The scene opens on a small urban community college campus; all the action is set in a large faculty lounge with furnishings so old they appear 'retro' modern; there is a prominent bench style sofa with dimpled dark orange vinyl covering with stained stainless steel legs and padded armrests; two colleagues who have repaired to this quasi-haven; they vaguely know each other from obligatory campus functions, but not by name. They are smoking jealously, almost like kids in a school bathroom, furtively.
The time is an uneventful Wednesday afternoon, a day reserved for no class instruction.
MAN(40ISH, SINGLE)
Anything...(pregnant pause)the... matter?
WOMAN(40ISH, NO RING)
Looking startled from a seemingly vacant reverie.
Do we know each other?
MAN
Not sure.....you just looked troubled....
WOMAN
(sighs heavily as she speaks)
No, no, just pensive;
(back to normal speech)
you do look familiar....
MAN
( [putting out cigar] )
Me, first year physics, you?......
WOMAN
Oh, sorry, senior economics,....uh, Jane....Jane Meta...
MAN
(awkwardly apologetic, remembers his manners)
Pretty awful, sort of branded by what we...do; it is customary, 'he said, awkwardly', to use one's simple personal identity, away from....this
(motions with his hand toward space)
.....Tauzin...., Jim Tauzin.
They exchange mini-wavelike greetings across the large room, forced frozen smiles---think Nicholson's Joker.
WOMAN
I just got back from an informal reunion of sorts with my old classmates; we met in Woodstock....
MAN
brings back memories....
WOMAN
(laughingly)
You know, I took so much abuse over economics.... 'Fellow Traveller of Predatory Capitalism',....right there, on my name tag!
(pointing to where it was over her heart)
MAN
Cruel....and droll....
WOMAN
No matter......anyway, enough about my silly personal matters.....
MAN
Well, in my little world, 'matter' ....really matters, no matter how insignificant....and, of course, energy....
WOMAN
Freshmen!.....sounds like mostly 'energy' to me....along with some very inert grey matter!
(she sighs & laughs gently)
MAN
Well, as a 'matter' of fact....
(he is self amused)
WOMAN
Hey, my sympathies are yours....at least all I need to do is sell my students one physical law: 'Consumerism Uber Allis'...
MAN
That's all---in this world, anyway, that matters....stuff.... 'matter'!
(smiling)
WOMAN
looking wistfully out the window at space in general.
What must it have been like for people before......
.....you know, all THIS...
She points out the window---toward the audience, surveying material reality with the sweep of her hand, dismissively.
MAN
....between...
(melodramatically stentorian)
'Let there be light'
(back to normal tone)
and say 150 years ago....wow....haven't really thought about this...since my student days, spell that with a 'z'!
WOMAN
Funny, feels like I've been in one, a daze,
(stretch out slow/ponderously)
for about that long....
(snapping back to 'reality')
...you know, 'preverbal', cave-dwelling proto-man....
MAN
let's not forget proto-woman...
WOMAN
Be serious!
MAN
What could be more.....serious, that is;
(dumb, vacant grin, pause)
WOMAN
(clears throat)
You ok?
MAN
Oh, yeah, sorry.....never better; I was just picturing Raquel Welch from that '60's movie wearing the first proto-bikini!
(sighs audibly, then snaps back)
Strange, though, out of all those wonderful drawings, no proto-'Mona Lisa', just four legged beasts, hands, even UFOs, but no women...
WOMAN
Chalk it up.....hey, they did, literally....
(smiling)
to bare necessities, like food...
MAN
Makes you wonder...doesn't it...did they conceive of what we call 'beauty' in terms beyond future meals?
WOMAN
Still, must have fully sensed living, moment to moment...what we call being in the NOW...
MAN
(suddenly, he finds himself finishing her sentence, somehow now sharing her trance or spell)
Yet we seem to spend most of our time and energy on past and future.
WOMAN
Memories....and plans; who was it, Lennon, said: 'Life's what happens when you're busy making.....them'?
MAN
Hey, your old Woodstock pals would back off now if they heard that!
WOMAN
(preoccupied)
And, yet, doesn't your field give us moderns some cold comfort, what with matter being incapable of destruction, right?
MAN
Don't know about comfort, but, yes, it's just 'transformed', into energy, then maybe other matter, again...unless it encounters 'antimatter'...
WOMAN
And just how likely is....that?!
(the layman alarmed)
MAN
(consoling, poorly)
Well, it's largely theoretical....
WOMAN
So, we're far more likely to be hit by ....a bus....
MAN
(he grows animated)
Well, to scale, sure....this expanding Universe is a big pool of time and space, although...
WOMAN
(sarcastic)
Are we gonna need Feynman diagrams?!
MAN:
( (surprised by her knowledge)
Not exactly......it's just that we don't actually know what, say, 90+% of the Universe contains....what we call 'dark matter'....
(squinting, pensively)
..or, how visible matter formed in the first place, like galaxies....
WOMAN
Are you teaching astrophysics or 'Star Wars'?!
MAN
(nerdy energy/entusiasm)
See, that's not as sarcastic as you think----------call it 'the force', or 'aether', which many geniuses as late as the early 20th century called it-----we just don't know.
WOMAN
( (sympathetically)
Much like the stock market, then, you don't really know what some solid citizen white collars will do...till it's done!
MAN
Well, to scale....but that's kind of immaterial.....
(cut off)
WOMAN
(entranced)
She's on a roll, leaving him in her Meta-physical dust.
Isn't the human psyche like a mini-Universe, and you can't predict when it will meet ITS anti-matter, its unknowns?
MAN
Wow, hadn't looked at it that way......good thing I'm not invested....
WOMAN
Hey, they run banks, too!
MAN
(she's got him questioning his old materialist worldview)
So, what you're suggesting.....is....that life's a crap shoot?
WOMAN
Don't look at me, just look up 'existential dread'----Kierkergaard, Sartre: 'man's helplessness in an ever more complex world, where chaos lives within order', right?
MAN
(trying to recover his former certitude)
Antimatter.....it's part of nature, the Universe, regardless of probability and, AND, in a complex dynamical system......
WOMAN
'You never step in the same river twice'........am I warm?
MAN
Tell me something, know of any comfortable caves.......
WOMAN
Who knows....it's mind over matter...besides, it doesn't...
(now louder)
matter!
They get up, leave, leaving their briefcases behind. Key: Spotlight on these old 'hats'.
Music up: 'Thus Spake Zarathustra'/Strauss.
This message has been edited by AngrySponge on May 23, 2005 1:43 PM
"David W Womble" <dwomble@digitecinteractive.com> Add to Address Book
Subject: Congrats
Date: Fri, 13 May 2005 09:49:46 -0400
To: "joseph pravda" <jbpravda@yahoo.com>
Hi J.B.,
I just wanted to let you know that your play "Antimatter" has been
selected for this year's Summer Shorts. We are planning a workshop of
it at the Casselberry Library this Sunday at 1p.m.
Thanks,
David Womble
Reading Committee Chairperson
Playwrights' Round Table
A MAN OF FEW WORDS BY J.B. PRAVDA (C)
INT. MODERNISTIC COURTROOM, THE HAGUE-DAY
In, with his counselors, slowly walks the defendant, first to stand at the Bar of the newly formed International Tribunal for Indirect & Obscure Violations of Human Decorum & Dignity, a/k/a The High Court of Low Lifes, the press' nickname.
BAILIFF
(in four languages, including Esperanza)
Oyez, oyez, let all here assembled know that this Honorable Court, under the aegis of the United Nations, is now in session; all parties draw nigh, and be heard!
CHIEF MAGISTRATE
(looking at the pitiful fellow)
Advocate Johannsen, is your client ready to proceed?
JOHANNSEN
Your Lordship, as you can see, Herr Doktor Schmidt is infirmed, and quite up in years....
CHIEF MAGISTRATE
Yes, yes, so am I, but I have managed to be punctual;
(gavels into session)
Let the charges be read unto one and all.
JOHANNSEN
Lordship, we waive any such reading.
CHIEF MAGISTRATE
Not in this body, sir; as you are aware, our jurisdiction is such that openness and candor are be always at hand.
CLERK OF THE COURT
Hangbender Schmidt, of Austria, and former principal choreographer of the Chancellory Chorus, and protocol attache to the Wehrmacht, etc.& etc., You stand accused, by sealed documentary charges of the following crimes:....
JOHANNSEN
I object! A sealed set of charges when you have just announced the candor of this Court!
PROSECUTOR
Come, come, my dear fellow; Your Honor, surely the Clerk refers to the official seal of the Court!
CHIEF MAGISTRATE
Gentlemen, decorum, if you please; let me remind you both that Herr Schmidt seems to be the only civilized participant here today!
The judge and the accused lock eyes, bowing heads mutually as a sign of respect.
PROSECUTOR
Yes, of course.....
(embarrassed, sitting down)
CHIEF MAGISTRATE
Herr, Schmidt, may we get you anything, some water perhaps, this may take longer than expected.
(leering at counsel)
HERR DR. H. SCHMIDT
Nine, nine......you are most kind, sir; your reputation precedes you, albeit inadequately.
(in broken English)
CHIEF MAGISTRATE
Very well, Madame Clerk.
CLERK OF THE COURT
.....and, Charge 13: on or about April, 1938, at 4:33pm, Greewich Mean Time, the accused was observed by credible eyewitnesses, to have rehearsed the theretofore unknown practice of 'goose stepping' by elite troops of the Wehrmacht."
CHIEF MAGISTRATE
How does the accused plead?
JOHANNSEN
Your honor, may it please the Court, Herr Doktor Schmidt wishes to enter his plea, in his own way, and by himself.
CHIEF MAGISTRATE
This is highly irregular, but, given his conduct and overall health and demeanor, he may proceed.
The accused is very frail, and takes forever to rise and takes time for the smallest details, all the while smiling politely and contritely, including straightening his tie, then his jacket, then positioning is spectacles just so, only after a thorough cleaning of them with his pocket handkerchief, which is then neatly refolded: think Tim Conway from the Carol Burnett skit 'Mrs. Wiggins'.
CHIEF MAGISTRATE (cont'd)
Mr. Johannsen, I really must insist, please, if you would prompt your client....
JOHANNSEN
Yes, yessir, as quickly as possible, understanding that my client is one who, as you now know, prides himself on proper mannerisms....
(he exhorts client)
Herr Doktor, if you please....
CHIEF MAGISTRATE
Really, gentlemen....
PROSECUTOR
Yes, your honor, this is just too much to bear....perhaps we will need to give him a hand!
(motions to bailiff)
CHIEF MAGISTRATE
Sir, this is still my courtroom, if you please; now, Herr Schmidt....
(motions with hand to go on)
HERR DR. H. SCHMIDT
Ach, thank you, your honor, for all your kind consideration; however, in light of ze charges.....I must, how do you say, object, in particular to ze last one....I cannot find the words.....
(gasping)
CHIEF MAGISTRATE
Take a minute, if you need to.
(self-satisfied)
HERR DR. H. SCHMIDT
Yes, I am now ready, I sink.......and as zis is an international court, I want to be plainly understood e-v-e-r-y-where: ZERE!!!!
The accused has just gesticulated toward the bench with his middle finger.
PROSECUTOR
Your honor, this is an utter outrage! I demand that defense counsel enter a verbal plea at once!
JOHANNSEN
Very well, er, my client wishes the record to reflect: 'UP YOURS!'
CHIEF MAGISTRATE
Very well, Herr Doktor; I'm sure you'll appreciate my sympathetic gesture:find him a 'His & Herr' bunk...where all appropriate liberties will be observed, in keeping with your titles, Herr Doktor! Court adjourned.
BLONDE DEAD WITH BONGOS BY J.B. PRAVDA(C)
INT. MANHATTAN FLAT NEAR U.N.-EARLY A.M.
An unseen reader peruses the newspaper, New York Herald Tribune, on November 23, 1960.......he sits back to audience in easy chair, which becomes her bedroom chair in the next cut, only he's not in it when the lights come back up for the segue scene.....zeitgeist: this is a costume ball thrown by an absentee host with the most....juice, 'THE Director' ,the only name he needs, and he's hired James Ellroy to set its noir thematics!
TWO HANDS, ONE WITH A GARRISH PINKY RING, HOLD THE PAPER AS SPOTLIGHT FOCUSES IN ON A SMALL COLUMN INCH BLURB: 'BLONDE, DEAD, WITH BONGOS'.....
V.O.
'November 23, 1960:Blonde Dead, With Bongoes'...
Jesus, can't these freakin cub reporters get jack right.....she was a drug store blonde; and those bongos, they ain't got a clue.....Christ, I loved her.....bongos!
(laughs)
FADE OUT AND IN TO PITCHBLACK THEN WHITE, SEGUE TO NEXT MINUTE:
INT. MANHATTAN FLAT NEAR U.N.-DAY
The police have responded to a homicide call; a beautiful newswoman has been slain, dumped outside her apartment. Same room, with same chair just seen.
SPOTLIGHT: WE SEE A SIMILAR PAIR OF HANDS, WITH THE DISTINCT PINKY RING, TO THOSE SHOWN IN THE OPENING SHOT, FADED INTO, HOLDING AN ORNATE BONGO DRUM.
DETECTIVE HANRATTY
Nice pair a........drums......
(smirking sarcasm)
OFFICER DULLES
Jesus, Frank, that's the broad been hustlin Kennedy bout Castro!
DETECTIVE HANRATTY
Get the fuck outta here; Jesus, the golden boy with the Midas touch hisself.....
OFFICER DULLES
Yeah, kinda touch can make ya dead.
DETECTIVE HANRATTY
What the Hell ya talkin about?
OFFICER DULLES
Simple, sometimes too much of a good thing ain't a good thing: ole Midas' food turned ta gold.....
DETECTIVE HANRATTY
(contrite)
Christ, what a waste, huh? Like you said, maybe she got too close, had a little too much to handle, sure Midas Jack did: whaddya say bout eatin gold?! She shoulda stuck ta soaps---woulda been some script!
(male macho laughter)
FLASHBACK.
INT. TV STUDIO MANHATTAN-DAY
The soap opera rehearsal is in swing; a pretty blonde newcomer is distracted. It is 1959. Stage becomes a simple studio, using the actual theatre lights as props; no need for TV camera, audience is the camera.
PEGGY GUGGENHEIM
Can we take five?
DIRECTOR
Sure.....but please be back in five, the 1959 season ain't gettin any younger.
She goes to a nearby phone; places a phone call to her agent.
PEGGY GUGGENHEIM
Hello, Bill, have you heard anything?
(anxious pause smiling)
You're not joking?! Oh, thanks, Bill, thanks.....uh, when do I start?
(pause)
And I won't have to do any bomb shelter commercials?
(laughs)
Fabulous; Bill, you're a genius! Bye now.
She returns to the set, beaming.
DIRECTOR
Thanks for being punctual; shall we begin?
PEGGY GUGGENHEIM
Afraid it's more of an ending, at least here; look, I've loved working with you, but I need more.
DIRECTOR
More what, dialogue?
PEGGY GUGGENHEIM
Yes, just not here.....
DIRECTOR
Honey, be reasonable, this is prime studio space.
PEGGY GUGGENHEIM
I'm going into journalism.
DIRECTOR
(miffed)
Well, you can start by writing your own obituary in this racket!
(storms off)
CUT TO:
INT. NEW YORK NETWORK STUDIOS OF WBC-EVE
Peggy is busy preparing for her first major story: Fidel Castro's triumphal visit to NY and the U.N. in 1960, where he is busy charming the world. Same set, with a desk and mike.
PEGGY GUGGENHEIM
Good evening, ladies and gentlemen; tonight I have the honor and privilege of announcing that this reporter will interview the new Cuban President, Fidel Castro, live on this channel, so please stay tuned for exact time or check your newspaper; in other news tonight....
CUT TO LATER THAT NIGHT.
INT. LOBBY OF HARLEM HOTEL-NIGHT
She stands out more than usual, think Grace Kelly in dark glasses. She is at the front desk.
PEGGY GUGGENHEIM
Yes, that's right, he's expecting me....Peggy Guggenheim.
She is oblivious to the man following her, the man with the garrish pinky ring, who enters an old fashioned indoor phone booth; he dials, we don't hear him. A Cuban security type in fatigues approaches her, and they enter a door marked Private behind the front desk.
END OF SCENE
INT. MANHATTAN FLAT NEAR U.N.-DAY
A friend in the State Department has come to town on UN business; he is having cocktails with her at her flat. It is a day or two later.
DOUGLAS ADDAMS
All I'm saying is that you've got to be more cautious; don't you know this town's crawling with agents?
PEGGY GUGGENHEIM
Yes, I know Hoover's obsessed with the color pink....
(demure smile)
DOUGLAS ADDAMS
Forgive me for saying so, but...well....I'm sure you know it has nothing to do with....er....
PEGGY GUGGENHEIM
Sex?
(smiles at his discomfiture)
Look, you always hate the thing you ....hate, right?
DOUGLAS ADDAMS
Be serious; ok, you're sophisticated, or so you think....these people are deadly serious and I know you know, they've a file on you.
PEGGY GUGGENHEIM
Good, it'll keep them busy while I do some meaningful work. Doug, this Castro, he's the real thing, believe me,I know men, and he's....
DOUGLAS ADDAMS
Dangerous....yes, dangerous. Especially since you're a socialist....now don't bother to...
PEGGY GUGGENHEIM
I'm an open book; let them play their games, this is America...
DOUGLAS ADDAMS
You know the rule: if it looks too good....
PEGGY GUGGENHEIM
Who said anything about looks----frankly, I find the beard repulsive, it's his mind.
DOUGLAS ADDAMS
Except for the part about the beard, isn't that supposed to be HIS line, to bed you? Say, that's it---using you as the 'red bait!' You're gonna expose him as a...Commie..
(self-amused)
Unaware he may have hit the bullseye, he spies a new nick-nack on her shelf.
DOUGLAS ADDAMS (cont'd)
Say, a gift from his excellency?
She gives him a deadly look, and remains mutely smirking.
DOUGLAS ADDAMS (cont'd)
(sensing she wants to talk shop)
When's the interview?
PEGGY GUGGENHEIM
The 24th, day after tomorrow. Why?
DOUGLAS ADDAMS
Oh, nothing, something about the whole world watching.
CUT TO LATER THAT NIGHT.
INT. MANHATTAN FLAT NEAR U.N.-EVE
We are back to the cops and coroner show in the very same room, same characters as at the outset.
CORONER
Anybody want the hairs on the back of their neck to get some overtime? She's a he, maybe workin for Edgah, who knows! From the looks of her bruises, looks like somebody--could be with a Latin temper, mebee--- tried ta put it to her and met up with one-eyed Jack!
A G-man enters, flashing badge, we see his pinky ring.
G-MAN
Whada we got?
DETECTIVE HANRATTY
(sitting in easy chair, playing bongoes)
Welcome to the new front-hair!
(points to 'her/his'crotch)
CORONER
Just one thing I wanna know: ya think your boss was....jealous, you know, his 'boy' bein a bit too cute? Ya gonna pin it on Castro...?
G-man smirks, nervously. Bongo music getting louder and louder to right crescendo, then single hard tap, right after G-man's next line.
G-MAN
No comment.
Beatnik music up. FADE to Black.
DO OVER(C)
BY J.B. PRAVDA
EXT. BASEBALL FIELD-DAY
This is a dream-like recollection of a childhood rite, the 'do over' rule being invoked for a missed opportunity....the ball goes right through his legs, causing a run to score.
JOEY
Hey, I wasn't ready, c'mon, do over!
The boys begin to laugh and tease. Joey throws down his glove, and walks off the field.....
FADE IN:
INT. EXECUTIVE OFFICE-EVE
Joey Pollock is sitting at his desk, staring at his computer screen; he has just lost a small fortune in a hedge fund which has gone bust.
JOEY
(to himself)
Story of my life......do over, right! Why the Hell didn't I bet on my screwing up?!
V.O.
Why do you always assume.....things would have been better.....
He is startled as no one is there, it is after business hours.
JOEY
Who's there?
(nervous laugh)
Nobody....namely, me.
V.O.
Far from no one, Mr. Pollock. The only absence in this room is, well, your answer to the question--who's there?--although some might deem it rhetorical, which it is, as well.
JOEY
Question.......you mean......wait a second, where are.....you?
MR. HERMES
Right here, Mr. P.
Mr. Hermes is sitting comfortably in a wingback chair, right in front of Pollock, unruffled, very elegantly dressed, think Claude Raines. Pollock is speechless and dumbfounded.
MR. HERMES
The answer, hmm?
JOEY
What the Hell was the question?! Oh, wait a minute, I know, where the Hell did you come fr......
(flustered)
MR. HERMES
'Do over', Mr. Pollock, that it......alright: why is it that you assume it would have been better if your 'choices', as you would call them, did not lead to seemingly unpleasant results?
JOEY
Unpleasant.........how about disastrous, I just lost $75 k!
Hermes produces $75k from his jacket pocket, in large crisp bills.
WE SEE THE BILLS, AND POLLOCK EXAMINING THEM, TESTING THEM FOR COUNTERFEIT; HIS BODY LANGUAGE SHOWS THEM GENUINE.
MR. HERMES
There it is, Mr. P, all of it; are you willing to wager this sum against my ability to prove I'm right.
JOEY
(staring at money)
Right about what......
MR. HERMES
Why, your being wrong.
JOEY
(into it)
Wanna double it if I'm right?
MR. HERMES
(playful)
Right about what?
JOEY
That I've lost my mind along with the money.
MR. HERMES
Now, that's the spirit; but, I'm afraid if you're right then there's nothing to double, right?
JOEY
Didn't I meet you in Vegas that weekend......
(cut off)
MR. HERMES
You mean the time you lost a lot of money and swore never again?
JOEY
Ah, I knew it, you're a shill for the house; well, it's no use, I'm busted.
MR. HERMES
Mr. P, you seem to have missed the, how do you call it, 'big picture', shall we say.
MR. HERMES DISAPPEARS AND REAPPEARS BEHIND POLLOCK INSTANTLY.
JOEY
How the.....
MR. HERMES
(taps him on shoulder)
How, indeed, Mr. Pollock........now, although Las Vegas is one of my haunts, I can assure you that one of my stature is hardly a shill for the sake of anything as mundane as a casino or mere money.
JOEY
(convinced)
Let's just say I'm not betting against you, even if I am dreaming.
MR. HERMES
(shakespearean)
'I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was.'
JOEY
Just who....what are you?
MR. HERMES
Mr. P, I've just told you....but do not despair----'the eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was'.
JOEY
Just great......riddles; hey, no problemo, right, life's just a riddle, huh?!
MR. HERMES
Keen insight, keen, indeed; you're getting into the right frame of mind; shall I, we, begin to paint upon the canvas stretched out within that frame, Mr. Pollock?
JOEY
So now life's a painting....well, you argue my case: once the paint dries, that's it; ya choose the stroke, and there it is, permanent, nothing you can do.
MR. HERMES
Allow me to point out that virtually all the great masterpieces regarded as such by your critics show 'mistakes' covered over by that last brush stroke.
JOEY
Yeah, heard of that, somewhere......
(pensive)
MR. HERMES
Care to....step into a painting, Mr. P?
JOEY
Hey, what've I got to lose: my sanity's already in hock.
MR. HERMES
Good, then you won't carry on so cynically from now on----your brain's just a slave to what it 'thinks' it sees.
JOEY
And you're the master?!
MR. HERMES
Why, no, that's your little slave speaking just now----no, you're the master.
JOEY
You win.......lead on.
(takes Hermes' hand)
They travel somehow to the closed city museum of art, finding themselves in the dimly lit gallery of huge paintings of history.
MR. HERMES
Ah, one of my favorites!
JOEY
Some kinda king, right?
MR. HERMES
No ordinary king, my friend; this is King Midas.
JOEY
Yeah, sure, but, uh, why's he so, you know, depressed, there's gold all around him?!
MR. HERMES
Remember the deal: EVERYTHING he touched.....
(waits for light bulb)
JOEY
Wait, he starved to...death, didn't he?!
MR. HERMES
And, now you know where that sage advice about careful wishing comes from, eh?
JOEY
So, I think I get it, back at the office and all: I keep winning at Wall Street craps and, well, something starves....in me, my family, right?
MR. HERMES
Ah, I can see we can cut this whole thing short, no need for any Dickens ghosts, eh, Ebeneezer?! Shall we return?
(laughs)
Joey nods enthusiastically, and they're back in his office; he spies the 75k still on his desk.
JOEY
Guess I gotta give this....back.
MR. HERMES
Why, it's yours, isn't it?
JOEY
Actually, no......it's in my hands, but, no, I can't exactly eat it now can I.
(smiles blushing)
MR. HERMES
May I suggest a name for your little foundation's seed capital?
JOEY
T...h....a...t won't be necessary: I just saw the first newsletter headline: 'Midas Fund Feeds Many'.
Hermes has vanished; no trace of him, poof.
JOEY
Where'd ya go!?
HERMES (O.S.)
Why, back into my painting........Mr. P......
JOEY
Yeah, you change your mind about...the money?
HERMES
Mr. P., you can't 'do over' a 'do over', it's just not.....done! But there is one thing----make your painting a master's piece!
JOEY
Hey, no problemo, my brain...I mean my brush is just a slave, right?
Curtain comes down, with picture of a blank picture frame 'framing' Joey.
INT. UPSCALE HOME SITTING ROOM-EVE
A wealthy, somewhat sated middle-aged well-educated couple sits in their 'drawing room'---their decorator has persuaded them to use the 'proper' terminology of the well-bred---their well-planned lives include an only child to whom neither particularly is attached, albeit the child has become a pawn in the ennui of a relationship which is more banal brochure than genuine.
FATHER
Another tooth....what is this, the 2nd or 3rd .....
(sardonic, extreme)
God, I'm glad we planned so well, to savor these little....moments.
MOTHER
(disgusted)
It's the first; you're thinking of your niece---so typical.
FATHER
Oh, well, I suppose you're right: it just seems that she's so alive you can't not remember the smallest thing about...her.
MOTHER
And, our child is somehow less 'lively', that about it!?
FATHER
Do we have to go through this too well-rehearsed little scene, again? Look, ours is perfectly....fine, Ok?
(attempted misdirection)
Did you put the money under the pillow?
MOTHER
I thought you did....
FATHER
Great: I'll go in and get the bloody little tooth---got any change?
MOTHER
Typical! Leave a couple of dollars, alright?!
He goes off stage; she is fuming visibly, shielding her eyes as if from a bright light; 30 seconds pass, then he rushes back on stage.
FATHER
The tooth----it's all moist and sticky; the sheets'll be ruined; didn't you think to put it in a baggie or something?!
(disgusted)
I've gotta go wash my hands.
He goes offstage again. She is also offstage, in the child's room.
MOTHER (O.S.)
(shrieking)
Ahhhhhhhhhh!! Sweet God!
(weeping)
Didn't you see the marks on his arms?!
She has run on stage, followed by him from the bathroom.
FATHER
Damned cat, but how...didn't he wake up?!
MOTHER
(looks at him suspiciously)
This is no cat's doing.....! What..what happened yesterday, at the park!?
FATHER
(guilty sounding)
Don't be ridiculous.......we were in a hurry, and he fell, that's all; anyway, it was his leg, dammit.
MOTHER
H U R R Y!? Oh, it's such a chore for you---late for a conference call?!
FATHER
Look, I'm going to bed; it's probably a bug or something, ok?
He leaves the stage, just then the child screams and they both run off to his room. They return to stage with a strange piece of paper in her hands.
FATHER (CONT'D)
I don't get it: he's fast asleep, in the same exact position as before.
MOTHER
A....bad dream, I suppose...
(suspicious)
Where were you, just then?
FATHER
With you, you ditz!
MOTHER
Before that, you bastard!
FATHER
In the bath,remember:
(pissed)
Just what are you suggesting?!
MOTHER
(looks that kill;then looks at paper)
Look...at this, it's parchment or something!
FATHER
Real sheepskin.....it looks like Latin, for payment, 'solutio'...
MOTHER
But, it says more, 'cupide', like greedy for it...
(pensive)
This writing, it's like with a quill, scratchy, like it was done quickly...
(freaked)
Recently!
The writing's still...damp....!
You....you and your enemies!
(looks again at the paper)
Look, look.....'nympha', fairy!!! Did...did you leave the money?!
(in a seeming daze)
The safe, you've got thousands in there, p-l-e-a-s-e, God....
(crying/screaming simultaneously)
FATHER
Now you've really lost it...!
(looks at paper again)
Is this your idea of some sick payback joke!? Well, now you've gone too far.....and I'm not buying it, you hear me....I am sick and tired of your innuendos about him being the proverbial stepchild, and, now, this....really, it's just the end, the absolute end, of everything!
(storms off)
He continues venting, from offstage,
FATHER O.S.
I've got a crucial meeting early in the morning, and you think you can spoil it; well, you're wrong....good night!
(slams door)
MOTHER
(muttering to herself)
I....I must sleep with him, to protect him......nothing can harm him if I.......I'm so sorry, my sweetheart......
She walks offstage to child's room, we hear a door close. End of Scene One.
Scene Two.
INT. UPSCALE HOME SITTING ROOM-NEXT MORNING
We find the mother sitting in her nightgown, hair dissheveled, makeup running from too many tears; she is sobbing into the phone. Sound of a shower running offstage in bathroom.
MOTHER
Yes, yes......I mean no, there are no signs of struggle, just blood everywhere.......
(breaks down)
Alright, I'll....try.......yes, you must send someone, you see, I can't wake up my child; he was fine last night, just....tired, he's losing his teeth, you see, and.......no, my husband would never......no, he's his stepson....why?......okay, I understand, but, well, he did get a little short with him at times....but, no, he never hit him....yes, the blood, it's all over the bathroom wall, there's something written, I can't make it out......it looks like....Latin.....no, Latin, not Latino, I told you, I didn't see anything, or hear.....wait, the note.....the note....in Latin......
The police and EMS arrive, finding her; she drops the phone, and is escorted to her bedroom offstage, hysterical. End of Scene Two.
INTENTIONALLY LEFT BLANK
Scene Three.
INT. UPSCALE HOME SITTING ROOM-DAY
The authorities are speaking to each other about forensics.
POLICE DETECTIVE
Damndest thing I've seen in, well, 20 years......got anything on that paper?
FORENSICS WOMAN
It's parchment, alright; ripped from one of the husband's Ivy League degrees on the wall, right next to the safe; the ink, well, gonna need the lab on that.
POLICE DETECTIVE
You think she wrote it?
FORENSICS WOMAN
Possible, maybe even probable, given their history according to the neighbors......just can't figure how they didn't hear anything....
(puzzled)
POLICE DETECTIVE
The kid?
FORENSICS WOMAN
One for the coroner, but my guess is he died of absolute terror, some kind of traumatic shock, too much for his age to handle---he saw something, something horrible, maybe them struggling, dunno, no physical evidence, I mean zip; no apparent signs of physical trauma, but it could be internal injuries, but, from what? The arms only show insect bites forming a rough outline, but definitely not intentional. I've got one for you, though: what the Hell happened in that bathroom----none of his personal effects are gone, none, the wife says there are no clothes missing, not even a sock from his neat, cavernous closet.
POLICE DETECTIVE
Seen it before; your guy says its definitely his blood according to his doctor's records......no, looks to me like some kinda scam, maybe not insurance, but, my guess is he staged the thing, bought some clothes ahead of time, had some offshore stash and, poof, he does a Rhett Butler--cheaper for him than divorce.
End of Scene Two.
Scene Three.
INT. SANTIARIUM-DAY
It is years later; the mother of the dead child and presumed dead husband is watching blankly a TV with other committees; a news flash comes on.
TV ANNOUNCER (V.O.)
According to police, the woman called 911 when she found her dead child in his bed and her husband vanished, the shower still running......police have not released the names of the family members for privacy reasons, but did reveal that blood was found both on the boy's pillow---- apparently he had lost a tooth or two to the tooth fairy----and in the bathroom where the father had been....this case is eerily similar to one some seven years ago, a case that remains unsolved to this day; more details as they become available.....
MOTHER
She slowly comes out of her stupor, doing her best Tony Perkins 'Psycho' or Jack Nicholson 'The Shining' twisted, pained smile at the audience.
Music up, from 'The Shining' intro or something similar.
This message has been edited by AngrySponge on May 23, 2005 8:28 PM
INT. CONVENTION HALL-EVENING
The Brotherhood of Overland Haulers is having its annual convention; a large crowd has turned out to hear the keynote speaker.
MASTER OF CEREMONIES
Ladies....and lads, let's all take our seats now, out a respect for our very special guest
(motions with palms down)
Now, I know you're all anxious to hear his talk and see his exciting film, so, without further ado, I give you our Brother, our hero, Father Seamus O'Hanley!
Uproarious applause, whistling, etc.
SEAMUS O'HANLEY
Aw, that's so very kind.....thank you, so very much.
(pause)
First, I want to tell you that when they gave me that prize, that McArthur thing, I was delighted that it had the right sorta name attached to it, other than mine!
(more cheering)
Now, I also want you to know that I have donated 1/2 of it to the Reserve Fund-----we truckers need to negotiate life's pathways.....together!
(even mored uproar)
I want, dear friends, to relate a story to you---------and, in telling this story of stories, I ask that you join me now in prayer of thanks that this ancient scroll
(holds it up)
Will bring new understanding to this world's travellers, wherever they are, whatever their path.
(a strange silence)
O'Hanley puts on his glasses, and unfurls the scroll carefully; the lights go down, and a megascreen is backlit; the film begins, with its own soundtrack; after a few minutes of the award ceremony, commentary by the scroll translators, and then, only a muted soundtrack of biblical music with his voice over.
V.O.
"And, it came to pass in those days that a young carpenter of the House of Joseph was caused to journey far and wide in the service of his fathers...."
(pauses taking off glasses)
Now, let me take a moment to ask that the film be paused; many scholars and others less informed have thought that He was somehow neglectful of his duties, had literally disappeared, nothing much being known of these times: finally, we have proof. I will now resume reading from that evidence.
"In those days of His youthful wanderings, He of the House of Joseph was often laden with many weighty matters and sundry things so that devices for His many tasks were caused to be built; such an aid took the form of an ark, and its measure was to be 50 cubits by 400 cubits, to which were teamed six beasts of burden so as to pull the ark atop axles numbering nine. And it was on such a mission that He did journey unto a far away place, requiring that He must needs take succor and humble lodging at a certain oasis whose mistress was one Miriam the Most Righteous, as righteous she was, as great numbers from far and wide didst deem it worthy to dwellest there for a time, to repair there and stop, as it were, and break bread, and refresh their myriad stock and cartage. And, so it was that during this sojourning His teachings grew to be of such repute that weary pilgrims, craftsmen and such made longer by leagues their to gaze upon and hear Him, and his hostess Miriam, who had laid on repaste for this enlarged following who hungered in body and soul, never allowing Him to make recompense, for she was exceedingly glad of them.
(scattered knowing laughter)
And, in the fullness of time, it was a font of great joy and vexation to Him that the great mission did cause distress to the House of Joseph and its promised catering to the earthly needs of the people. And, thusly in prayerful beseeching He didst seek the aid of his Father on high, yea, verily, He did seek forth an answer. And came a day, praise the Lord, that one Archimedes, of the Greeks, didst come unto Him, bringing tidings of aid and assistance, for Archimedes was righteous and did seek only His blessing upon these things. The Lord caused him to tarry there so that it came to pass that on His further caravaning most heavily laden did hear its name as 'miracle'.
CLIMACTIC SHOT: SHOWING HIM ALONE, MOVING HUGE WOODEN FURNISHINGS, ETC. FROM JOSEPH'S FACTORY, ONTO HIS ARK-LIKE TRUCK, THEN UNLOADING THEM, WITH THE ARCHIMEDIAN HYDRAULICS, ETC., REAL RUBE GOLDBERG STUFF.
SEAMUS O'HANLEY
(joyously laughing)
And, so, you now see that that day to this yours has been bless-ed labor! Yet, there is one more revelation: there, you see the 'cab' fashioned for shelter from the harsh sun; we have found fragments of a bill of lading, from Miriam's establishment, appearing to have dispensed a balm, from the village of Gilead, indeed, used to assuage the darker left forearm of the Holy Son in mortal flesh; our next dig will, with certain help
(smiling laughter)
Unearth conclusively that this practice did, in fact, lead to the founding of the Order of The Holy Forearm!
SHOT: A PROPOSED DRAWING FOR A REBUILT STRING OF MONASTERY-LIKE STRUCTURES, DESIGNED TO AID COMMERCIAL TRAVELLERS AND THEIR FOLLOWERS.
The crowd moves excitedly toward him as he descends to greet them, as they boost him onto their shoulders and and carry him out of the hall.
VINCE B. ELZBIB
(sitting in control booth)
Went over like a charm! Estimate we'll recover our investment on these jazzed up truck stops in 18-24 months, tops.
SEAMUS O'HANLEY
(listening thru earpiece)
You're breakin up...hard to hear...just be sure and take care of our guys at McCarthur! Kirk out....
(laughing)
FADE TO BLACK.
'WHY DOES THE STATUS QUO HAVE A LATIN NAME?' (C) BY J.B. PRAVDA
EXT. URBAN STREET DOWNTOWN-DAY
A DISSHEVELED HABITUE OF THE STREETS IS AMBLING ALONG, SEEMINGLY DESPONDENT BEYOND THE 'NORM' FOR SUCH A MARGINALIZED PERSON; HE IS CONSTANTLY AWARE OF HIS SURROUNDINGS IN A WAY THAT IS UNLIKE HIS GENERALLY DISCONNECTED ILK; WHILE HE IS MORE INVISIBLE THAN EVER, HE IS ALSO MORE KEENLY CONSCIOUS OF PEOPLE ALL AROUND HIM----TO THE SIDE, THE FRONT, THE REAR-----TALKING.......TO THEIR DISEMBODIED VOICES.
He looks up at the signs around him above the storefronts. There is a continuous background cacophony surrounding him, off-screen largely.
STREET GUY
(head seeming to spin)
Huh.......Leary's Bar & Grill...... 'Today's Special'.......can say that ag........'Deep Discount Electronics-----Tune Into Us: Save Time & Money!'........good cuz I ain't got......any...
(jerks head)
PASSERBY ONE
....yeah, I can hear you...now....you gotta vote for Kerry....
STREET GUY
(under his breath)
You hear um, too..........voi...... 'Drop-in Clinic'........my ears, mebee......wish somebody'd 'carry' me..um 'bushed'....
(stops at door)
PASSERBY TWO
You've got to be shitting me.......Bush didn't say that...
(Doppler effect)
STREET GUY
Oh.....yeah, says so right....there......
(jerks head)
PASSERBY TWO
Kerry'll say anything, can you be.........
(Doppler)
STREET GUY
(looks at speaker)
Yeah, I heard him..........voi...... 'Drop-in Clinic'........my ears, yeah...... 'Doctor on Call 24 Hrs., Free Treatment for Those Who Qualify'........
PASSERBY THREE
.....could be they're trying to trick you.....
(Doppler)
STREET GUY
.......wha....should....I.....
(jerks head)
PASSERBY FOUR
........don't give a damn what they say......
(Doppler)
STREET GUY
(goes in)
Right......yeah......sit down, gotta....thin....
(cut off)
PASSERBY FIVE
.....what the Hell.....
(Doppler)
STREET GUY
Yeah......what the....
(cut off)
CLINICIAN
CLINICIAN (CONT'D)
Sir, please, come this way.
STREET GUY
Huhhh....ok.....yeah......she's nice.....no, can't see it....he said what?.....fucker......
(grins toothlessly)
Sure, sure..
They are in a windowed room with two chairs, and a medical exam table.
CLINICIAN
Now, what can we do to assist you?
STREET GUY
Too late........way too........see, used ta be, I wuz da only guy out dere....
(points to window)
Talkin....jus talkin......got lots a donations, used ta be.....now, every where ya look, people's talkin....ta dem.....selves bout carryin somebody....an...an...some kinda plant that scares em!
CLINICIAN
(laughs politely)
Oh, you mean cell phones!
STREET GUY
Huh........no, never did sell no phones....but sometimes there ain't no....phone.....oh, no, jus people doin what I....ben dune......sclusive like.
CLINICIAN
Yes, well, many people use ear pieces now, you know, to avoid harming their..... brains.
She realizes that she could have been more tactful.
STREET GUY
It's too late, though......don't matter, cuz the.....Chinease, dey got dis conspear see, takin over dis, takin over dat, cuz they stuff's cheap, see....but it's their stuff's gonna get us, yes sir.........iss mine controlled, what it is.....got me....ah uze ta be a salesman.....had a briefcase an......carried the damn thing till I was flat bushed, no sales......not cheap nuff.....
(cut off)
CLINICIAN
Now, really, what I'd like to do if it's ok with you, I want to take your vitals and then maybe get you some meds....
(cut off)
A large white clad attendant holds him down, strapping him in.
CUT TO 1 HOUR LATER:
EXT. OF DROP-IN CLINIC-DAY
Our Everyman has indeed become 'one' of many.......now 'fine', as in our reflex to hollow greeting 'How are you?'
SHOT: HE IS SEEN WALKING WITH A SPRING IN HIS STEP, ALMOST IN LOCKSTEP WITH.....THE OTHERS; HE CARRIES A SECONDHAND BRIEFCASE---EMPTY---AND HE WEARS AN EARPIECE WITH A WIRE LEADING INTO HIS BRIEFCASE.
STREET GUY
......yeah, yeah I can hear you......you've gotta be kiddin me........sure, let's meet for lunch
(pauses as if listening)
Sure, Chinese, sounds good, see ya soon.....
FADE TO BLACK.
EXT. MUSIC SHOP-DAY
Music is blaring into the street, playing Little Richard's 'I hear you knocking, but you can't come in...'; followed by Frankie Lane's 'Rawhide'........then, The Doors' 'This is the End'.
THE .........END, MY FRIEND!
INT. PUBLIC HEALTH DEPARTMENT-EVE.
A diverse group of people, all career-long 'extras' in various stage & screen productions around the City are gathered for weekly therapy; they all 'suffer' from 'invisibility syndrome'........
DR. LEONA CARTOFF
(noticing an early arrival)
Hi, Quentin, you're early....
QUENTIN FORGUN
Yeah
(sighs)
Rehearsals were cancelled, again. I'm Flavius.....first among Claudius' attendants......
(cut off)
DR. LEONA CARTOFF
Why don't we wait for the others; don't want anyone to feel left out, do we?
Others, about 5 men & women, walk into the windowless room. To encourage participation, a feeling of inclusion, Cartoff has allowed them to wear their stage costumes.
DR. LEONA CARTOFF
Love the gown, Gloria....
GLORIA SWAINS
You do? Really?
DR. LEONA CARTOFF
Of course......
(sees the rest of group)
Good, looks like a 'full house'.
DOUG DOWD
Never have those at the theatre, not even opening night; you'd think people would come, great actors, good story....it's like history.
DR. LEONA CARTOFF
My mistake.....we did agree not to use 'shop' terms, I apologize.
QUENTIN FORGUN
Our 'house' too.....even with fairly new costumes.
DR. LEONA CARTOFF
Group, if you remember, we're going to do something a bit different this evening, like we discussed last time; who wants to be first?
There is silence, eyes averted from hers by all.
AIDA VASQUEZ
I will, even though I'm nervous; I only have two lines.
DR. LEONA CARTOFF
But they're important lines. Especially here......I, we want to hear them.
AIDA VASQUEZ
They're in Italian.....
DR. LEONA CARTOFF
Do them, original, then English, hmm?
HOWARD FITZ
It's better in the stage version only; our director says your body does the translation.
DR. LEONA CARTOFF
Let's let Aida decide...
AIDA VASQUEZ
'Scuse, signore.......questa nona bona.....'
(her arms are flailing)
DR. LEONA CARTOFF
And you play......
AIDA VASQUEZ
Handmaiden, to the Viceroy's daughter, the lovely, shy, but passionate.....
(cut off)
QUENTIN FORGUN
Is she supposed to do all that, we don't have a lot of time for that.
AIDA VASQUEZ
(embarrassed)
Sorry, said I was nervous....
DR. LEONA CARTOFF
You did fine; let's not interrupt, you'll all get a chance......I'll time you, and in that time you may do as you wish.
HOWARD FITZ
Not very organized......discipline is important to 'flow'.
DR. LEONA CARTOFF
The director, um? Well, I'm the director here, if that helps.
(surveys their faces)
Who's next?
HOWARD FITZ
Don't look at me, all of you......you know I don't have any...lines, just standing and holding my axe.
DR. LEONA CARTOFF
Yes, but it's a very large axe.....tell us why.
HOWARD FITZ
I don't have anything to do with that, it's the property manager, he decides all that.
ANDY THETA
I'm in the same boat.....oh, sorry, no jargon-----see, I stand in a boat!
(laughs nervously)
DR. LEONA CARTOFF
It doesn't matter; look, I want to learn from you, we all do, from each other.....just as you all do from the director, the prop man, see?
HOWARD FITZ
Well, it's supposed to signify rank, and power, too.
DR. LEONA CARTOFF
Good. Who's next?
(no response)
Quentin, you wanted to share something....
(interrupted)
HOWARD FITZ
I wasn't really finished; it's a tribal symbol, handed down to the elite warriors only.
QUENTIN FORGUN
(competitively)
Claudius was a survivor, because he played the fool------uh, that's a term the director likes, sorry-----and is careful who he lets around him; I'm his main attendant, confides in me; that's because I'm a mute, not because he trusts me, although.....
HOWARD FITZ
(clears throat loudly)
QUENTIN FORGUN
Like I was saying, it's not as if I'm an advisor, but he gave me my tunic.
(turns to model)
SHOT: WE SEE 'INTO' DR. CARTOFF'S BRAIN, GANGLIA/NEURAL FIRINGS, WITH BLURRED IMAGES OF HER IN VARIOUS COSTUMES; SHE 'SETTLES' UPON ONE AS A ROYAL FIGURE, RECLINED UPON A GILDED LITTER.
GLORIA SWAINS
Dr. Cartoff? Dr. Cart......
QUENTIN FORGUN
(to Dr.)
You ok? Look a little pale....
DR. LEONA CARTOFF
Oh, yes, yes, just a sugar low, I suppose.
(looks at her watch)
Why don't we.....
DOUG DOWD
Take five!
(covers mouth like child, smiling)
DR. LEONA CARTOFF
Alright, Doug, we'll allow that one, not just for the theatre.
HOWARD FITZ
Actually, it's not even used that much by stage dir.......more of a musician's phrase.
They all cross the room, in full regalia, unconsciously posing according to 'role'-----for example, the soldier extends his arm directionally for the Dr., & so forth, as they get their refreshments.
DR. LEONA CARTOFF
Well, that's better. In the time we have left-----and I know you all haven't yet enacted, we'll finish that next time-----let's switch to 'audience' role playing: this will mean that each player is given a ONE word reaction by the rest of you; this is quick, no deep digging, ok, let's go------I'll point to you randomly.
They all go round, with their rapid-fire opinions of each other; it is less important how, who, etc.; what is key is that Dr. C. has been transformed, somehow, perhaps by their costumes/props, she having none, somehow unsatisfied, deeply unconsciously with her postmodern rationalistic 'role'--------while this is going on, she pulls together three chairs and lays across them as in her daydream.
HOWARD FITZ
Wow! Dr., you remind me of our female lead, the regal.....
(cut off)
ANDY THETA
Yes, it's uncanny, sort of a Cleopatra style of supineness, although, our play isn't about......
(also cut off)
QUENTIN FORGUN
Ours is, by analogy, anyway.....powerful personality, like the ones I'm around, by their, well, his, choice regularly, and you, Dr., fill the bill.
HOWARD FITZ
Jargon!
AIDA VASQUEZ
Look!!
(pointing to Dr. C.)
I've never seen such gold lame; she's.....beautiful.
Dr. C. is now bejewelled, bedecked with paraphernalia 'fitting' a royal ancient woman: complete with Egyptianized makeup, etc.; the chairs are now a litter, with veiled canopy, etc. The four men approach, bowing, then grasping the poles, lifting it/her. She is silent in repose, smiling.
DOUG DOWD
Make way, all!
(revelation)
I have dialogue! To the royal bark, awaiting in the harbor; the tides grow strong.....
HOWARD FITZ
I haven't seen a script!
ANDY THETA
Fool, make haste.
QUENTIN FORGUN
Listen to the boatswain.........we must embark her majesty, her rendezvous awaits......
They exit the building, somehow unnoticed, as though those external to 'them', their procession, see nothing extraordinary. The two women are dancing before them, with rose petals.....
FADE TO BRIGHT WHITE.
INT. BOOK-LINED STUDY-EVE.
A man in his late 30's has just stopped pacing and rewriting his 'manifesto' suicide 'note'; he has, exhaustedly, slumped into his chair and dialed 911 on speaker. He has closed and locked the study door.
AVERY MANN
Hul....lo.....I think I'm close to checking out.....
CRISIS OPERATOR
Sir,.... I'm having trouble hearing you....you say 'freakin out'?
AVERY MANN
Yeah, that too; you taping this?
CRISIS OPERATOR
Yessir, regulations require.....
(cutoff)
AVERY MANN
Good, it'll save the few who might give a shit, and the world at large thru the mediapimps who play it endlessly for a day or so, the trouble of reading it, or me writing it!
CRISIS OPERATOR
Hey, blame that one on freedom of the press......
AVERY MANN
Yeah, to manipulate and lie for their corporate masters!
CRISIS OPERATOR
Ok, let's talk, you and me. Hell with the media, an all that jazz.....don't get me wrong, I'm down with what you're sayin, been livin it, Mr.....?
AVERY MANN
(chilling out)
Mann, Avery Mann.
CRISIS OPERATOR
You live at 1216 Wright Way, Elysium suburbs?
AVERY MANN
(indignant again)
That what your high tech files say, hey, must be true......why don't they use their technology to empower the 3/4 out there who don't even have a phone, or a decent place to put one....hey, I'm living in Hotel California, ok?
CRISIS OPERATOR
'You can check out any time you please, just can't ever leave', right?
AVERY MANN
Amen; look, you trying to manipulate me?
CRISIS OPERATOR
(tough but firm)
Look, Avery, you preachin to the choir; you're a educated man, you read alot, right?
AVERY MANN
Who cares, what has it done for me except cause all this grief, called 'awareness'?
CRISIS OPERATOR
'To be or not to be...', that ain't the question, you hear; what did it ever do for that whiner who had it all----smart, status, great wardrobe, velvet this and that.......what'd all that ponderin in the palace tower do for him and those he cared for.....messed up that gal's head something fierce, all cause he saw thru her daddy!
AVERY MANN
(into it)
What about his best bud, Horatio...'sweet prince' my ass, yes man to a hand wringer......
(cutoff)
CRISIS OPERATOR
So, you down with the fact that I am not no Horatio?
(pauses and hears silence as consent)
Good; now, look here: mad as Hell done been done, baby, burn it down been done....you need to get peaceful if you wanna see peace out there, you hear, Avery?
AVERY MANN
I'm listening..........
CRISIS OPERATOR
Ever read Sartre?
AVERY MANN
(smug)
Yeah, 'Hell is other people'.......
CRISIS OPERATOR
'Existence precedes essence', ok; do the math.....you totally free, even inside corporate hegemony, got it, and that's givin you all this angst, ok.....welcome to the only race, the human kind.
AVERY MANN
(flummoxed)
I didn't....get your name, m'am.
CRISIS OPERATOR
Well, now that you actin all peaceful, I supposed I can tell ya; it's Teresa.
AVERY MANN
Teresa, nice name.....
CRISIS OPERATOR
You got that right, Avery; named for the Saint.
AVERY MANN
(self-satisfied)
Not yet, she isn't, Vatican politics.
CRISIS OPERATOR
Now, don't pay that no mind; she's already got that halo, doan be needin no human stuff. All peaceful every day, moving mountains.......you hear bout her in Beirut during worst of dat mess?
AVERY MANN
Yes, she walked through a gun battle, they stopped, just like that, didn't know she was coming, they begged her not to go.
CRISIS OPERATOR
See how weak 'they' really are? Peace beats war like aces high, gotta walk that walk, at's all.
AVERY MANN
You make it sound so simple.
CRISIS OPERATOR
Honey, been livin that walk, why I do this work; now, you want mine to be a growth industry, just keep ponderin, droppin out fore you get started.
AVERY MANN
Sounds like I need boots.
(laughing nervously)
CRISIS OPERATOR
If 'they made for walkin, stomping all over lying and cheatin, like the song say.
AVERY MANN
Teresa, you ever free for lunch?
CRISIS OPERATOR
Don't know, not sposed ta fraternize, but, anybody knows bout St. T, guess an exception can be made.
AVERY MANN
It's a date!
CRISIS OPERATOR
Just one catch: the Mr. T. deal: I pity the fool who doan listen to me!
They both laugh for a moment, Avery hangs up and heads upstairs to get his 'boots'.
SHOT: WE SEE HIS HAND TURNING THE KNOB, UNLOCKING THE DOOR, THEN SEE/HEAR EXPLOSIVE BLAST.
ATTENDING PHYSICIAN
How the hell did you get him here so quick? He's got a chance, thanks to you.
POLICE OFFICER
That's the thing about it, got a dispatch call from 911, saying that suspicious vibes received from someone they called 'the Bootleg Killer' being in his neighborhood.
SHOT: WE TRAVEL THROUGH HIS HOUSE, POV/HAND-HELD UP TO REMAINS OF SHOTGUN RIGGED BY 'AVERY' ? , 'FORGOTTEN' BY HIM IN HIS ELATION........
O.S. DISEMBODIED VOICE
Oh, well, can't win them all; I'm off.......
Music up, Stones: 'Glad to meet you, hope you guessed my name'....
INT. METROPOLITAN ART GALLERY-DAY
Present day,an elderly woman, dressed elegantly if out of date, is perusing a medium-sized canvas from an exhibition of Nazi-banned art of the early thirties; she is seemingly transfixed by it, with its garish colors, matte black metallic frame, and its atavistic use of an old Italian Renaissance technique.....Siegel is said to have actually met with some of these types, and is reputed to have despised, even consider killing them.
SPOTLIGHT: WE SEE THE TYPICAL CURATORIAL LABEL DESCRIBING THE PIECE: 'PRADA, JOSEF', 1893-1939; OFF STAGE VOICE OVER READS:'UNTITLED STUDY IN CHIAROSCURO': THIS WORK DEPICTS WHAT IS WIDELY AGREED TO BE THE BIZARRE MEETING OF MESSRS. BUGSY SIEGEL, HERMAN GOERING AND JOSEF GOEBBELS IN ITALY, 1939; ITS OBVIOUS DENIGRATION OF THESE FIGURES OF VARYING MILIEUS OF CRIMINALITY IS SAID TO HAVE SINGULARLY PERSONIFIED HIS MASTERFUL DEPICTION OF THE PEDESTRIAN GROTESQUERY OF THAT PERIOD'S PROMINENT PERSONS AND, SADLY, ACCOUNTED FOR HIS UNTIMELY DEATH.
SEGUE TO HER DAYDREAM.
EXT. ROMAN PALAZZO OF HIGH ITALIAN OFFICIAL-EVE.
It is late 1930's; the Countess and her American 'boyfriend' are guests of the Fascist dictator's Deputy Foreign Minister, her brother-in-law; they are lounging in the evening air.
BUGSY SIEGEL
Look, baby, um bored.....what say we go out, ya know, dancin or somethin?
DOROTHY DIFRASSO
Ben, darling, I've told you, we must be seen with His Excellency....
(cut off)
BUGSY SIEGEL
Yeah, so what about this artiste you been talkin bout, Prada, you say he's gonna paint us; I do not like this idea......
DOROTHY DIFRASSO
Darling, not at the affair, later, using his imagination; perhaps he'll show you as a Roman Senator..
(caresses him)
Reclining on a traditional imperial couch.
BUGSY SIEGEL
An you're gonna feed me grapes, right?
DOROTHY DIFRASSO
Now, just promise me you'll be on your best behavior.
BUGSY SIEGEL
Just as long as there's cash involved.....
(looks around)
This place gives me the creeps, all broken down looking, you ask me.
DOROTHY DIFRASSO
Ben, darling, Il Duce has promised $40,000 for your little formula.....isn't that enough?
(cut off)
BUGSY SIEGEL
Chump change, from a chump....say, plenty a customers from what I seen in the papers, maybe even my Uncle Sam.
DOROTHY DIFRASSO
Well....that's just it; look, the German delegation will be there, and the Japanese, so, behave!
(coquettish)
SEGUE TO:
INT. MUSSOLINI'S PALATIAL RESIDENCE-EVE
Bugsy and DiFrasso arrive and are ushered into a semi-private anteroom, where certain high sycophants are in attendance.
JOSEF GOEBBELS
(approaches Countess)
Ach, how lovely you look, contessa..
(kisses her hand)
DOROTHY DIFRASSO
Enchante, Dr., may I present my escort, Benjamin Siegel?
BUGSY SIEGEL
You're a doctor? What of?
DOROTHY DIFRASSO
Philosophy, my dear..
(stern look)
He is exceedingly well read...
BUGSY SIEGEL
(mutters)
Looks kinda pale ta me....
JOSEF GOEBBELS
If I may say so, you look Italian...you possess ze most piercing blue eyes, like my grimalken....from where did your...people emigrate to America?
BUGSY SIEGEL
(aside to audience)
Siegel slowly blinks his steel-blue eyes, while his hyperactive brain races along neural pathways unvisited since his last killing. He now 'speaks his mind' in an aside to the audience, in an isolating spotlight, all others behind him, in relative frozen pose and darkness.
BUGSY SIEGEL (cont'd)
'Italian'---might as well be, Hell, they been my pals since...wait a goddam minute: sounds like an attempt at sarcasm what never had a fightin chance..or, maybe, I just don't like this jerk's looks----and that comment bout my freakin peepers---must be a fag; course, could be on the level---even the WOPS from the old neighborhood used ta call me 'cuz'---nah, he's callin me a kike, roundabout---that's why the 'where your people from' bit.
Bugsy is now ready to respond, mano a mano.
BUGSY SIEGEL (cont'd)
Fraid not, Brooklyn, New York, USA born and raised; as for my folks, they never had much of a place ta be from, get me, huh?
Bugsy straightens his lapels and pats down the outside breast pocket of his snazzy dinner jacket in the way that usually spelled impending violence, or at least a reason for a frisk, at least in Brooklyn.
DOROTHY DIFRASSO
Darling, what a wonderfully colorful demonstration of your...Italian heritage!
(giggles)
JOSEF GOEBBELS
(recovering)
Yes, yes....I am certain Il Duce will enjoy your ....provincial attitude---he himself is from, shall we say, the street.
BUGSY SIEGEL
Well, from what um told, you spent a good bit a time in the street yourself...doc.
JOSEF GOEBBELS
(strained laughter)
Touche, Mr. Siegel, perhaps you have special knowledge of zis, yes, owing to your, how do you say, your...Christian name.
Goebbels, and the evening, are spared a scene as Il Duce himself enters and all heads turn his black-shirted way. Trumpets flourish, as he struts in.
IL DUCE'S AIDE
Signore and signorine, Sir Benito Mussolini!
BUGSY SIEGEL
(whispers to countess)
What's with the 'Sir'?
DOROTHY DIFRASSO
Haven't you heard, the British have proposed that he be knighted for his work in Albania.
BUGSY SIEGEL
Yeah, to match his shirt...
(phoney smile thru his teeth)
IL DUCE'S AIDE
Signore Siegel, he wishes a word with you; this way please...
Bugsy and Dorothy follow with Bugsy darting looks at the small coterie of German and Italian uniformed types.
SEGUE TO:
INT. MUSSOLINI'S PRIVATE OFFICE-MOMENTS LATER
Il Duce motions for the two to be seated on a sofa opposite him in his gilded, elevated chair (think Chaplain's 'Great Dictator' scene, reversed).
IL DUCE'S AIDE
Contessa, you look ravishing! May I get you anything, anything at all?
DOROTHY DIFRASSO
Oh, you are too kind; no, Il Duce, your time is more than we could wish for.
IL DUCE'S AIDE
Good, then we can get down to business. Mr. Siegel....
(cut off)
BUGSY SIEGEL
Ben, please.....my friends call me Ben.
IL DUCE'S AIDE
Very well, although I had been told it was 'Bugsy'.
Bugsy is pissed, putting it down to what he chooses to think is Goebbels influence, that the Doc must have gotten to Duce.
BUGSY SIEGEL
(sarcastic)
No.....you were mis....informed, El Dueshy.
Il Duce looks at the countess to avoid any further slips of the tongue.
IL DUCE'S AIDE
Mr. Siegel, I regret to inform you that your interesting little explosive formula has not proven to be what we.....had hoped for; my German friends have, it seems, come up with something far more...shall we say, potent.
Bugsy has had enough; he gets up abruptly, while Il Duce is surprised, still seated.
DOROTHY DIFRASSO
Il Duce, I'm sure that you must be getting back to your guests; we understand and wish for you to know that it has been a privilege to have had this opportunity to be of service.
Il Duce rises, seemingly satisfied, and busses her hand. He doesn't extend his hand to Bugsy, who instinctively pats his breast pocket again, his particular form of salute, finally catching himself as an aide behind Il Duce is concerned.
BUGSY SIEGEL
Arrivederche, Dueshy! Maybe another....time.
SEGUE BACK TO GALLERY:
INT. METROPOLITAN ART GALLERY-DAY
An admirer of the painting approaches, startling her.
ADMIRER
Chiaroscuro.....wonderful, 'light within darkness'.
DOROTHY DIFRASSO
Yes......deep darkness.
She slowly turns and leaves the stage.
FADE TO WHAT ELSE.
WORD PLAY
'A Play on Words......'
By J.B. Pravda(c)
INT. COCKTAIL LOUNGE OF RESTORED 'RETRO' SILENT FILM PALACE-EVE
Two older male theatrical types, long since past their stage prime as masters of the mimetic arts---reduced now to playing Vegas as Cirque de Soleil clown extras, not to mention the odd convention as greeters---these purists are feeling especially out of phase with the times and crass modernity. It is intermission at a silent film festival/revival. They've been together (gender preference is uncertain and left that way) so long they are able to complete one another's necessarily terse verbalizations.
MAN ONE
Thoughts?
MAN TWO
Many.
MAN ONE
(sighs worshipfully as he speaks)
Chaplain......
MAN TWO
So...mimetic.
MAN ONE
Genetic.
MAN TWO
Sound hurt.
MAN ONE
No question.
MAN TWO
(growing anger)
Words!
MAN ONE
Affected the work.....
MAN TWO
Caveman.....
MAN ONE
Did fine.....
MAN TWO
Without them.
USHER
(smiles pityingly)
Gentlemen, we're starting......
They go through an almost habitual yet comical Alfonse/Gastogne routine, even for the simple unnoticed way of standing and proceeding into the theatre again. There is a sad elegance to their exaggerated sensibilities expressed via gestures alone. End of Scene One.
Scene Two
INT. DARKENED THEATRE-EVE
The two men are facing the audience, which serves as the screen; the only lighting is such as to Halloween-like illuminate their facial features markedly (flashlight on chin); they proceed to react with every one of the many muscles of the human face so movingly and, crucially for effect, in exact synchronization with the other, without looking at each other at all; we see darkened outlines of others behind them in theatre seats for effect only. The music is, of course, classical and largely piano and string, from offstage, in sync with the facial expressions, vice versa. From pathos to bathos, they capture it; this lasts for about 2.5 to 3 minutes. End of Scene Two.
Scene Three
INT. RETIREMENT VILLAGE/ACTORS' APARTMENT HOME-DAY
Back to modern reality, with its blaring TVs and radios---most of the residents are, of course, hard of hearing. Throughout the 'day' we see the two throwbacks recoil from a series of encounters which cumulatively cause them consternation/revulsion: this is shown via gesticulation and facial expressions, seemingly in mimetic whiteface the effect of which is created by both subtle makeup and lighting innovations. The situations are without dialogue, except for a 'soundtrack' of cacaphony, comprised of snipets of electronic speakers and intermittent shouts. At the end of the scene, one sees an advertisement in the newspaper for resident teachers at the prominent old school for the deaf: this is made known to the audience via voiceover from offstage couched as the 'reading aloud' voice of the two of them, reading the ad to themselves---key=two voices in perfect sync!
Scene Four
INT. HEADMASTER'S OFFICE OF SCHOOL FOR DEAF-DAY
They are in a meeting with the headmaster.
HEADMASTER
Gentlemen, I cannot tell you what it has meant to us here---why, in just two short months our enrollment and success rates are at record levels, not to mention the donations from various benefactors. Allow me to tell you that your techniques have brought to life in our students the lost art of, if you will, body language, far beyond mere sign language. Is there anything, anything at all to make your stay here more appealing to you?!
The two of them take turns hand writing a note, then pass it to the headmaster.
HEADMASTER (cont'd)
(he reads it)
Of course, I see.....quite right, it is best you not fall back on verbalizations.
The two men rise, gracefully and mime out that they must prepare for the day's classes: this should be bittersweet, only warmly comical, sentimental and moving, as misdirection for the unexpected ironic joke upcoming. End of Scene Four.
Scene Five
INT. CLASSROOM OF SCHOOL FOR THE DEAF-DAY
It is later that day and the two men are in their element, and in full swing, classic form when a young male student stands, frantically signing, translated by one of the men to the other who is not schooled in sign language.
MAN ONE
'.......you, you just think you're so accomplished.....yes, accomplished......'
(turns head to man two)
'I have sat here for weeks, at first impressed and then it hit me......'
The young man continues signing but man one does not continue translating, a look of shocked paralysis comes over his expressive face. Then, after about another 30 seconds, the young man flips them off with the universal 'bird' finger, and storms out.
MAN TWO
Well, what just happened......
MAN ONE
(deadpan, fey)
He told us to.....get fucked....
MAN TWO
I mean the rest of it!
MAN ONE
Man one dismisses the class with a single gesture, now very self-consciously.
MAN ONE (cont'd)
Sit down.
MAN TWO
Well?
MAN ONE
Chaplain....
MAN TWO
What?
MAN ONE
It really hurts.
MAN TWO
(arm around shoulder)
Little shit.
MAN ONE
Not that, it was.......magical, really...
(entranced momentarily)
Great mimetic promise......
MAN TWO
Huh?
MAN ONE
(tearfully)
You don't sign: he said....we were sorry Chaplains.....
MAN TWO
(puzzled)
What should we...do?
MAN ONE
(lightbulb in his head)
Let's go!
MAN TWO
(similar revelation)
Yes, let's go........I see it now, it's a...sign, what we've been waiting for......
MAN ONE
(grinning broadly)
Indeed, a sign, from....HIM!; we go, to spread the....word!
They stand, and leave;in homage to Beckett's Waiting for Godot, they purposely avoid Chaplainesquery and now become theatre of the absurd purists, using words, albeit frugally, as their crowning effect, above mere mimetics.
'Gettisberg Addressed' by J.B. Pravda(c)
A MONUMENTAL FARCE.....
INT. LINCOLN BEDROOM THE WHITE HOUSE-NIGHT
The 'spirit' of the late Prez is center stage, giving as an aside a 'backgrounder', from his POV; he appears as a holographic green/laser light likeness & seems as amazed at its 'feel' as the audience. His gaze is fixed upon the person in 'his' bed & his thoughts are projected audibly hence his lips do not move. Note: this effect can be a simple prop/cutout with green filtered light &/or dayglo paint.
ABRAHAM LINCOLN (V.O.)
His 'voice' is coming thru a scratchy PA like device, lending space/time staticky quality.
As best I can cogitate, my friend Mr. Stanton was not given to exaggeration.....'now he belongs to the Ages....': not a bad bit of prose from so conniving a mind.
While I am no man of science or religion, for that matter, as best I can reckon the immortal essence of my being has acted like an echo of sound energy, having the effect of bringing 'me', as such, here and now; just what this fella is doing in my old English bed----fitfully asleep at that----may have something to do with this revisitation;
(notices restless occupant)
never did afford me much soundness of slumber, neither. I take note of his seeming febrile tossing, a condition he and I do share in the somnolescent state......puts me in mind of a practice of those Indian fellas I encountered in my militia days on the frontier; they had the intentional practice of inducing such perspiration in their lodges so as to conjure communion with the.... spirit world.
(strokes beard, feels own chest)
Now, this here fella, while not appearing to bear the complexion of those rascals, seems to have made contact with something beyond him which has seen fit to conjure this semblance of me!
The occupant of the bed suddenly sits up, startled.
ABE SEYMOUR
(rubs head)
What the.....! Nightmare.........saw....him....or heard...shit, don't know!
He gets up shakily and wanders to the washroom, closing the door half way.
ABRAHAM LINCOLN (V.O.)
Suppose he might've heard me.....come to think on it, I was able to 'hear' him, his thoughts, that is; didn't pay it much mind, preoccupied as I was with my own newfound physicality, ya see.
(actor touches himself as if pinching in a dreamstate)
Don't mind observing that he, his manner of speech, while every bit as rough as some of the vagrant characters haunting this house in my day, was unknown to me; this must be a time somewhat after that.
He is interrupted by the distinctive sound of a helicopter from the distance.
ABRAHAM LINCOLN (CONT'D) (V.O.) (CONT'D)
There.....that's no locomotive sound.....
He floats to the window, peering out and finding its source.
ABRAHAM LINCOLN (cont'd) (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Don't suppose ole Da Vinci is revisiting these parts, too!
Seymour emerges from the bathroom, looks at his watch on the night stand.
ABE SEYMOUR
(to himself)
Must be the President returning from New York.....hope things went as planned; they better have.
Seymour dials his cellular phone.
ABE SEYMOUR (cont'd)
Yeah, Jerry....how'd it go? Whaddya mean you called me last night, my phone was on, plugged into the recharger!
Scrutinizes phone's datascreen.
ABE SEYMOUR (cont'd)
Son of a bitch, you're right.......swear I didn't hear a thing; I guess what they say bout this freakin room is right.....I could swear...He was....here......yeah, yeah, I know that sounds whack, but, I got this feeling, creepy damn sensation...
(listens for 10 seconds)
Alright, good, you can debrief me when I get back tonight; gonna jump in the shower, ciao, Jerry, prayer breakfast with the Prez.....
(snickering)
Lincoln does another aside, now not just a hologram the actor's lips now are seen to move.
ABRAHAM LINCOLN
(somber furrowed brow, peering upward, around)
To whom it may concern: Not privileged with having the necessary understanding of the Cosmos & Its Nature, I am subscribed to no particular religious persuasion and its philosophy, but, perhaps, this is all to the good, and in the service of that higher good I am doubtless here; it is upon that assumption that I shall accompany this Seymour fella insofar as it may assist us both....to see more
Lincoln smiles bemusedly.
deeply into the great plan of which we may be a part. I now embark upon that enterprise knowing not what form or place or, indeed, content of address will best serve save the very Mind of this unassuming fella; at a minimum, I have some confidence that it may at least offer some enhancement to the civilization of its vessel. Your Humble Servant, A. Lincoln.
Lincoln suddenly vanishes, as Seymour emerges, dressing for his breakfast with the President. Somehow, he seems to have taken on an air of dignity he himself notices looking in the mirror.
ABE SEYMOUR
Must've slept better than I thought, hmm.
He scratches at his five o'clock shadow.
ABE SEYMOUR (cont'd)
Maybe I'll let it grow out, like Mary suggested.
Looks at his watch, rushes out, leaving his tie haphazardly tied. End of Scene One.
LEFT BLANK INTENTIONALLY
SCENE TWO:Seymour is in conference in his NYC suite of offices; he has dismissed his servile audience, taking a call from his 'faceman', Jerry Zitsky.
ABE SEYMOUR
Jer…….let's have it, I couldn't ask him about it directly.
JERRY ZITSKY
Best we meet, just wanted to get your availability on your private calendar.
ABE SEYMOUR
Pacino's in the Village, near Cooper Union, my table, you know Angie, he'll bring ya back, 8ish.
JERRY ZITSKY
Alright Abe, but you sure it's safe?
ABE SEYMOUR
What the hell, those guys are my friends, for Chrissake. Stop worrying, just have good news for me, eh? Later.
They hang up; Jerry buzzes for his lackeys to return for their audience.
SEGUE TO SAME SET, BLOCKS AWAY:
The storied Cooper Union site where Lincoln gave his debut speech that so impressed the Eastern establishment…..in 1860. The President is reminiscing; we listen in as he stands at a bare antique podium, in spotlight.
ABRAHAM LINCOLN
New York...ah, fondest memories reside here……28th of February, and me without a proper winter coat, owing to my ungainly size; the fool thing only warmed----and tokenly, at that----the parts of me least necessary to the warming of an already cool bunch, they having anteed up a full bit each to scrutinize yours truly, the peculiar man of the plains; never have forgotten the appraisal one feller of the press gave me: 'He said 'Mr. Cheerman'……oh so tall, his clothes ill-fitting, badly wrinkled……used to speaking out-of-doors'.
I recall the studied phrases that, I believed then and now----can it be the 21st century?--- won me the honor of the Presidency and, most saliently, the descriptor 'honorable', when addressing my new Party's comrades: "even though much provoked, let us do nothing through passion and ill temper"……. "let us have faith that right makes might…."
(sighs heavily)
In my brief sojourn in this here and now my sincere admonishments have been ----how did the country boys put it?----put all'topsy turvy', stood on their ear. Appears that might now wholly comprises right……..
(furrows brown pensively, looking at pocketwatch)
Seems I'm due at a nearby address of foreign name at 8pm, or thereabouts……..oh, well, my ministers to that land of ancient arts once informed me that cuisine is certainly among them; while my present state may not require victuals, as such, these old nostrils are as good a judge of delectations as they might be of men's hearts.
End of Scene Two.
SCENE THREE
INT. WHITE HOUSE OVAL OFFICE-EARLIER THAT SAME DAY
President Gettisberg is in a strategy meeting; present is his mentor; he grouses over repeated headlines, holding a newspaper.
PRESIDENT G.
(chuckling nervously)
Dammit, money, it's freedom of speech; just raised a ton of it through my friend Abe Seymour. Hell, even St. Lincoln used the spoils system; the only reason it didn't include his bedroom is…..well, he needed it!
WALTER HAUSMANN
Well, Mr. President……
(cut off)
PRESIDENT G.
Come on, I know the code. Spit it out!
WALTER HOUSMANN
As you wish, Getty……, the public thinks you're corrupt; the only antidote is action, consistent, studied action, flavored with wit and, yes, wisdom wouldn't hurt.
PRESIDENT G.
Don't tell me you've been sleeping in that damned bedroom too? Just how do I step into those marble, size 20 shoes of that, that monument!?
(motions to Lincoln bust)
WALTER HOUSMANN
It's called the common touch; why do you think he's on both the penny and the most common legal tender with somewhat more value? Should I start quoting Kipling? 'If…..'
(cut off)
PRESIDENT G.
So, Wally, what you're telling me with your academic slant and your goddam facts is homespun integrity sells?
WALTER HOUSMANN
Listen to this-----example: not long after his assassination, a story floated around for awhile having to do with who might have shot him, before they caught Booth, about some damned monastic type--- he actually told it privately to his secretary, Hay--- has to do with his ability to connect with the common man, even about matters personally embarrassing: listen to Hay's account:
'......the fey mannerisms of the aging cleric gave rise to suspicion so revolting as to have been kept concealed by the government for lo these many decades. His advances toward the young, strapping Lincoln at a nearby sylvan monastery in the Territory of Kentucky had been refused, albeit the kindly Lincoln had not revealed the incident to anyone for some years, until at a political rally attended, unbeknownst to Lincoln, by the then monk.
It seemed that the youthful office seeker had used the incident for a home spun yarn: 'This puts me in mind of the solitary monk, sequestered as they are in the very bosom of nature; well, seems this here man of the cloth one day happened upon a young boy, hunting in the woods.
'My son, what brings you to this place?' wondered the almost-preacher; lookin over the strange garment worn by this man of the woods, the boy put his own question to the stranger: 'What kinda feller are you?'
'Why, my son, I am thy father and thy brother' said the man.
The boy knew his course, and finally replied, walking backwards as he did: 'These same feet that brung me here's gettin me outta here.........share a bed with ma pappy and bruther an I sure doan need me more a that!'
PRESIDENT G.
(laughs heartily)
Wally, you're a genius……..I'd be better off with country boys---Hell, it'll play to the cheap seats! No, done and done; I want the best person you can find out there…….this is talent search one: find me a Lincoln, and quickly.
Lincoln obliges by appearing ephemerally center stage, the other players frozen behind him.
ABRAHAM LINCOLN
(sighs)
This here fella may just as well have been a member of the firm of 'Ketchum & Cheatham'. Man-ipulation---now, I have seen my share of God's variety of humans and I confess freely I never could comprehend this odd silent pact they--we--enter with one another, measured by the fool's golden rule: 'I'll sure do it to you fore ya kin ta me'. Seems to me it's only when he starts cogitatin with that selfish thinkin machine tween his ears that the hu-MAN becomes the beast, MAN-ipulator.
Lincoln now transforms himself, into vapor/dry ice, ending Scene Three.
SCENE FOUR
INT. PACINO'S RISTORANTE IN GREENWICH VILLAGE-EVE.
Zitsky and Seymour,et. al. are dining at Pacino's, a mob hangout with a rep for great food and deal making.
SCENE Four
INT. PACINO'S RISTORANTE IN GREENWICH VILLAGE-EVE.
Zitsky and Seymour,et. al. are dining at Pacino's, a mob hangout with a rep for great food and deal making.
ANGELO PACINO
Jerry, how ya dune?
JERRY ZITSKY
Angie, good to see ya; he here?
ANGELO PACINO
Runnin late; wanna sit at his table, have a glass a wine?
JERRY ZITSKY
Sure, sure, thanks paisan.
Zitsky is escorted to a private dining room, very cosy; he tries to use his cell phone without success; he feels a chill in the room, despite his girth and the July heat.
Angie enters with Seymour, they exchanging kisses on the cheek, etc.
ABE SEYMOUR
Jerry, what's up….you look like ya seen a ghost or something?
JERRY ZITSKY
(recovering)
Oh, yeah….maybe I did see one, many a soul has met his demise…..
(feels like he's channeling, shakes head quickly, snapping out of it)
round here...
(cut off)
ANGELO PACINO
What the hell, you a poet or somethin?!
They all laugh as Angelo leaves.
ABE SEYMOUR
So, um waiting; let me have it.
JERRY ZITSKY
There's a fly in the proverbial ointment; seems that fly's got a name and he's attracted to the grease we been applying to the wheels of government.
ABE SEYMOUR
You told me this morning that things went good; what gives?
JERRY ZITSKY
Hey, that was then, this is now; look, the word is the Prez is planning a 180, a wannabe Lincoln deal.
ABE SEYMOUR
You know, you had me worried for a minute; that battleship don't turn so easy, capish? How the hell would he sell this sea change, some deathbed conversion?
JERRY ZITSKY
Well, yeah, political death, which is where he was headed; seems he's pulling out all the stops to, get this, recruit some adviser/speech writer clown with the Midas touch.
ABE SEYMOUR
Good luck: my good fellow, Midas starved to death!
Abe Seymour begins twitching and otherwise giving off body language very distracting to Jerry.
JERRY ZITSKY
Hey, what's with you, been reading books or sumpin…….you OK? And, what's with the beard, rabbi?
ABE SEYMOUR
Why, yes, my friend, I feel greatly refreshed. As for the whiskers, just feel less naked to the world...
(wistfully distracted)
I'm reminded of a tale I heard when just a boy ……..seems this farmer had raised a prize porker....
(cut off)
JERRY ZITSKY
A what?
ABE SEYMOUR
A very large pig; now, people from all around would inquire about the sou, whereupon the farmer, seeing his benefit, advised that he would have to charge a price to actually see said animal.
JERRY ZITSKY
Christ, you feelin ok?
ABE SEYMOUR
Don't you want to hear the ending......well, sure enough, the man pulls out the asking price and, strangely, begins to walk off. 'Don't you wanna see the pig?' queried the farmer, to which the stranger replied, 'Why, no sir, I do believe I just seen it'.
JERRY ZITSKY
That's it, you need a doctor!
ABE SEYMOUR
Hardly, this morning at breakfast----roomful of people, mind you---- he asked me to get him some names, you know, of wise grey eminence storyteller types; well, somehow, I know my course: you see, my former friend, thanks to a certain bedroom, politics has made an estranged bad fellow!
A door is heard to creak open; Arnold is seen to slowly stroke his beard, then rise and head offstage to that door---door is then heard to close.
Music up: 'Battle Hymn of the Republic'.