FADE IN:
EXT. CITY PARK - DAY
JACK stares up at a large tree in the center of the park.
A WOMAN hangs from one of the branches, her wrists chained to the thick wood.
Her hair hangs in matted curls around her face. She wears a coarse shirt and loose Asian pants.
Her wrists are swollen and red.
RYAN walks up to JACK.
He leans towards his friend, keeping his voice low.
RYAN
Oh my God! She stinks.
How long has she been up there?
Oh my God! She stinks.
How long has she been up there?
Jack shakes his head admiringly.
JACK
Going on a week now.
RYAN
Freak.
Going on a week now.
RYAN
Freak.
He looks at Jack.
RYAN
You respect her? You respect her. Oh goodness.
JACK
Well, don’t you think that within the realms of freedom of speech,
extreme speech is sometimes warranted?
RYAN
Uh...yeah, no one needs to see this.
JACK
Maybe we do, maybe we need to be shocked
out of our apathy every once in a while.
RYAN
We don’t even know what she’s trying to shock us about.
JACK
Maybe that’s the point. Maybe the simple fact of her hanging
there provoking this conversation is enough.
RYAN
Garbage.
JACK
I mean, I think it’s necessary for art to be extreme sometimes,
look at Marina Abramovic...
RYAN
Oh no, no, don’t you bring her up. That twisted, crazy...
JACK
Ok, so you don’t like her, or what she does,
but does that make her art any less valid?
RYAN
Excuse me? What she does isn’t art.
JACK
So it’s not art? Just because it isn’t pretty and shiny and clean
...just because it doesn’t make you feel OK with the world, means it’s not art?
RYAN
Yeah, I can go with that. Art is supposed to require skill, time, talent...talent Jack!
JACK
And what about the talent of thought
...what about art designed in such away to provoke...
RYAN
Discussions like this...whatever, it’s not art.
JACK
Maybe we need to be forced to view the ugly and the painful.
RYAN
Talent. Talent.
JACK
And who determines what talent is?
RYAN
Oh gosh, take your postmodern bull and shove it
...I’ll keep my shiny things thank you.
JACK
Have a good day Ryan.
You respect her? You respect her. Oh goodness.
JACK
Well, don’t you think that within the realms of freedom of speech,
extreme speech is sometimes warranted?
RYAN
Uh...yeah, no one needs to see this.
JACK
Maybe we do, maybe we need to be shocked
out of our apathy every once in a while.
RYAN
We don’t even know what she’s trying to shock us about.
JACK
Maybe that’s the point. Maybe the simple fact of her hanging
there provoking this conversation is enough.
RYAN
Garbage.
JACK
I mean, I think it’s necessary for art to be extreme sometimes,
look at Marina Abramovic...
RYAN
Oh no, no, don’t you bring her up. That twisted, crazy...
JACK
Ok, so you don’t like her, or what she does,
but does that make her art any less valid?
RYAN
Excuse me? What she does isn’t art.
JACK
So it’s not art? Just because it isn’t pretty and shiny and clean
...just because it doesn’t make you feel OK with the world, means it’s not art?
RYAN
Yeah, I can go with that. Art is supposed to require skill, time, talent...talent Jack!
JACK
And what about the talent of thought
...what about art designed in such away to provoke...
RYAN
Discussions like this...whatever, it’s not art.
JACK
Maybe we need to be forced to view the ugly and the painful.
RYAN
Talent. Talent.
JACK
And who determines what talent is?
RYAN
Oh gosh, take your postmodern bull and shove it
...I’ll keep my shiny things thank you.
JACK
Have a good day Ryan.
Ryan doesn’t hear, he is stomping off, disgusted.
Jack contemplates the tree woman again, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
He slowly approaches the tree.
JACK
Hey, umm, I’m something of a fan.
Hey, umm, I’m something of a fan.
The Tree Woman barely nods, not taking the effort to open her eyes.
JACK
Look, I’m...you know what...I have a thing for people doing crazy art and making wild prophetic statements...and speaking languages the rest of us don’t understand. So would you like to go out with me sometime.
Look, I’m...you know what...I have a thing for people doing crazy art and making wild prophetic statements...and speaking languages the rest of us don’t understand. So would you like to go out with me sometime.
The Tree Woman’s eyes blink open and she stares down at Jack, her eyes a bloodh-shot dark red.
She begins to smile faintly and Jack grins back.
FADE TO BLACK.
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