grade I think.

PAGE 2/3

FULL SPLASH
TWITCH lays half (maybe even three-quarters) dead in an alley, sprawled across trash and trash cans. He is a feeble bodied boy, about age 16; even if he weren’t beat up, his hair would be messy. His body is scrawny, almost mousy. He might even be thrown in a dumpster. Regardless, he is bruised and bleeding and probably has some visibly broken bones.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
I probably should have paid better attention to that one.

TWITCH (CAPTION) (CONT’D)
Still, this is an improvement. It could be worse than just a broken shoulder.

TWITCH (CAPTION) (CONT’D)
And a broken rib.

TWITCH (CAPTION) (CONT’D)
Two ribs. Ow.

Credits
“Time and Time Again”
Created by Paul Cantillon, Thom Dunn, and Dmitry Milkin

PAGE 4
Four rows of wide panels; 3 and 4 should be adjacent on one line, each one taking up half the page in that row.

4/1 INT.-HIGH SCHOOL HALLWAY-DAY-WIDE SHOT
Twitch is at his locker at school; he is poorly dressed, clearly communicating his social standing. CHRIS, in his letterman’s jacket, knocks Twitch’s books and lunch to the floor while JOSIE, his girlfriend-a cheerleader-looks disgustedly at Twitch. An apple rolls  away

CAPTION
Six Weeks Ago...

CHRIS
Watch where you’re going, Twitch!

JOSIE
Ugh! Creep!

4/2 WIDE
Chris and Josie walk away from Twitch, rejoining their posse across the hall. Chris flips Twitch the  bird behind his back. Amongst their posse of athletes, we get our first glimpse of WALKER, an attractive senior, who looks back towards Twitch with subtle sympathy.

CHRIS
C’mon, babe. You don’t look at him too long.

CHRIS (CONT’D)
You might break out in hives or somethin’.

4/3 MEDIUM
Twitch, defeated, looks towards his book, splattered across the ground. His eye twitches.

4/4 MEDIUM
Twitch bends down and gathers up his belongings. He scoops the apple back into the bag.

4/5 WIDE
From behind, we see Twitch holding his books to chest and looking on longingly down the hall towards Chris.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
Things could be much, much worse.

PAGE 5

5/1 MEDIUM
We see Twitch from the front this time, his right eye twitching.

SFX-LATE BELL
BRRRRRIIING

5/2 MEDIUM
Twitch drops his head.

5/3 WIDE
MS. ELIOT teaching in front of the class, writing “Slaughterhouse Five” on the board.

MS. ELIOT
I hope that everyone read last night. This one’s one of my favorites.

MS. ELIOT (CONT’D)
Plus its going on the midterm.

CHRIS (SMALL)
Ah, shit.

5/4 WIDE
Twitch opens the classroom door slowly and nervously sticks his head in, disrupting the entire class and averting their attention towards him. Students are seated at desks, and the teacher, MS. ELIOT, stands in front of them.

TWITCH
S-s-sorry, I just--um, I dropped my, um-I had-

MS. ELIOT
It’s fine, Twitch. Just take a seat. We’re discussing Chapter 2.

5/5 MEDIUM
Twitch takes his seat. Walker sits to his right.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
Even the teachers call me ‘Twitch.’

MS. ELIOT
Now, when Billy Pilgrim says that, “when a person dies he only appears to die,” that, “All moments, past, present and future, always have existed, always will exist,” what idea is he trying to express?

MS. ELIOT (CONT’D)
Walker?

PAGE 6

6/1 MEDIUM
Walker answers the question; his desk is clear. Twitch’s focus is trained on him and his desk is covered in books and notebooks and pens. He is eating his bagged lunch.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
“Twitchie Ritchie.” Get it?

WALKER
He’s referring to the idea that time is actually the fourth spatial dimension, beyond the three dimensional plane that we’re used to seeing. He makes a comment later on about seeing people like millipedes and viewing time like the Rocky Mountains.

MS. ELIOT (O.S.)
Very good, Walker.

6/2 WIDE
We see the backs of students heads, focused on Ms. Eliot. Walker and Twitch can be seen in the bottom corner of the panel; Walker looks at Twitch and smirks. Twitch turns his head slightly towards Walker.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
‘Cause, ya know, my eye...

CHRIS
That doesn’t even make sense. How can there be more than three dimensions?

MS. ELIOT
Well, clearly you’re not a Tralfamadorian. Just suspend your disbelief, okay?

CHRIS (SMALL)
Trafalma-what?

TWITCH (CAPTION)
...twitches. It’s funny, right?

PAGE 7

7/1 INSET
Twitch’s eye twitches.
The bulk of this page is framed by a giant eye, and the panels take place within the frame.

7/2 EXT-CROSSWALK IN FRONT OF HIGH SCHOOL-DAY-WIDE
Walker starts to cross the street, despite the fact the sign says Do Not Cross.

7/3 INT-DRIVER’S SIDE OF CAR-DAY-WIDE
From behind the driver and through the windshield, we see Walker turning his head around frightened, noticing the car...

7/4 EXT-CROSSWALK IN FRONT OF HIGH SCHOOL-DAY-WIDE
...too late. The car runs into Walker, and we see him roll across the hood and windshield.

7/5 INT-DRIVER’S SIDE OF CAR-DAY-WIDE
Walker rolls across the windshield, shattering it and bloodying it up.

7/6 EXT-CROSSWALK IN FRONT OF HIGH SCHOOL-DAY-WIDE
Walker lays sprawled on the road in a puddle of his own blood.

7/7 WIDE-INT-HIGH SCHOOL CLASSROOM-DAY-CLOSE UP
Separate from and below the large eye spread above, we see Twitch’s eyes, wide in fright.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
Yeah. Effin’ hilarious.

PAGE 8

8/1-WIDE
Twitch looks nervously at Walker beside him, who is listening intently to Ms. Eliot. INSET of Twitch’s eye twitching?

MS. ELIOT
...and this conceit, of course, explores the notion of free will versus pre-destination. If everything that will happen has already happened, or is currently happening, do we have any control over our decisions?

8/2-MEDIUM
Walker feels Twitch looking at him and turns; Twitch quickly and awkwardly looks down and writes in his notebook.

MS. ELIOT (O.S.)
Can we change what has happened, or what will?

8/3-INT-HIGH SCHOOL CAFETERIA-DAY-WIDE
Walker sits alone at a table, eating his lunch and reading a comic book or book.

8/4-5-CLOSE UP
Twitch looks up abruptly, startled; reflected in his right eye, we see Josie laying on the ground, with food spilled all over her and strewn across the floor.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
Most days, I was barely noticed.

PAGE 9

9/1-MEDIUM
Josie, carrying her tray of food, walking confidently.

9/2-MEDIUM
Viewing the scene from behind Twitch, he notices Josie walking and he starts to stand up.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
Ignored.

9/3-MEDIUM
Twitch sets himself up behind Josie, right as she begins to slip and lose her balance.

9/4-MEDIUM
Twitch catches Josie in his arms before she falls.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
Unacknowledged.

9/5-WIDE-OVER THE SHOULDER-TWITCH’S POV
Chris is helping Josie, taking her tray from her; she looks at Twitch in disgust.

9/6-CLOSE UP
Walker looks suspiciously at Twitch after this encounter.

PAGE 10

10/1-INT-TWITCH’S HOME-EVENING-WIDE
Twitch,morose as ever, sits at the dinner table, poking at his food. JOHN, Twitch’s Foster Father, sits next to him, eating. CATE, his Foster Mother, brings the last dish of food to the table. There are extra seats and places at the table left vacant.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
Invisible.

10/2-WIDE-TWITCH’S POV
Cate, John, and Twitch eating dinner; there are religious art and symbols clearly visible on the walls. Over the next few panels, dinner progresses, silently.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
John and Cate are my foster parents. I guess that’s the best thing to call them.

CATE
Bless us, O Lord for these, thy gifts...

10/3-WIDE-DIFFERENT ANGLE

CATE
...which we are about to receive.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
They bring in orphaned children and give them a temporary home, until someone else adopts them.

10/4-WIDE-DIFFERENT ANGLE

TWITCH (CAPTION)
It’s more like a halfway house than an orphanage. Most of the kids get picked up within six months, maybe a year.

CATE
...from Thy bounty. Through Christ our Lord, we pray.

PAGE 11

11/1-CLOSE UP
Religious icons/imagery on the wall.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
Me? I’ve been here my whole life. At least as far back as I can remember.

CATE
Amen.

JOHN
Amen.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
It’s the only home I know.

TWITCH (CONT’D)
Amen.

11/2 WIDE
Dinner; Cate looks up, smiling.

CATE
Well? Should we share the good news?

JOHN
I thought we were going to wait until after dinner, dear.

TWITCH
What good news?

11/3 WIDE-JOHN AND CATE’S POV-OVER-THE-SHOULDER
This should be an isolating shot of Twitch, sitting alone on his side or end of the table.

TWITCH
What good news?

CATE
I’m just too excited, John. I can’t wait.

JOHN
Well, alright.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
As far as they’re concerned, it’s only temporary.

11/4 MEDIUM
More religious iconography.

11/5 MEDIUM
Cate and John look to Twitch.

CATE
Marissa was picked up by a family in Pennsylvania today. They’re a part of the Church network.

JOHN
It was rather sudden, but the family is perfect for her. It’s the kind of home environment she needs right now.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
Sixteen temporary years.

11/6 MEDIUM CLOSE
More religious iconography.

PAGE 12
Twitch’s eye is lightly superimposed on each panel. Initially, it should go almost unnoticed until the final, all-white panel, but after looking up at the previous panels again, readers should be able to identify it in the same position.

12/1-INT-MARISSA’S FOSTER HOME-NIGHT-WIDE
The only source of light comes from a door that opens into an otherwise dark room. Two female figures stand in the doorway-MARISSA, young and attractive with short hair, dressed in ripped jeans, and a black t-shirt adorned with a rainbow, mid-riff cut, and her new FOSTER MOTHER. They should be obscured  in silhouettes, or Marissa’s face should be cut off.

FOSTER MOTHER
And this will be your room. I know it isn’t much, but it’s your own little space.

FOSTER MOTHER (CONT’D)
Feel free to decorate or paint the walls or whatever else you do. They told us you were, ah, “artsy” and “self expressive.”

MARISSA
Right...

12/2 SPLASH
A smoking gun, pointed directly at the reader.

TWITCH  (CAPTION)
Real parents don’t pity you.

12/3 BLACK
A white panel.

SFX
BANG!

PAGE 13

13/1-MEDIUM
John, with a concerned look on his face, addressing Twitch. He and Cate join hands on top of the table in plain sight. She, too, is frightened.

JOHN
Is everything alright?

TWITCH (CAPTION)
Make that three ribs.

13/2-MEDIUM
Recovering from the shock of the gunshot vision, Twitch tries in vain to act calm and casual and pretend like nothing is wrong; he’s clearly still a bit shaken up.

TWITCH
What? Yeah, I’m-I’m fine. Just-I had a-I was going to sneeze, but-I’m fine.

TWITCH (CAPTION) (CONT’D)
Cough.

13/3-MEDIUM
John and Cate exchange a knowing look.

13/4-MEDIUM
John and Cate look back at Twitch.

JOHN
Just making sure.

CATE
We don’t want you to be lonely, dear. We just want you to be happy.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
One broken shoulder, three broken ribs, and what feels like a punctured lung.

13/5-ABOVE
Looking down on the dinner table as the meal continues.

TWITCH
Everything’s fine. Really.

TWITCH (CONT’D)
I think it just went down the wrong pipe.

TWITCH (CAPTION) (CONT’D)
Like I said, things could be a whole lot worse.

13/6-INSET-CLOSE UP
A relief painting of the crucifixion hanging on the wall in the kitchen.

PAGE 14

14/1-EXT-HIGH SCHOOL-DAY
Establishing shot.

14/2-INT-HIGH SCHOOL BASKETBALL COURT-DAY-MEDIUM
Twitch, Chris, Walker, and the other boys play basketball at school.

14/3-MEDIUM
Josie sits on the bleachers, doing her nails.

14/4-MEDIUM
Twitch, decked out  in full protective gym gear and short shorts, stares dumbfounded in Josie’s direction.

14/5-MEDIUM
The basketball hits Twitch in the face, hard enough to knock him over. Motion lines show Twitch falling.

SFX
WHOOOMPH

SFX (CONT’D)
THUD

PAGE 15

SPLASH
Twitch is sprawled out on the ground, bottom of the page, and Chris stands menacingly above him face, looking down and pointing.

CHRIS
Don’t look at my girlfriend ever again, you fucking faggot. You got that?

TWITCH
Unghh...

PAGE 16

16/1-CLOSE UP-WIDE
Black Panel, with words:

WALKER
Are you alright?

16/2-CLOSE UP
Twitch struggles to open his eyes. The right one twitches again.

16/3-MEDIUM
Twitch sits up, and Walker squats beside him.

WALKER
That ball hit you pretty hard.

TWITCH
Good to know. Is that why I can’t feel my face?

16/4-CLOSE UP
Walker grabs Twitch’s arm and helps him to his feet.

WALKER
C’mon. On your feet. We’re down 4 points now, and I’m not losing this one.

TWITCH
I’m not really sure if I can help you with that.

16/5-MEDIUM-TWITCH’S POV
Walker smirks charismatically at Twitch.

WALKER
Don’t worry so much. Just try to see the ball before it comes to you.

PAGE 17

17/1-WIDE
The boys exit the locker room. Most are changed back into normal clothes and have nothing more but a towel around their necks and maybe a few books; Twitch has a huge backpack on. Walker is on the ground tying his shoe.

TWITCH
Hey! Walker!

17/2-MEDIUM-OVER-THE-SHOULDER-TWITCH’S POV
Walker turns to respond to Twitch.

TWITCH
Thanks. You know, for helping me up  and whatever.

WALKER
No problem. Good sportsmanship’s a key part of the game. Chris has yet to fully grasp the concept of teamwork.

TWITCH (SMALL)
He’s got a heck of a right arm, though.

17/3-MEDIUM
Walker puts his hand on Twitch’s shoulder affectionately.

WALKER
Don’t let him get to you. Everyone knows the kid’s a prick.

TWITCH (SMALL)
Well, Josie...

17/4-WIDE
Different Angle

WALKER
Oh, she knows he’s a prick. She doesn’t care.

WALKER (CONT’D)
You finish reading for Ms. Eliot’s class?

TWITCH
Yeah.

17/5-WIDE
Walker starts heading to class, smirking suspiciously. Twitch stands behind him.

WALKER
Good.

17/6-MEDIUM-TWITCH’S POV-OVER-THE-SHOULDER
Twitch looks after Walker, perplexed.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
...

TWITCH (CAPTION) (CONT’D)
And then suddenly, it hits me.

PAGE 18
The left half of the page shows us the right side of Twitch’s face, which, in turn, bleeds into the four panels detailed below.

18/1 WIDE

DETECTIVE DUGGAN reading his denial letter from the state licensure private investigator’s board.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
More of those...visions...

18/2 CLOSE UP
Ms. Eliot conversing in private with Walker in a dark room; it is a bar, but unrecognizable as one. Walker looks remarkably older and different, possibly even unrecognizable.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
I guess that’s what you’d call them. They’re really more of a distraction than anything else.

18/3 WIDE
Marissa and LAUREN, her girlfriend, fight; Marissa in tears, looking over her shoulder as she screams.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
...Usually.

18/4 WIDE

UNCLE, Walker’s Uncle, bleeding on the street; his body is littered with bullet holes as four gang members run away.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
Why can't I see movies before they come out, or tropical islands, or something like that?

18/5 CLOSE UP
Twitch drops to his knees in pain, and spits up blood/vomits.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
Instead, I see things that haven’t happened yet. Or maybe they have. I don’t know.

TWITCH (CAPTION) (CONT’D)
I can’t really describe it. Or, for that matter, control it...

PAGE 19

19/1 CLOSE UP
An analog clock; it has just struck 2:05pm

SFX
BBRRRRRIIIIIIIIING!

19/2 CLOSE UP-INT-HIGH SCHOOL CLASSROOM-DAY
Twitch sits up in his desk, startled, his right eye twitching.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
That is, if it’s something that can be controlled.

MS. ELIOT (O.S.)
Alright, class. Have a nice weekend. We’ll start with chapter five on Monday.

19/3 WIDE
The entire class leap out of their seats and dart for the door, except for Twitch, still recovering from his startling daydreams. Ms. Eliot sits on her desk. Chris affectionately punches Walker on the way out.

MS. ELIOT
Twitch? Is everything alright?

TWITCH
What? Yeah, I’m fine. Drifting off I guess.

MS. ELIOT
I’ve noticed that’s been happening a lot lately.

19/4 MEDIUM
Twitch gets up of his seat and collects his belongings, getting ready to leave.

MS. ELIOT
Are you sure there’s nothing you want to talk about?

TWITCH
Nope. Nothing. Nothing at all.

19/5 MEDIUM
Ms. Eliot looks at Twitch as he leaves the room, clearly concerned. Twitch looks at the ground, his back to her.

TWITCH
I just, you know, I drift. Sometimes.

19/6 MEDIUM
Ms. Eliot, alone in the classroom, still leaning on her desk. She stares curiously and suspiciously after Twitch.

PAGE 20

20/1 WIDE-EXT-HIGH SCHOOL FRONT STEPS-DAY
Students, en masse, run down the steps of the high school.

20/2 WIDE-SAME SHOT
Twitch is the last to leave the school.

20/3 MEDIUM
Students, including Chris, Josie, and Walker, heading towards the cross walk previously seen in Twitch’s flashback.

CHRIS
See you at practice tomorrow?

WALKER
Yeah I’ll be there. You goin’ to Al’s party?

CHRIS
Hell yeah, bro. You?

20/4 CLOSE UP-PULLED SLIGHTLY AWAY
Same perspective as before, looking at Walker’s back, as he walks away towards the crosswalk. He turns his head over his shoulder as he talks back to Chris. We see Walker’s face straight on, and can barely make out a car in the background.

WALKER
Eh, I’m not sure.

20/5 CLOSE UP
Eyes wide with fright, Twitch perks up, and we see the gears turning in his head as he realizes that this is the scene he saw in his vision.

20/6 CLOSE UP
Twitch runs down the rest of the steps to catch Walker

PAGE 21

21/1 MEDIUM
Walker standing in the crosswalk, still looking back to Chris.

WALKER
That scene’s totally dead.

21/2 WIDE-OVER THE SHOULDER-CAR’S POV
A car comes careening towards Walker; the driver is clearly not paying attention, perhaps speaking to the person in the passenger seat.

21/3 MEDIUM-CLOSE
Twitch’s jaw drops and his eyes go wide as he notices the car heading towards Walker off-panel.

TWITCH
Walker!

21/4 MEDIUM-TWO SHOT
The passenger notices Walker, and tries to warn the driver.

PASSENGER
Dude! Look out!

SFX
BEEEEEEEEEEEEP

21/5 CLOSE UP
Walker stares at the car in panic.

WALKER (SMALL)
Aw, sh-

21/6 CLOSE UP-INSET
Twitch’s hand grabs Walker’s shoulder.

WALKER (SMALL)
-it.

PAGE 22

22/1 MEDIUM-WIDE-2/3 PAGE
Twitch and Walker watch from the curb as the car flies by; the passenger yells out the window.

PASSENGER
Watch where you’re goin’, asshole!

22/2 MEDIUM
Twitch, in a flurry of panic-an adrenaline rush-checks with Walker, who looks like he is more riding the excitement and rush of a near-death encounter, though his ass probably hurts a bit.

TWITCH
Are you okay? That guy nearly killed you!

22/3 CLOSE UP
Close up on Walker’s face, smiling victoriously as he rubs the sore spot where he sat down, with Twitch visible over his shoulder.

TWITCH
Walker...? Are you-are you smiling? You’re in shock, you must be in shock, you-

WALKER
How’d you know that was going to happen, huh?

TWITCH
What?

PAGE 23

23/1 WIDE
Walker turns around and faces Twitch.

WALKER
How’d you know that car was going to hit me?

WALKER (CONT’D)
That thing must have been going 50 miles an hour, there’s no way you could have seen it coming and still reached me in time.

WALKER (CONT’D)
So how’d you know it was coming?

TWITCH
It was-you were standing there, and I-I just, I thought that-

23/2 MEDIUM-WALKER’S POV-OVER-THE-SHOULDER
Focus on Twitch.

TWITCH
I...I...

TWITCH (CAPTION) (CONT’D)
Um, well, you see, apparently I have this ability-clairvoyance or something, I don’t know-and I actually saw this whole thing happen in a vision of some sort yesterday. I can’t quite explain it.

23/3 MEDIUM-WALKER’S POV-OVER-THE-SHOULDER
Same shot as the previous panel, Twitch drops his head and looks to the ground.

TWITCH (CAPTION)
Oh. Well. I guess that does. Kind of explain it, I mean. Although it’s really more like-

23/4 MEDIUM-WALKER’S POV-OVER-THE-SHOULDER
Same shot as the previous two, Twitch looks up at Walker again.

TWITCH
Well...I-See, I just-I-

TWITCH (CAPTION) (CONT’D)
No, that sounds about right.

23/5 MEDIUM-PROFILE
Walker puts his hand on Twitch’s shoulder again.

WALKER
We should talk.

CAPTION
To be continued...

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull: A Critique by Thomas P. Dunn

2008-05-25T16:59:00.002-04:00

Aliens? Seriously? ALIENS?!

Fuck you, George Lucas. Fuck you so hard you bleed out your fucking eyeballs and experience the same pain I felt the last 4 times I saw one of your stupid fucking movies.

An excerpt from a film development session:
LUCAS: "Okay, we should have monkeys"
SPIELBERG: "Definitely. What do they do?"
LUCAS: "Fight communists."
SPIELBERG: "Okay, cool. What else?"
LUCAS: "OOH! Moles, In a mole hill."
SPIELBERG: "YES. The mole hill will serve as an allegory for a microcosm of the metaphorical world we've created, and the moles simpleminded innocence reflects our own inherent search for epic narrative arcs that illuminate the human experience."
LUCAS: "PERFECT! What are we missing?"
SPIELBERG: "Hmmm. OH! I know. Giant Bugs!"
LUCAS: "How about ants?"
SPIELBERG: "Ants? I like it. What do the ants do?"
LUCAS: "They eat people alive."
SPIELBERG: "GENIUS. Okay, let's find someone to write a script, and lets make it happen"
LUCAS: "Go team!"
SPIELBERG: "Wait. One more thing."
LUCAS: "What's that?"
SPIELBERG: "Extradimensional aliens that supersede the space-time continuum. Fucking duh, George."
LUCAS: "SHIT! I'm so stupid. I can't believe I didn't come up with that myself!"
SPIELBERG: "It's okay. You created Jar Jar."
LUCAS: "You know, I still don't see where that went wrong..."

For your sake, I have omitted the parts of this conversation that involved blatantly and shamelessly ripping off of Boris and Natasha from "Rocky and Bulwinkle" to avoid putting any real effort into developing the antagonists.

Beacon Brewery Breakdown

2008-04-15T01:18:00.001-04:00

This past Monday, April 7, beer enthusiasts across the United States celebrated the 75th anniversary of the lift of the ban on beer after 13 years of national Prohibition. A full eight months before the end of Prohibition, this change to the U.S. laws was strongly encouraged by President Roosevelt, and highly embraced by the American public.

During the first 24 hours of the legalization in 1933, Americans consumed over 1.5 million barrels of beer, according to The Brewers' Association Web site. In honor of this historical date, breweries and bars nationwide will be holding special events and celebrations. Two of the most well-known breweries in Massachusetts offer free tours and tastings for the over 21 crowd just a few T-stops away.

The Boston Beer Company brews the popular New England staple Samuel Adams beers. Founded in 1984 by Jim Koch, the company has won at least 650 awards worldwide for some of their 17 different beers. The brewery in Jamaica Plain opened in 1988, three years after the Boston Lager debuted in a mere 25 bars in the Boston area.

A quick walk from the Orange Line brings you onto the Boston Beer Company property, where tours of the brewery occur every 30 minutes. The waiting area is full of trophy cases, memorabilia and televisions looping mini-documentaries on the history and merits of Sam Adams.

Before beginning, a $2 donation is requested, with proceeds going to a local charity. A tour guide then shows a six-minute documentary before bringing the group into the brewery, where he passes around plastic cups filled with hops and encourages everyone to taste them. After a walkthrough of the brewing facilities, everyone is carded and led into a room resembling a bar and the tasting finally commences.

The flagship beer of the Boston Beer Company is their Samuel Adams Boston Lager, an example of the popular American lager standard. Although the style is typically associated with nondescript generic beers, like college staple PBR, the quality of Sam Adams Boston Lager is far superior to that of many of its peers. The first thing that comes to your attention is the translucent amber color of the beer-much richer and deeper than any of its mass-produced counterparts.

"You should be able to see your fingers on the other side of the glass," said tour guide Andrew. "If you can't see your fingers through the beer, or if you happen to see fingers in your beer, you should send that beer back right away."

The aroma is pleasant but mild, releasing mostly caramel tones with only a slight infusion of hops. Well-balanced and well-rounded are the best ways to describe this beer-while there is nothing distinct about the brew, it is undeniably satisfying in its subtlety and simplicity. There is little to no aftertaste; while this may be a selling point for some beer drinkers, it is vaguely disappointing for others.

The next sample was Sam Adams' current seasonal offering, the White Ale, sold only in the early springtime and brewed with coriander, orange peel and grains of paradise. This abundance of spices is one of its most distinct qualities. It boasts a light golden yellow body obscured with a whitish cloudiness-wheat beers such as this are often left unfiltered of proteins and yeast, which causes this characteristic haze.

A burst of sweet and fruity flavors first finds the tongue, but its high carbonation teamed with hops keeps it from being overwhelming. Slightly unbalanced, the hops, spices and citrus carry it most of the way, with the malt mostly absent until the end. This tends to be the point of fruity wheat beers such as this. The White Ale is clearly an American imitation of a Belgian style, but unique in its own right.

The final taste was a Bohemian Pilsner, brewed in a limited batch as part of Sam Adams' Beer Lovers contest, and only available on draught at the Boston Brewery. Very light, as with the last two offerings: this pilsner releases a sweet, piney aroma with a bit of citrus, although not nearly as much as the White Ale. It has a very light, translucent yellow color-beer detractors might criticize its likeness to urine.

The first taste is remarkably hoppy, and each consecutive sip follows suit. The malt is only noticeable in the aftertaste, and remains isolated to the tongue while the hops flavor clings to the sides of the mouth. This is a beer for inexperienced beer drinkers who think they like hops, but aren't quite ready to indulge in an IPA.

The Harpoon Brewery, located on the waterfront in the Seaport District, was the first brewery to be issued a permit in Massachusetts to brew and bottle commercial beer in 1987. Realizing that the only reason most people go on brewery tours in the first place is for the free beer, the folks at Harpoon have tastings rather than tours.

During the tasting times, everyone is given a seven-ounce glass that is filled and re-filled by two "bartenders" with whichever of the nine varieties you shout out over the crowd. The bartender who also doubles as a tour guide introduces the beer, serves for twenty minutes, stops to give a more in-depth profile of each type, and then commences another twenty minutes of drinking. There is no limit to how many times you can fill up, and it's a first-come, first-served basis at the bar, so it is up to you to throw them back.

Harpoon's seasonal offering is an Irish-style Red Ale. The Hibernian-after the Romans' name for Ireland-does not give off much of an aroma, but pours a beautiful amber. The flowery tones of hops rule the aftertaste, and it could easily be described as a more distinct, robust and flavorful version of the Sam Adams Lager.

The India Pale Ale came into being when beers from England were infused with extra hops that were intended to act as a natural preservative to help the beer survive the long trip to India. Harpoon's IPA is the most popular in New England, and accounts for 65 percent of their sales, according to the tour guide. The flavor is undeniably hoppy, as IPAs should be, but it is hardly overwhelming; the flowery tones of hops seem to balance out their own bitterness more than the malt does.

Every few months, to break up the monotony of brewing the same beer every day, Harpoon selects an employee-past or present-to brew 100 barrels of anything they'd like. The 100 Barrel Series brews are available only for a limited time, and once the 100 barrels are all gone, these beers become only memories to those that tasted them. The current offering, Steve Stewart's Firth of Forth Ale, is a twist on traditional Scotch Ale made with American ingredients. Its mahogany-amber color gives way to a smoky aroma of hops that is pleasantly light and unobtrusive.

Harpoon recently stumbled upon one last barrel of their previous offering, a Weizenbock, which they were gracious enough to offer to their visitors this time around. Although not traditionally a bock-bocks are usually made using lager yeast, and Harpoon only uses Ale yeast-this dark wheat offering is easily the most unique beer of the trip. A cloudy amber color, much darker than your typical wheat beer has an aroma that screams banana and cloves.

Next to the IPA, Harpoon's most popular beer is a wheat beer, cleverly titled UFO-for UnFiltered Offering. Similar to the Sam Adams White Ale, though without the overabundance of spices, UFO pours a cloudy yellow color. The first flavor is crisp and citrus.

Although the tastes and wallets of the average college student may run closer to Natty Ice and Milwaukee's Best there is no reason that co-eds should option out of the chance to expand their palates when it comes to the sixth and most potable food group.

Berkeley Beacon Lifestyle Section, 4/10/08. Co-written with Kasey Fielding.