The 365° Experiment

A Thank You Note

2009-01-01T01:30:00.000-08:00

It's been quite a year - I just wanted to thank everyone whose been involved in this project in some way or another. Thank you to everyone who read and encouraged us on our journey.

There are a few people I want to thank by name.

Eric, thanks so much for joining me in this crazy idea - I'm ridiculously happy that a script of yours was actually shot - what an amazing opportunity...may there be many more.

Marjorie, thanks for inspiring some of my favorite characters, being a thoughtful reader, and always having great critiques. You've managed to keep me in awe this year with your bravery - I hope some of those characters do you justice.

Kris, you always had a thoughtful comment and were always ready with a perspective I hadn't considered. You were always ready with a smirk, a retort, and a willingness to get lost in a story.

Lizzy, thank you for reading and your wise insights - you have the ability to make me pause and reconsider what I've just written and then write it better the next time.

Adam, thanks for reading, for your comments - your mild horror at some of the scripts, your sharing of ideas. Thanks for believing in one of our scripts enough to produce it.

Lennox, thanks for the constant encouragement; thank you for the enthusiasm and joy you dedicated to reading these scripts.

Darlene, Thank you, thank you, thank you - you showed up a little later into this project but boy did you support it. Thank you for reading, discussing these little stories, thank you for your excitement and the energy that helped power this experiment to the end.

To everyone again, thanks for reading. My blog The Nomad Chronicles comes back online this New Year, so y'all stop by now, y'hear?

366. A Requiem For Those We Love - Leslie

2008-12-31T18:39:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

INT. FORGE - NIGHT

The forge glows orange, flames bouncing off of the large metal shapes that dominate it.

In the center of forge is an iron table, to which IOLA is bound.

She is blindfolded, her large, dark wings held in vises that stretch out on either side of the table.

THE BLACKSMITH, muscle-bound creature with a short, white beard and blueish wings stands above her, grasping a white-hot collar in his tongs.

TWO OTHERS stand by the table, watching; one dressed in an immaculate pin-striped suit, his shoes gleaming like mirrors, the other in a strange, almost ancient-seeming military jacket - his hands glow pure white.

The Blacksmith lowers the collar towards her neck.

The muscles of her wings tremble as she feels the heat descending.

The Blacksmith stops.

THE BLACKSMITH
Are you sure? Are you sure the Morning Star wants this?

PIN-STRIPED MAN
Are you afraid?

THE BLACKSMITH
We've never...killed...one of our own before.

PIN-STRIPED MAN
No one has ever betrayed us before.

THE BLACKSMITH
But to cut her off from Father?

PIN-STRIPED MAN
Watch your tongue. I'm getting sick of this, blacksmith--shall I?

The Blacksmith shakes his head.

PIN-STRIPED MAN
Cut her off. Then take her and chain her in plain sight - so she can watch the mud drinkers she seems to love so much.

The letters etched into the collar seem to slither with ancient darkness.

The Blacksmith's hands tremble as he lowers the burning collar onto Iola's neck.

She screams as metal burns into flesh, her wings spasming. 

IOLA
Daddy!

EXT. SKYSCRAPER ROOF - NIGHT

The hum of machinery is gentle over the sounds of traffic in the streets far below; people rushing to be home with their families or join parties at the center of town.

Iola, her once-beautiful wings tattered, sits on the roof, shivering.

Her ankle is chained to the lightning rod, which rises from the center of the roof.

She is thin, sick, a ghost of who she was.

Along the wall at the edge of the roof are pasted hundreds of pictures - people from around the world, and under each, a flame hovers.

She closes her eyes, and begins chanting.

IOLA
Lacrimosa, Lacrimosa dies illa Qua resurget ex favilla Judicandus homo reus.

The chanting becomes singing - the haunting strains of Mozart's requiem.

There is something unearthly and utterly captivating, about her voice.

It is as if an entire orchestra is forming in the notes she breathes.

She stops, placing her hands together, palms up, struggling, in some strange supplication.

A flame ignites above her palms and she shakes with the exertion.

She continues singing, her voice building, her body shaking - decaying so fast it is almost visible.

In the distance the sounds of a massive crowd carry to the roof.

CROWD
10, 9, 8, 7...

Her song builds to the climax.

CROWD
4, 3, 2, 1!

Fireworks explode as the music climbs to the finale; the crowd cheers and the faces along the wall illuminated as the flames seem to glow brighter for a moment.

She struggles to finish, almost whispering.

IOLA
Dona eis requiem, Amen.

She falls backwards, wings disintegrating as she hits the ground, the flames snuffing themselves out one by one.

She stares upward into the sky, lights bursting overhead and gasps - as if the collar is choking the life from her.

Her breathing slows and her glowing eyes, flicker, the last flames to die.

The faces from the pictures look over her as her eyelids close.

The lights high above her spray her body in colored light as her broken feathers blow away, scattered across the city like so many ashes as the final notes of the requiem die.

FADE TO BLACK.

If you're interested, listen to the Lacrimosa of Mozart's Requiem.

365. The Dollmaker's Heart - Leslie

2008-12-30T23:58:00.000-08:00



FADE IN:

INT. THE DOLLMAKER'S SHOP - NIGHT

The shop is a small, crowded place, filled with strange tools, tubs of miniature clothing of all sorts, spools of hair, and shelves upon shelves of unfinished dolls.

NARRATOR (V.O.)
In a little village, not too far from where you are sitting, lived The Dollmaker. Nobody knew much about him, for they rarely saw him leave his shop. When he did, they knew he would always give a gentle smile, and have some magnificent present for the village children, before he rushed away - and to where? No one knew.

In the corner of the shop there is a sprawling miniature, stretching from wall to wall, complete with forests, rivers, lakes, and a town.

NARRATOR (V.O.)
What no one would ever know, was that the gifts he gave to the village children were mere trifles, the work that stayed within his shop was his true genius. A world for his special creations.

EXT. MINIATURE WORLD: LAKE  - NIGHT

ARIEL, a doll within the tiny world, sits by the lake, digging into the soft dirt.

Beside her rests a small glass jar, gleaming in the starlight.

She looks up, weary, and puts the shovel aside, the hole is deep enough.

Her articulated wrists are covered in small leather bracelets and beaded strings.

She has an impressive mohawk that rises high above her head, and a single strand of spike that is carefully placed in front of each ear.

She wears a dark t-shirt, a skirt, and diamond-patterned fishnet stockings.

Ariel straightens and pulls off her shirt, shiny plastic skin reflecting in the moonlight.

She pulls a tiny latch at the center of her ribcage and her chest opens, like two, small wardrobe doors.

Within her chest, nestled within delicately arched ribs, lies a small, glowing heart.

She reaches inside and pulls it out, placing in the jar, then closes her chest and pulls her shirt back on.

She holds the jar up to the light.

The heart is battered, bits of duct tape and twine holding it together.

She stares at it for a long moment and then places it in the hole, covering it with dirt and patting it down.

She stands and walks woodenly back to the town.

INT. THE DOLLMAKER'S SHOP - NIGHT

THE DOLLMAKER watches sadly, on his stool, perched above his created world.

He watches his world through hundreds of small lenses which descend from his ceiling, each calibrated for a different degree of detail.

EXT. MINIATURE WORLD: ARIEL'S HOUSE - MONTAGE

Ariel sits in the corner of her home, eyes blank, body still as time passes, day into night and back again, never moving, eyes empty.

END MONTAGE

INT. THE DOLLMAKER'S SHOP - NIGHT

The Dollmaker is sitting on his stool again, watching Ariel through one of his glasses.

NARRATOR (V.O.)
The Dollmaker usually left his creations to their own devices, watching, but careful not to interfere too much. But every once in a while...

As he watches, he sees a tiny rat crawl across the apartment, around Ariel's chair, and over her lap, and she does nothing.

He purses his lips, then reaches into his world and taps gently on her door with a finger.

She doesn't move.

He whispers.

THE DOLLMAKER
Little One? Open the door.

She turns, face pallid from weeks of inactivity and stiffly moves to the door.

ARIEL
Why should I open the door?

THE DOLLMAKER
Why did you bury the heart I made for you?

ARIEL
I'm so tired of it breaking. And nothing I tried helped.

THE DOLLMAKER
Would you let me try?

She pauses then opens the door a crack and sees his hand there, waiting.

ARIEL
Alright.

INT. THE DOLLMAKER'S SHOP - NIGHT

The Dollmaker walks to a corner of the room where strange, frightening-looking tools hang.

He pulls off his apron and his shirt, revealing a thick scar that runs down his chest.

He turns to the wall, removing a large knife, and in a smooth, practiced motion takes a breath, then slices his chest open, crying out.

He takes a smaller tool, and reaching into his chest, cuts away a piece of flesh.

He places it in a small jar.

Taking another heavy breath, he cleans his wound and begins stitching closed his wound, his needle tracing a familiar path up his chest.

INT. THE DOLLMAKER'S SHOP - NIGHT

The Dollmaker sits at his work bench, working hard with his tiny tools, crafting a heart from the flesh.

He leans back in his chair, grimacing for a moment with the pain, then relaxes.

He holds the tiny heart up to the light, turns a final screw and it begins to glow.

EXT. MINIATURE WORLD: ARIEL'S HOUSE - DAY

Ariel blinks awake, still in her chair, as sunlight begins to bathe the room.

She looks down, surprised; in her lap is a beautiful leather case.

She opens it carefully and finds the heart, beautiful and brilliant with light.

A small note is attached to the box.

THE DOLLMAKER (V.O.)
Dear One, I cannot promise that it will never break again, but is a safe life worth the emptiness?

She looks around at the cobwebs that have formed around the room and the chair itself, threatening to make their move on her body.

THE DOLLMAKER (V.O.)
Guard your heart, but don't lose it. I can promise that I will always repair it for you. Just ask.

She pulls it out of the box and with just her touch, light pulses from it into her hand, the warmth of life spreading into her face.

She turns upward looking out the window and nods.

INT. THE DOLLMAKER'S SHOP - DAY

The Dollmaker pulls away from his lenses, a smile on his face.

He stands up and walks away, leaving the small world to wake up to a new morning.

FADE TO BLACK.

364. My Dream Girl - Leslie

2008-12-29T23:19:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

INT. AIKO AND STEVEN'S ROOM - MORNING

STEVEN sits in the bed, pulled up to his chest as he watches AIKO wake up.

She turns over, then opens one eye, looking up at him, and smiles.

STEVEN
Hey you, how're you feeling?

AIKO
Not too bad, still have that headache though.

STEVEN
Well, its Tuesday, so Mike'll be here soon. Hey, I'll go get you some breakfast, you just relax there.

AIKO
Thanks babe.

INT. KITCHEN/DINING ROOM ROOM - MOMENTS LATER

Steven pads down the hall into the kitchen in his slippers, whistling softly.

He grabs a tray from the cupboard and starts fixing breakfast, putting a skillet on the stove and tossing tater tots in the oven.

The doorbell rings and he slides over to the front door, spatula in hand.

Opening the door, he waves MIKE, who stands on the porch in jeans and a fleece jacket, inside.

Mike carries an old-fashioned doctor's bag with him.

They walk down the hall.

MIKE
How's she doing?

STEVEN
Still's got the headaches.

MIKE
Well, let's see if we can finally take care of that today. I got some new meds in that I think will be perfect for her.

STEVEN
Mike...

MIKE
She's going to be just fine. We'll get her through this ok? And she'll be better than new.

Steven pulls open the bedroom door and sticks his head in.

STEVEN
Hun? Mike's here, says he has some new drugs for you.

AIKO (OS)
Hey Mike, is it time for me to get high?

MIKE
Be good, Ai.

She laughs.

STEVEN
I'm going to finish breakfast, see you two in a sec.

Mike slips in, closing the door behind him, leaving it open just a crack.

Steven walks the few steps back to the kitchen and checks the skillet's heat.

He turns it down a bit and grabs eggs from the refrigerator.

As he closes the fridge door, he notices that the sink is dirty

He lets out a half-exasperated, half-amused sigh.

STEVEN
Woman, will you ever learn?

He reaches for a dishrag, his hand landing on cold metal.

He looks around, then under the sink, finding nothing.

He heads back up the hallway and pulls open a closet door opposite to the bedroom.

Inside, towels and dish clothes sit, neatly stacked.

AIKO (OS)
Will this be the last upgrade, do you think? I'm pretty tired of the headaches.

MIKE (OS)
I'm hoping.

Steven grabs a dish towel and pauses.

There is a pneumatic hiss and Aiko sighs.

Steven tiptoes to the door and peeks through the crack.

Aiko rests against the bed's backboard, her left arm lying above the sheets, a section of her skin pulled away to reveal small ports into which Mike has plugged several small devices.

Steven stares in horror and backs away, tripping and pushing the door open.

INT. AIKO AND STEVEN'S ROOM - MORNING

Mike and Aiko stare as he tumbles in.

STEVEN
How could you bring that thing in here?

AIKO
Babe, it' me. I'm still Aiko, I haven't changed.

Steven gets up, staring straight at Mike, unable to acknowledge Aiko.

STEVEN
I told you I wanted nothing to do with your love bots.

MIKE (OS)
She's not just a love bot, Steve, she's designed just for you - she not some brainless plastiwhore, I mean, she's as real as they get - more real than most women out there.

STEVEN
Out. Get it out of my room.

AIKO
Baby, please!

The look of horror is locked onto Steven's face.

He stumbles to the bathroom and sounds of him throwing up travel out into the bedroom.

Smoke begins to enter the room from the burning potatoes.

The fire alarm goes off.

INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY

Steven sits on the couch, his fingers tapping angrily on the glass of the coffee table in front of him.

Mike sits next him.

The front door is open and through it, they can see TECHS carefully boxing Aiko.

She is still awake.

AIKO
Steve, please, Steve, I love you. Please, please don't let them take me away. Steve!

STEVEN
How could you have gone specifically against what I wanted Mike? If I wanted some computer programmed to love me, I would have said so.

MIKE
You know she was the only way.

STEVEN
Only way to do what?

MIKE
You know that she was the only way to get what you were looking for.

STEVEN
Everything was perfect, the way we met, her just being so amazingly spontaneous. And it's all fiction. All 1's and 0's.

MIKE
It wasn't made up, you both experienced it - she just happened to be a little more predisposed for it.

STEVEN
Screw you.

A TECH walks in.

TECH
Excuse me sir, I need you to sign the deactivation and memory wipe papers. You'll see that reactivation is available for up to three months after the memory wipe.

STEVEN
Ok.

TECH
Sign here...and here.

Steven places the papers against the glass and signs them.

The Tech takes them back and nods to his coworkers outside.

AIKO
Please Steve, please.

Her voice trails off, then stops, her eyes closing as the techs fiddle with buttons on a small remote.

MIKE
You can still stop them. C'mon! You two were perfect for each other - no one else will ever come that close to making you happy. And you made her happy.

STEVEN
Made her happy? Come on.

He almost chokes on his disgust.

The techs finish sealing the crate and move away, revealing a large logo stamped across the front, reading "My Dream Girl."

Steven crosses his arms and stares away from the open door while Mike watches sadly as the techs roll the crate onto their van and drive away.

FADE TO BLACK.

363. Wind Child - Leslie

2008-12-28T23:55:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

EXT. THE BUSINESS DISTRICT - DAY

JERRY DICHTER makes his way through the press of bodies on the sidewalk, all racing along - a sea of suited bodies flowing in neat waves.

Jerry is almost invisible in the crowd, his neatly tailored suit and handsome briefcase giving him distinguished anonymity.

His face is a mask of professionalism - determined busyness.

A spot of color appears in the crowd as MAKANI enters the flow, pushing opposite of the majority of the crowd - a colorful fish swimming upstream.

She pushes past a group of business people and stops, face to face with Jerry.

He stops, off-balance.

Regaining his balance, he moves to get around her.

She puts out her hand, in a slight, graceful movement halting him.

MAKANI
Are you listening?

JERRY
Are you crazy?

He pushes past her, returning to the anonymity of the crowd, shaking his head.

He puts his head down, checking his watch, his feet moving in measured, quick steps.

He looks up and skids to a stop again.

Makani is again in front of him.

The wind ripples through her hair.

MAKANI
Are you listening?

He attempts to ignore her and skirts around her.

He walks faster, looking straight ahead as if locked into invisible blinders.

He looks behind him and sighs with relief when he sees that she is not following him.

Turning back, he lets out a sharp breath of surprise.

She stands, hands behind her back, the breeze playing with the edge of her skirt as she smiles, cat-like, at him.

The crowd flows around them, water rushing around a rock in a stream.

She moves close to him.

MAKANI
Jerry, are you listening?

He catches sight of her eyes and is transfixed by them.

Her pupils are midnight black, surrounded by irises which flare and pulse with color, like miniature nebulae.

He feels pulled closer in and for a moment sees tiny dots swirl in her pupils, like tiny planets orbiting a dark star.

Jerry is lost, time slowing to a viscous flow.

Makani blinks, looking away, suddenly shy, and Jerry snaps out of it.

JERRY
I'm listening.

She leans closer, whispering.

MAKANI
Take your shoes off Jerry, this is holy ground.

He looks at her for a moment, then reluctantly pulls his shoes off.

He wears one bright orange sock and one striped blue and black sock, their colors joining hers in their flashy protest against the monochromatic mass around them.

He stands, uncomfortable.

She stretches her hand out again.

MAKANI
Close your eyes.

He obeys, reluctantly.

MAKANI
When the wind calls, you will listen, you will follow its voice, and follow it to places you won't want to go, but you will serve, and through that service you'll find a deep joy.

A powerful wind picks up out of nowhere and swirls around Jerry as he opens his eyes.

His irises flare, now swirling with color.

Makani smiles, turns, and is gone, lost in the ocean of black and gray.

Jerry holds his shoes in one hand, the crowd pushing around him.

His face is no longer locked into its former mask but has melted - a deeper emotion than he has ever felt filling his eyes and lips.

The wind blows and he begins walking almost unaware that he is moving again, shoes still in hand.

He realizes what has happened and lets out a loud laugh, then continues walking.

FADE TO BLACK.

362. The Awakening of Emily B. Waterford - Leslie

2008-12-27T23:05:00.000-08:00

This script was inspired by a project I did a few years ago. Please Click on the image to see it in full view.

 

FADE IN:

INT. EMILY'S HOUSE: HALLWAY - DAY

Sunlight spills into the hallway from the living room.

EMILY B. WATERFORD slips out her bedroom wrapped in a soft bathrobe.

She smiles, whistling a bit as she shuffles in her slipper-clad feet towards the bathroom.

INT. EMILY'S HOUSE: BATHROOM - DAY

Emily brushes her teeth, staring absently at the Van Gogh print that hangs on the opposite wall.

The painting is one of the few sources of warmth in the cool, modern bathroom.

She rinses her mouth out, spits into the sink, then pauses as she catches a glimpse of her face in the mirror.

A strange hairline runs down her jawline.

She rolls her eyes.

EMILY
Oh, not again!

She pulls reaches for a bottle of lotion sitting above the sink and liberally applies a large dollop to her face.

She turns to leave without giving her face a second glance.

INT. EMILY'S HOUSE: KITCHEN - DAY

Emily sits at a small breakfast table at the center of the kitchen.

An expensive cookware set hangs on a steel rack above the oven.

The oven's brushed metal surface gleams in the morning sun which is now pouring through a large picture window in the living room.

The rooms are somewhat spartan in their modern minalism, but a well-placed lamp or set of candles provide needed warmth around the space.

Emily sips a cup of coffee, enjoying her view of the city below her through the large window.

She turns and stops, catching sight of her reflection in the oven window.

Putting her mug down, she stands and walks over to the oven, stooping to get a better look.

The hairline crack is still there.

EMILY
Weird.

She touches her face and skin of her cheek lifts slightly away from the line.

Repulsed, she pulls her hand away.

She stares, then touches it again.

More skin pulls away.

She lets out a sharp breath, then almost by compulsion, pulls more.

In a smooth motion her face pulls completely off into her hands.

She looks down at her face, sitting, perfectly formed, like a grotesque mask, in her hands.

EXT. RUINS - DAY

It takes her a moment to realize that her house no longer exists.

The world she knows is gone, replaced by a dirty, destroyed city.

Breathing hard, she gingerly touches her face, horrified at what she might find.

Her face is still intact, soft from a lifetime under the strange mask.

She looks around at the new world around her.

People wander blithely through the wreckage, their eyes blank.

She turns and sees her neighbors sitting in the dirt, making the motions of eating breakfast.

She runs over to them and sees that they too seem to be wearing the odd masks.

She looks down at the mask that is still in her hands.

Grabbing it, she attempts to force it back onto her face, but it does not hold.

She tries again and again as it becomes more and more damaged.

She places it on her face one more time, trying to force it to stretch into place and it tears.

The pieces in her hand, she sits down in the ashes, despondent.

She tosses the torn mask aside and her eyes follow the pieces as they get picked up by the wind, then dashed into the remnants of a brick wall, right next to another mask.

She stands, surprised, as she catches sight of the second torn mask.

She walks towards it and sees another and another forming a crooked line to the horizon.

Emily follows the masks, growing smaller and smaller until she fades into the horizon.

FADE TO BLACK.

361. Don't You Know - Leslie

2008-12-26T23:45:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

INT. HIGH SCHOOL CLASSROOM - DAY

SETH sits at his desk taking notes as MR. SCHNEIDER drones on.

MR. SCHNEIDER
These are the tentpegs of Greek literature, people, take note. The hero, his hubris, the hamartia he commits because of that hubris, his realization that his fate is inescapable, and your katharsis as you receive enlightenment about your own situation. Note it well, folks - this far into the year, you shouldn't have to ask me what all this means.

Seth senses something and looks up.

MEGAN is standing at the narrow window, gesturing at him.

He nods and raises his hand.

She slips out of sight.

MR. SCHNEIDER
Yes, Mr. Hamra?

SETH
May I get a hall pass? I think I ate something that disagreed with me last night, and well...

The other students snicker.

Mr. Schneider sighs.

MR. SCHNEIDER
Alright, Seth - but only because you seem to be paying attention. Hubris?

SETH
An act of imbalance. A person acting in a way, often inspired by arrogance, which places him in a state of imbalance that must be righted.

MR. SCHNEIDER
Good enough.

He fills out the slip and Seth moves forward quickly, hand on his stomach, and takes it from Mr. Schneider.

MR. SCHNEIDER
You really should watch your diet Mr. Hamra; this happens far too often for my comfort.

Seth nods and hurries out of the room.

EXT. HIGH SCHOOL - DAY

Seth comes around a corner of the brick building and finds Megan sitting on of the benches that rest against the wall.

He sits down next to her and she move closer and puts her head on his shoulder.

He takes out his watch and sets the timer for five minutes.

SETH
Last night that bad?

MEGAN
I'm fat and I'm ugly.

SETH
I'd tell you that you're not, because you're not - but I'm tired of saying it and not having you believe me. But you're not.

MEGAN
That's sweet of you.

SETH
He called you fat and ugly and he laughed at you and then you went down on him. Please, don't tell me who "he" is this time.

She wipes her eyes.

MEGAN
You're getting good at this. At least it's not sex.

SETH
I think it is.

MEGAN
Well, thanks for making me feel like a slut now.

SETH
Did I say that? It's just that sex is up here.

He taps his head.

SETH
I mean, you kiss someone the right way and that's sex. Sure it's not all the same, but it's not as clearly defined as any of us want it to be. It's all a big gray...

He waves his hands around.

SETH
I'm sorry. Are you ok?

MEGAN
Not really. I know, I know what you're going to say. Don't. Can we just sit here?

SETH
Ok.

They sit on the bench, fall leaves drifting to the ground around them as the time ticks away.

The timer on the watch buzzes, startling both of them.

Megan pulls away from Seth and stands up.

SETH
You're absolutely beautiful. Maybe one day you'll get that. And the day you get it, everyone else will too.

MEGAN
See, I knew you were going to say something.

Seth shrugs.

MEGAN
Thanks, I'll see you later. And you should probably come up with a better excuse.

He smiles.

She walks away, heading around the corner, pausing, just out of his line of sight, and peeking back at him.

Seth sits on the bench for a moment longer.

His smile fades.

SETH
You're absolutely beautiful. You walk into a room and there's just this way that light wraps around your face. Ah, crap.

He touches the part of his shoulder where her head rested and sits like that for a moment.

Megan watches and lifts her foot to take a step back to the bench, then pauses.

She takes one more look at him, then turns, and slips back towards the entrance as Seth sits lost in thought.

FADE TO BLACK.

360. The Borrowed Coat - Leslie

2008-12-25T22:08:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

INT. THE SPOT SOUP KITCHEN - DAY

The Spot is a small, cafe-like space, with 6 large, circular tables arranged neatly around the room and a few couches in the corners. Each table is decorated with Christmas candles and wreaths.

The room is packed with a variety of homeless people enjoying Christmas dinner.

A serving window connects the dining room with the kitchen, in which several volunteers are busy cooking.

MIRI carefully monitors the turkey and potato wedges cooking in the oven.

She bastes the potatoes with an herb butter mixture, watches for a moment more, then closes the heavy metal door.

A box of clothes sits in a corner of the kitchen.

Miri walks past it, to a stool over which her heavy wool coat is draped and feels around her pockets.

She pulls out her cellphone and checks the time, then absently sticks it into her pants' pocket.

MIRI
Abby?

ABBY, a tall woman busy searing chicken spins around.

Miri jerks her head in the direction of the clothes.

ABBY
Oh, kids from one of the local churches...they're going to stop by and pick 'em up - take 'em to some of the shelters.

MIRI
Ah.

She returns to the potatoes.

The front door of the soup kitchen bursts open and a group of kids, wrapped tight in coats and scarves against the cold.

The weave between the tables, talking and laughing loudly.

FERNANDO, one of the group leaders grabs the box, spilling some onto the floor.

He grabs them and grabs Miri's coat as well, tossing into onto the pile.

FERNANDO
Hey, thanks so much for letting use the space.

ABBY
No problem at all. How's it gone so far?

FERNANDO
Ah, it's been great, great. Some of the kids are going to head off and drop these off at a few places. Thanks again.

Abby and Miri wave and he heads out, the flock of teenagers and young adults following him.

Miri pulls the potatoes and turkey out of the oven, placing them on the serving window counter.

MIRI
Alright, Abs, I'm out.

ABBY
By darling, thanks for stopping by and helping - you and that fantastic turkey you make.

MIRI
You just want me for my turkey.

ABBY
All too true.

Miri heads out of the kitchen and to the front door.

She opens the front door and is hit with a blast of cold air.

MIRI
Oh!

She closes the door and rushes back to the kitchen.

Heading to the stool, she stops short, noticing that her coat isn't there.

She looks around.

MIRI
Hey, has anyone seen my coat.

ABBY
Stool.

MIRI
Nope. I gotta find it - I've got my iPod in the pocket...and my keys! Oh, my keys...shoot!

Abby turns around.

ABBY
Huh...you think that they?

MIRI
Nah, couldn't have, it wasn't close to that box.

ABBY
It was a bit.

Miri waves her hand and turns in a circle, looking.

She walks back into the dining room, searching.

INT. CAR - DAY

The box of clothes bounces along on the backseat of the car, a piece Miri's coat sticking out a few layers from the top.

INT. THE SPOT SOUP KITCHEN - DAY

The Spot is emptying quickly, its patrons bundling up and slipping out into the late afternoon.

Miri and Abby washes dishes in the kitchen.

ABBY
Thanks for sticking around.

She smirks.

MIRI
Not funny.

ABBY
Well, at least Fernando's looking for it.

MIRI
You know, the iPod doesn't really matter that much - I've got all the music on the computer anyway...but the keys. I need my keys. And it's cold! I'm not going out there without that jacket. It's my nice jacket. My hippie jacket from London.

Abby grimaces sympathetically and keeps scrubbing at a pot.

ABBY
You did call him, right?

MIRI
I called - he's looking.

MONTAGE

1. The car comes to a stop and clothes are grabbed from the box, Miri's coat gets shoved aside.

2. Miri sprawls on one of the couches in the now empty soup kitchen. She gets up and searches for the coat a bit, then goes the kitchen and grabs a broom and begins to sweep the dining room.

3. The car speeds off to its new destination, the box somewhat emptier.

4. Miri sits up straight on the couch, the broom leaning against the couch, inspecting her phone, then pacing.

5. The car is stopped in front of another shelter and more clothes are pulled from it.

6. Miri sits on the edge of a tabling staring off into space while Abby sits on the couch reading a magazine.

7. The car pulls into another shelter and the rest of the clothes are pulled out.

END MONTAGE

INT. MIRIAM'S HOUSE WOMEN'S SHELTER - EVENING

Fernando stands in the corner of the shelter lobby speaking quietly into his cell phone.

FERNANDO
Hey, Hey Miri - Yes, this is Fernando. Ok, so I found your coat, but there's a problem.

He looks across the room.

LUCY is wrapped in the coat, enjoying its warmth.

FERNANDO
No, no - it's just that, it was given to someone. Um, I can get it for you.

INT. THE SPOT SOUP KITCHEN - EVENING

Miri sits on the couch, holding the phone sleepily.

MIRI
Oh, no, no, let her keep it. But just one favor.

INT. MIRIAM'S HOUSE WOMEN'S SHELTER - MOMENTS LATER

Fernando approaches Lucy awkwardly.

FERNANDO
Would you mind, um, could I see the coat for a second? I promise, I'll give it back.

She looks at him skeptically.

FERNANDO
I just...there's something in the pockets, um, something that I have to give back to someone.

She just looks at him.

LUCY
Well, I'm not taking it off.

FERNANDO
Umm.

He reaches over gingerly and sticks his hand in one of the pockets - its empty.

He tries the other one, but no luck.

FERNANDO
Is there an inside pocket?

She contemplates for a moment, then slowly opens her coat.

He carefully reaches inside and lets out a sigh of relief as he pulls out a tangle of keys, headphones, and the iPod.

INT. THE SPOT SOUP KITCHEN - MOMENTS LATER

Miri holds the phone to his ear, half listening.

She looks over at Abby, who waits expectantly, and whispers.

MIRI
He's so sweet, he searched all over East LA for that stupid coat.

She smiles as Fernando says something.

MIRI
No, no, it's fine. I'm sorry you had to go searching - thanks so much, I really appreciate it. Ok, goodbye, you have a Merry Christmas too.

She hangs up, slipping the phone into her pocket.

ABBY
So, did he find your jacket, is he bringing it back?

MIRI
Yes, no.

She leans back into the couch cushions and closes her eyes, leaving Abby to stare at her, confused.

FADE TO BLACK.

359. The Belated Apology - Leslie

2008-12-24T23:52:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

INT. COLLEGE BANQUET HALL - EVENING

The banquet hall is packed with people milling around tables, the buzz loud buzz of conversation filling the place.

A sign hangs above the small stage near the front, proclaiming WELCOME HOME ALUMNI!

JACK wanders the tables, searching for familiar faces.

He winds his way through the mass of people and spots an empty table on the edge of the room.

He sits down sideways, head still swiveling to pick out a familiar face.

Hearing someone sit at the table, he turns around.

LIZA is sitting across from him, her name printed in large sharpie letter on her name tag.

She gives him a half smile.

LIZA
Hey Jack.

JACK
Wow...it's been forever.

LIZA
Fifteen years.

JACK
How are things? I heard you'd gotten married to Henry - you guys running a restaurant?

LIZA
We co-own it and I'm the exec chef.

JACK
Wow, that's pretty amazing. Sounds like it worked out well for you - it's what you wanted...exactly.

LIZA
I'm kind of impressed with myself too. You still designing clothes?

JACK
Still doing the fashion thing. Had a runway show in New York two months ago - still tough, but it's getting better.

LIZA
Good to hear you're sticking with it.

They pause awkwardly and Jack looks around.

He looks back, Liza's ring catching his eye.

JACK
How's Henry?

LIZA
He's good, he's good.

They are silent for a while longer.

JACK
I'm sorry, I have to ask. This has been eating away at me since college.

LIZA
Yeah?

JACK
Did I break your heart?

LIZA
Yeah, you did. It wasn't the worst heartbreak I've ever had, wasn't the worst heartbreak at the time, but you did.

JACK
I just...

LIZA
One day everything was ok, the next you couldn't even hold my hand without wincing.

JACK
Yeah, I guess it seemed like it. Internally, I'd been debating for a long time - and I guess one day, I just realized it wasn't working, and then it got really hard.

LIZA
You could have said something, and not tried, badly, to keep things going.

JACK
Man, I must have been the biggest idiot.

LIZA
You were a jerk.

JACK
The more I've thought about it, the worse I've felt. I wanted to be perfect, the perfect nice guy - and instead...

LIZA
You were really sweet, you were the nice guy - you just handled the whole break-up part badly.

JACK
And the worst of it was,

LIZA
That you never said anything and I had to break up with you - and I was still very in love with you. I had to break up for you.

JACK
I really screwed up and I never apologized. I'm so sorry. I really am.

LIZA
It's ok, I got over it - we both learned. At least I did. You better have.

JACK
And keep learning every day.

Liza glances over at the bar on the other side of the room.

LIZA
Hey, Henry's waiting for me. I just wanted to say hi.

JACK
Good seeing you.

LIZA
You too. Hey, chin up. You're still a nice guy. Just, well, you know. But you say you've learned.

JACK
I'm sorry.

LIZA
Bye, Jack.

JACK
Bye.

He watches her go, then turns to the wall and slumps a bit in his chair.

FADE TO BLACK.

358. Fate, Manufactured - Leslie

2008-12-23T23:11:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

EXT. FARMER'S MARKET - DAY

PAUL wanders the rows of stalls idly, inspecting everything from neatly labeled jars of wild honey to sniffing at soy candles.

The market is packed with every type of booth imaginable.

Paul trips over a small pile of postcards, sending them flying.

He looks around, embarrassed, then, assured of his conspicuousness, he reaches down and grabs a card, walking casually away from the mess.

When he's moved far enough away, he looks down to read what he's holding.

It's a simple card, printed on thick, brown, recycled paper. and it reads "Gypsy Market: Catch us if you can".

PAUL
Well, that's silly.

He looks around, then heads to the closest booth and approaches the vendor.

PAUL
Hey, can you tell me where this is? The Gypsy Market?

VENDOR
Sorry, I've got no idea. Maybe if you follow the closest pair of dreads.

PAUL
Heh, thanks.

Paul wanders a bit more, peering at booth titles.

He nears the end of the row of booths and then stops.

A small sign hangs on a streetlight pole
among the usual collection of lost-and-found notices, concert flyers, and random ads.

It reads "Gypsy Market," with a small arrow pointing left.

He heads left, behind booths, cutting behind the rows and rows of vendors.

The booths then and he finds himself at the edge of the farmer's market.

A ring of RVs and caravans are parked in a semi-circle, there at the edge, tables and booths piled full of wares.

Paul smiles and clenches his fist in small gesture of victory.

He enters the semi-circle, one of a few shoppers eyeing the wares.

Several of the shoppers are engaged in loud and cheerful bargaining with the vendors.

He scans the tables an finds a small one covered with votive holders, small lamps, and little figurines crafted out of scrap metal.

He stops to inspect the figurines, which are put together with a surprising amount of skill and intricacy.

KATE, a girl with carefully mismanaged dreads, an exotic looking jacket, and flared jeans covered with well-placed flecks of paint, slips out of the RV directly behind the table and comes up to Paul.

KATE
So you like my little toys?

Paul pauses.

Her accent is a north English one, surprising and beautiful.

PAUL
Eh, they're nice enough.

KATE
Oh, I know you love them - look at you, trying to drive a hard bargain.

PAUL
Like I said, they're ok.

KATE
Ok, mister.

He scans the table, feigning boredom.

PAUL
So what inspired these?

KATE
Oh, a summer of reading Flannery O'Connor and a weird assortment of steampunk lit.

Paul's mask cracks.

KATE
Ah, ha! See. Not only do you love my little creations, you are either a fan of dear old Flannery or steampunk lit.

PAUL
What? I didn't say anything.

KATE
Come off of it.

PAUL
Both.

KATE
Oh, my dear, I have you, don't I?

PAUL
You've utterly destroyed my bargaining position.

KATE
Well, you're cute - and you obviously have good taste, so we'll see what I can do for you.

PAUL
And now you're trying to rush me. I'm still just looking.

She smiles coyly.

PAUL
So when did you discover Flannery?

KATE
A library in Stevensville, Michigan.

PAUL
Visiting family?

KATE
Do I sound American?

PAUL
You could have American family, I'm just saying.

KATE
The caravan was there for a few weeks.

PAUL
Wait, so you guys really are gypsies? I thought maybe this was a cool marketing gag for a store, or just something local. So you don't live anywhere?

KATE
Homeless and couldn't be happier.

PAUL
Wow. So why'd you move to the States?

KATE
What is this, a first date?

PAUL
Oh, sorry, guess I was trying to give you the sixth degree there.

KATE
'Tis alright. Now which piece do you want.

Paul points to a dancer with a gas mask that covers the lower part of her face and nail file blades in either hand.

PAUL
I see the steampunk influence, but the Flannery?

KATE
If I could explain everything about my art or how something influenced it, it wouldn't be art, now would it?

PAUL
Fine. So how much?

KATE
What do you think is fair?

PAUL
You tell me.

KATE
Fifty.

PAUL
Ha! If you noticed, this isn't a gallery show and I'm not Daddy Warbucks - Fifteen.

KATE
See, I had started to like you. Are you delirious? Forty-Five.

PAUL
Twenty.

KATE
Thirty, I'll go no lower.

PAUL
Twenty-Five.

KATE
Thirty-Five.

PAUL
Was nice talking to you.

He begins to walk away.

Kate grimaces.

KATE
Twenty-Seven.

Paul spins around.

PAUL
Done.

He counts out the money.

PAUL
So how much do you usually sell these things for, twenty?

Kate doesn't say anything, but her eyes twinkle as she wraps up the figurine.

PAUL
Figures. So how often do you guys come around the area?

KATE
I don't really know, this is our first time. Maybe we'll be back; maybe we won't. We just go where the wind takes us.

PAUL
Oh.

KATE
I'm sorry.

PAUL
Well, I was going to take you out next time you were in town - but since you won't be, you have some time today?

KATE
Sorry, no - we're leaving as soon as we finish here. But, if I could, I would - like I said, you have good taste.

PAUL
See, we shouldn't leave something like this to chance - you have some kind of contact?

KATE
What better thing to leave to chance? The world is infinitely smaller and larger than you can imagine. If we're supposed to meet again, we will.

PAUL
And what about us making our own fates?

Kate shrugs, smiling, and walks around the table to hand him the figurine.

PAUL
Or maybe you just don't to see me again, eh? Just being nice?

KATE
Maybe it is that only, yea?

PAUL
You really would leave it to fate?

KATE
Life is strange. We'll bump into each other again if we're supposed to. If not, we have these sweet memories.

She hugs him and surprised, he hugs her back.

She steps away.

PAUL
Well, ok, here's to fate then.

KATE
Kate, I'm Kate.

PAUL
Paul, Paul McGrew.

KATE
Be well, Paul.

He walks away from the table and waves, then heads back to the main market, figurine in hand, his face a bemused mix of emotions.

ARI walks over to Kate from his booth.

She's inspecting Paul's business card in her hand.

ARI
Who was that then? And when did you start hugging folk? Did you whip him that badly on the price?

She smiles and waves the business card bearing Paul's name at him.

KATE
He didn't do too bad.

ARI
Oh ho, you are a sneaky one. He was that special, was he?

KATE
I think so, yea.

ARI
What happened to fate? The world being big and small or whatever that crap is you say?

KATE
You can't leave something like this to chance.

ARI
Hypocrite!

She smiles, then leans back against her RV and inspects the card again.

FADE TO BLACK.

357. The Misdirect - Leslie

2008-12-22T21:24:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

EXT. MAIN STREET SIDEWALK - DAY

TIGHE stands in the middle of the sidewalk staring up at a tree growing up out of a planter dividing the path.

Its slender trunk swirls upwards; its smooth, paper-like bark spiraling up towards the branches.

With its small, amber-colored leaves, it could have been pulled straight from a Disney film.

Tighe ponders the tree, slack jawed, not moving a muscle.

People pass him on the sidewalk, paying little or no attention to him - he is a familiar sight.

A Group of TEENAGE BOYS walks up to him, all bravado.

Tighe flinches, pulling away from them, his hands curled at his side, fingers feeling at the air.

BOY 1
Hey, what's up in that tree, Tighe? What's so interesting?

BOY 2
I betcha he's looking for the shortbus.

BOY 1
Is that what you're looking for? Aren't you a little big for the shortbus?

The boys laugh, attracting DENNIS' attention.

He makes a beeline for them.

DENNIS
Hey, leave him alone, go on!

The boys walk away, sneering and laughing.

DENNIS
Hey Tighe, c'mon man; you've been staring at that tree for as long as I can remember. Maybe it's time to find another tree.

Tighe barely reacts, blinking fast.

DENNIS
You keep this up, people are going to think you're slow.

He chuckles.

Tighe's phone suddenly rings, startling both of them--a cheerful, electronic polka.

He reaches for his pocket, trying to get to it.

Dennis watches awkwardly, moving in to help, then back away.

The phone stops ringing.

Tighe looks at Dennis with his half-empty eyes.

TIGHE
Gotta go, gotta go.

He moves away with surprising speed, his stride jerky, his hands clenching and unclenching, head tilted to the side.

EXT. TIGHE'S HOUSE - DAY

The street on which Tighe's house is lined with trees that hide the slightly decrepit state of the neighborhood.

He rounds the corner, his tilted gait identifying him from a ways off.

He gets to his house and walks up the sidewalk, fumbling for his keys.

He finds them and gets the door open, sliding inside.

INT. TIGHE'S HOUSE: ENTRANCE - DAY

The house is simple; it doesn't appear to have been re-decorated since the 70s.

Tighe makes his way down the single hallway and halfway down the hall, his shoulders relax and his eyes clear.

He shuffles into his bedroom.

INT. TIGHE'S HOUSE: BEDROOM - DAY

His fists clench and unclenching, Tighe walks to his desk and sits, carefully.

The room is filled with beautiful sketches, drawings, and paintings of the tree from every angle imaginable.

Where there aren't paintings, there are bookshelves packed with classics.

He leans over, painfully removing colored pencils from a drawer and flips open a sketchpad.

Reaching over to a cd player perched at the edge of the desk, he punches the play button, and the sounds of Mendelssohn fill the room.

He smiles, his lips splitting in a strange grimace, then bends over the sketchbook and begins a new version of the tree.

FADE TO BLACK.

356. Joy - Leslie

2008-12-21T23:15:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

EXT. PORCH - NIGHT

LEE sits on the broad porch of a California bungalow-style house.

The porch wraps around the front and side of the house, its wooden floor glowing orange from the lamps within the house, their comfortable light spreading out from the large picture windows that run parallel to the porch.

The street on which the house sits radiates warmth and safety, its houses displaying neatly arranged Christmas lights in addition to an assortment of antique-looking street lamps.

Many of the houses have their own unique lamps, all spilling orange warmth onto the street; some hanging above porches, some above gates, which serve more for show than any essential purpose.

Lee wobbles back in forth in one of the wicker rocking chairs scattered around the porch.

A small tape recorder sits in his lap.

He takes a breath and hits play.

JOY (V.O.)
Hola, darling; this is me, Joy.

He stops the tape, rewinds.

JOY (V.O.)
Hola, darling; this is me, Joy.

He stops it and looks out over the street, shivering.

He pulls his coat and scarf tighter as a stiff breeze pulls dead leaves from the trees lining the street.

Inside the house, Lee's brother, DAVE watches from one of the windows.

He purses his lips and heads to the door, only to be restrained by ALI, his wife.

They wait, concerned, watching Lee through the window.

He presses the play button again.

JOY (V.O.)
I'm so sorry, baby - I didn't want to go this way. Make sure you're on the porch when you play this - I love how - I loved how - is it weird for me to speak about myself in the past tense? I know, you're getting upset now; I shouldn't take this so lightly. I loved how the neighborhood looked at night. That's how a neighborhood should look, inviting, safe. I miss you already. I can hear you in the kitchen right now and I'm wondering what you will do when you find me. I can't joke anymore, not really - and I think that's when it's over. This is all wrong, but I don't know what else I can do. If not now, then my pet monster will take over my brain, and all the treatments will turn me into a living skeleton. There's no need for that. I don't want you to see me like that. So, so I'm going to go now. I'm going to hit stop on this thing, and I'm going to go. I love you, babe. We didn't get enough time together, did we? Next time, ok? We'll do it right next time.

Lee slumps, then hits rewind and waits.

The tape clicks to a stop.

JOY (V.O.)
Hola, darling; this is me, Joy.

He stops it, hits rewind again, then play.

JOY (V.O.)
Hola, darling; this is me, Joy.

He stops it and rewinds again.

FADE TO BLACK.

355. The Starlight Coast - Leslie

2008-12-20T21:49:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

INT. AMTRAK COAST STARLIGHT TRAIN - DAY

WILL wanders into the observation car of the train, marveling at the southern Californian coastline.

He slides into a seat next to the massive window and stares as the train races north.

He begins to doze off.

LEANN walks into car and looks around for a free seat; she spots the seat next to Will and heads towards it.

She stops in the aisle, leaning over to tap Will on the shoulder.

He blinks sleepily.

WILL
Ehm?

LEANN
Hey, would you mind me sitting next to you?

WILL
Hmm? Oh, no, no, that's fine.

She slides into the seat next to him and slips off her jacket, revealing a short-sleeved blouse with intricate button work.

Cherry blossoms are tattooed across her right shoulder, the petals spilling onto her biceps.

Will admires them.

WILL
Is spring your favorite season?

LEANN
Oh, no. I'm melancholy, and I think by definition we love fall - it's in our nature. The most bittersweet of seasons. I just need to remember, every once in a while, that spring is coming.

WILL
Cool. I'm a fall guy too.

LEANN
I suspected. I always daydream about meeting cool, like-minded strangers on the train. It doesn't happen nearly as much as it should. Thankfully, you were here today.

WILL
Well, I'm flattered. You travel the rails much?

LEANN
The rails?

WILL
Yeah, maybe shouldn't have said that out loud.

LEANN
It's ok. I live in Portland, but I do a lot of gallery shows in LA. It'd probably be faster to fly - well, I know it would, but trains, I'm completely in love with trains.

WILL
Oh, me too. Lived in Germany for a summer, was completely amazed at how easy it was to get around. Promised myself I'd use public transport as much as I could when I got back here.

LEANN
A man after my own heart.

They smile at each other.

LEANN
Oh, look! This is one of my favorite parts of the coast.

WILL
You do do this a lot.

LEANN
Oh yeah.

WILL
It's beautiful.

They watch out the window for a while in awe.

Will relaxes into his sit again, content in the quiet.

LEANN
This might be a bit forward, sorry - would you mind if I used your shoulder as a pillow?

WILL
No problem.

LEANN
Thanks dashing train stranger.

Will opens his mouth, attempting to find a response, then gives up.

He gestures to his shoulder.

WILL
All yours.

She puts her head down on his shoulder and he looks back outside at the world racing by.

FADE TO BLACK.

354. A Tomaszewski Christmas - Leslie

2008-12-19T23:01:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

EXT. WARSAW OLD TOWN (STARE MIASTO) - DAY

ABEL walks the edges of the Old Town's market square, staring up in awe at the colorfully painted buildings that ring the cobblestoned area.

He is so lost in the world above him that he doesn't notice KSENIA barreling towards him on her bike - and she, distracted by the the bags she is trying to balance on the bike.

Abel steps right into her path and she slams into him sending the two of them sprawling.

He scrambles up.

ABEL
Prosze...eh...przepraszam? Ehm...

Ksenia sits up.

KSENIA
It's ok, I speak English.

ABEL
I'm really sorry.

Ksenia shrugs.

Abel rushes to help her put her bags back in order.

She stands, righting her bike.

ABEL
Where are you going? I can help.

KSENIA
Just there.

She points to a small shop at the end of the square.

Abel hoists the bags and they walk across the cobbles, Ksenia pushing her bike.

She parks the bike in front of the shop and Abel hands her the bag.

ABEL
Sorry again.

KSENIA
No problem.

She takes a closer look at him.

ABEL
Have a good day.

He begins to head off.

KSENIA
Wait, you - are you here in Warszawa alone?

ABEL
Yeah, just traveling around for my vacation.

Ksenia tsks and shakes her head.

KSENIA
Come, have dinner with my family. It's no good to be alone for Christmas.

ABEL
It's not Christmas today.

She tilts her head.

KSENIA
Of course - it is the whole...

She waves her hands searching for words.

KSENIA
The whole season, the season is Christmas, it is Advent. Come.

ABEL
Well, when you use that tone of voice.

KSENIA
What?

ABEL
Nevermind.

She opens the door, grabbing the bags from him and shoos him in.

INT. TOMASZEWSKI FAMILY STORE - DAY

She closes the door behind her and pushes Abel to the back of the store to a flight of stairs.

They head up the stairs to first floor of the residence.

INT. TOMASZEWSKI DINING ROOM - DAY

They enter a large, comfortable living room/dining room area.

MR. and MRS. TOMASZEWSKI and GRANDMA TOMSZEWSKI are seated around the dining room table.

Mrs. Tomaszewski is a thin, open-faced woman, Mr. Tomaszewski a thick man with strong hands, and Grandma, a small woman with a face that is filled with stories.

Ksenia drops her bags.

KSENIA
Czesc!

MR. TOMASZEWSKI
Czesc Ksenia!

She turns to Abel.

KSENIA
To Jest...

She looks at Abel quizzically.

ABEL
Abel, Abel Martyn.

KSENIA
To jest Abel. Abel, this is my Baba, my Mama, and that's Babcia. I am Ksenia, Ksenia Tomaszewski.

She points to her father, mother, and grandmother.

Abel waves.

ABEL
Dzien Dobry.

The grandmother smiles broadly and thumps the chair next to her.

MR. TOMASZEWSKI
Come, come.

They sit and in a moment, Abel has a large bowl of soup in front of him.

He eats, savoring the warm food as the family around him laughs and talks.

MRS. TOMASZEWSKI
Soup with, eh...grzybowa i kapusniak.

She motions with her hands.

KSENIA
Wild mushrooms and cabbage.

ABEL
It's really good...dobra, dobra.

The family beams.

MR. TOMASZEWSKI
Dessert, sernik i makowiec!

He grins.

KSENIA
Cheesecake and poppy seed rolls.

ABEL
Oh wow.

MONTAGE

They eat, moving from soup to smoked salmon, cabbage salad, and roasted chicken.

Abel is surrounded by a swirl of polish words and food.

END MONTAGE

When they are finished, Mrs. Tomaszewski bustles about clearing the table and replacing the main course with the dessert.

Abel samples the cheesecake and rolls while the family expectantly watches.

ABEL
Oh, wow, that's really amazing. Dobra!

They laugh and smile, launching into their own helpings.

Abel finishes the cheesecake and stands.

ABEL
Thank you very much, dziekuje. It was amazing. I'm sorry, I have to get going.

Mr. Tomaszewski stands and claps Abel firmly on the shoulder, shaking his hand.

Abel shakes Mrs. Tomaszewski's hand and Grandma waves him over, planting a wet kiss on his cheek - he grins at her and she flutters her eyelashes.

KSENIA
Babcia!

Abel moves to the door.

KSENIA
Tch, I take you. Where are you staying?

ABEL
Ehm, right across the river, on Florianska street.

KSENIA
Oh, it is, as you say, the bad side of the tracks.

ABEL
Or river in this case. Well, the hotel price is right.

KSENIA
Ok, I take you.

ABEL
Thanks.

KSENIA
Baba?

MR. TOMASZEWSKI
Oh? Oh!

He pulls keys from his pocket and hands them to Ksenia.

KSENIA
Come on.

ABEL
Thank you again!

MR. TOMASZEWSKI
Welcome, welcome.

ABEL
Bye, eh, do widzenia?

MRS. TOMASZEWSKI
Do widzenia!

They wave and Abel and Ksenia head down the stairs.

EXT. TOMASZEWSKI ALLEY - DAY

Ksenia pulls a scooter onto the small alley behind the house and gets it started.

She hands a helmet to Abel.

ABEL
How about you?

KSENIA
I'm ok. Get on.

He obeys and they speed off, her hair blowing behind her.

MONTAGE

They ride through the square, exiting the old city across the Slasko Dajbrowski bridge that straddles the Vistula river.

They cross the bridge, the skyline shimmering behind them.

They enter the more modern part of the city, ancient cathedrals dotting the gray, communist architecture that dominates this part of the city.

They wind through small streets until they reach Abel's hotel, a warm-looking five story building near a movie theater in the slowly gentrifying neighborhood.

END MONTAGE

Abel hops of the bike and hands Ksenia the helmet.

ABEL
Thanks - that was a pretty amazing lunch. It was nice to be around people again.

KSENIA
Yes, you need at least one good meal during Christmas. Otherwise...pffft.

ABEL
Thanks.

KSENIA
Ah, now you can go back to your friends in America and tell them about the, hot, hot yes? The hot girl you seduced on Christmas, no?

Abel blushes.

ABEL
Ehm, no, not really my style. I will tell them about the beautiful polish girl who I nearly killed and who repaid me with a great meal.

Ksenia laughs.

KSENIA
You have a merry Christmas Abel Martyn.

ABEL
And you too, Ksenia, Tomas, Tomaszewski.

She smiles, pats him on the cheek and speeds off.

He looks after her for a moment after she is gone, then smiles, shakes his head, and heads into the hotel.

FADE TO BLACK.

353. And There Was Light - Leslie

2008-12-18T23:20:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

EXT. SKI SLOPE - EARLY MORNING

The sun hasn't quite risen yet, the orange glow at the horizon hinting at its arrival.

TERRANCE and ANI snowboard down the mountain, little lights strapped to their goggles illuminating the virgin snow ahead of them.

Ani speeds up and pops a simple Ollie, her backpack bouncing against her back.

TERRANCE
Careful!

ANI
You worry too much.

TERRANCE
And with good reason, I don't want to be stuck here without getting a little buzzed for goodness sakes.

They coast over a hill and the view opens up before them, a massive city ringing the far end lake below.

It glows orange.

As Ani and Terrance move closer, they can see that buildings across the city are on fire.

They slow, reaching a level patch of snow.

ANI
Perfect - and a great view.

TERRANCE
Amazing...I remember coming here as a kid with my Mom, it was all forest and now, look at it.

ANI
Going back to forest?

TERRANCE
Yeah, probably.

Ani pulls off her pack and pulls a picnic cloth out, then removes a Champagne bottle wrapped in cloth and two flutes.

ANI
See, just fine.

They sit, watching the city as the fire crawls along the lakeside.

The sun peeps over the horizon.

A distant rumbling begins, echoing off the slopes around them.

TERRANCE
Here we go.

He pours champagne into the glasses and hands one to her.

ANI
You wish you were going?

TERRANCE
Who doesn't?

ANI
You knew you didn't have a chance, right?

TERRANCE
I know.

ANI
Just checking.

The rumble grows to a soft roar.

TERRANCE
My writing wasn't going to get me onto one of those ships - the brightest minds? Ha! 15 billion people, and they say they'll pick the brightest minds.

ANI
More like the best-lined pockets.

A column of smoke rises fast in the distance, followed by more and more, until the horizon is obscured by pillars of orange smoke and flame racing into space.

TERRANCE
There they go.

ANI
To the old world.

She raises her glass.

Terrance raises his and theirs meets with a soft 'clink.'

TERRANCE
To a new world.

Massive silos doors at the far side of the lake slide open, three miles in width and much deeper.

There is a deafening roar and one by one, massive space craft scream into the air, escaping the bounds of earth for the first and last time.

Dozens fill the air around the city.

ANI
To the best and brightest.

TERRANCE
So what do we do now?

ANI
Fight a war or two...

TERRANCE
Maybe we can actually change the way this place works.

ANI
And people will listen to us because?

TERRANCE
Maybe they won't, but it's worth a try.

ANI
Is it?

TERRANCE
They'll probably kill us.

ANI
Probably.

Terrance finishes his champagne and stands, the vibrations rattling his snowboard.

Ani packs the backpack and stands, slinging the backpack back onto her shoulders.

ANI
So?

TERRANCE
It's like another chance at creation - let's go get killed.

She looks over at him.

ANI
Are we really serious? We're clueless - why not stay up here? They're tearing each other apart down there.

TERRANCE
Maybe it's our turn to have our voice heard. I don't know where we start, but I think we should.

A ship blasts out of the ground at the base of the mountain and they begin sliding.

Snow begins tumbling past them.

ANI
Oh. Guess the mountain's telling us it's time to go.

She looks over at him and sees his face is wet with tears.

ANI
Ok, ok, let's do this.

They race down the mountain, a newly-birthed avalanche at their heels.

FADE TO BLACK.

352. Haiku - Songs of Stolen Glances

2008-12-17T00:34:00.000-08:00



1.
Coils of hair, rich brown
A whisper of a smile, wise
Ever so sexy.

2.
Lost deep in fiction
Hers, a watercolored face
Speed-blurred pastel lips.

3.
Lane Bryant beauty,
Goddess on the cold metro
Tosses me a smile.

351. The List - Leslie

2008-12-16T20:49:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

INT. SAM'S APARTMENT - EVENING

SAM's studio is neatly decorated with a variety of shelves, a hammock in the corner, and a desk with his laptop and a mess of cables, put half-heartedly in some kind of order, that lead to his exterior hard drives.

The walls are covered with his framed sketches and paintings of beautiful, stylized women.

Sam sits on a bar stool, a small art desk angled up in front of him, a pencil sketch waiting.

A collection of fine-tipped colored pens sits on his knee.

The door bell rings.

SAM
It's open.

He doesn't waver, still intent on his bristol pad, a blue pen hovering above the sketch.

MARK sticks his head in, the enters, closing the door behind him.

MARK
Oh, nice, I haven't seen some of the new ones.

He scans the wall.

SAM
Yeah.

MARK
Sam? Sam? C'mon man, we gotta get you outta here, meet some real girls.

SAM
I'm good.

MARK
Seriously, dude. Look, it's not my style, but I got you a blind date for tonight. You're going to love her.

SAM
Really, I'm good.

MARK
Scared she won't match up to your ladies?

SAM
She won't.

MARK
You're clutching that list so tightly to your chest that you're never going to give yourself a chance to meet someone who could be even better than you imagined.

SAM
Not gonna happen.

He begins inking in the sketch, his new woman's hair turning a vibrant aquamarine.

MARK
They're just pigment and stiff paper, canvas, whatever. C'mon - I may not be able to find you the perfect girl, but I betcha I can find the girl you can reach perfection with.

SAM
You've been planning to say that for a while?

MARK
Even practiced on the way over.

Sam spins around to face Mark for the first time.

SAM
I appreciate the effort. You go take her out, she won't know the difference, I'm good.

MARK
Sam...

SAM
Mark.

MARK
Man, ugh! I, grrr.

SAM
Oh oops, am I pushing your buttons?

MARK
I just don't understand how you can just not try - how can you know you won't find something special - someone - without trying?

SAM
I've tried.

MARK
So why give up, man...there are so many possibilities, why just quit?

SAM
Look, I'm quite happy.

MARK
You're settling. Not the way you think you will if you end up with flesh and blood, but you are settling. You're giving away your chance to meet someone who might...

He waves his finger at the wall of illustrations.

MARK
Who might be as good as one of your woman; maybe even match up to your list.

SAM
Thanks for the pep talk.

He spins back to his desk.

MARK
She's an awesome writer - has always wanted to meet an artist. Says she loves how you guys see the world in a unique way. And you know she's right  - you have this amazing ability to see beauty in every person you bump into.

Sam spins back around, tempted.

He pauses, then looks over at his shoulder at the sketch and infatuation creeps back into his eyes.

He spins back to the sketch and hunches over his pen case, looking for the right shade.

SAM
I'm good. Enjoy your date - sounds like you two will hit it off. Look, you're already completing her sentences.

Mark lets out an exasperated sigh and waits, hoping Sam will change his mind.

He waits for another moment, but Sam is hunched over carefully inking his sketch.

Mark's shoulders relax and shaking his head, he turns and slips back out the door, closing it quietly behind himself.

Sam is lost in his work, smiling back at the graphite smile of the woman in front of him.

FADE TO BLACK.

350. Seasonal Malady - Leslie

2008-12-15T23:18:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

TITLE - ACT 1: SPRING

EXT. PARK BENCH - DAY

SETH sits on the bench doing quick sketches of feet as visitors to the park pass him.

He wears cargo pants, a sweater under a half-unzipped coat, and a cap tucked sideways onto his head.

The bench sits at the perimeter, touching the park fence, giving Seth a great view of the park itself.

A group of street musicians plays just in front of the fence, a DRUMMER pounding softly on a set of upside down buckets, while a MANDOLIN PLAYER and GUITARIST strum and sing.

EXT. PARK BENCH - DAY

MIA sits on the bench, her head buried in her sketch book.

She has her hair in dreads; a small top hat perched neatly on her head; a sweater with flowing sleeves; and a dark, asymmetrical skirt from which appears pin-striped slacks.

She sees a THIN WOMAN in a turtleneck sweater and jeans and quickly sketches the woman, redesigning her clothes into a strange, fantastical outfit.

The band plays a cheerful tune outside the fence.

EXT. PARK BENCH - DAY

The band is busy playing for passerbys on the sidewalk that runs parallel to the park's fence.

Seth sits on the bench, dressed in jeans and a turtleneck.

He is busy sketching and does not notice at first when Mia walks down the sidewalk and perches on the opposite side of the bench.

She sets patch-covered messenger bag on the cement in front of her and removes her sketchpad.

She steals a glance at Seth and pauses.

Tilting her head she begins sketching him.

Seth feels Mia's eyes on him and waits a moment before stealing his own glance.

He freezes for a second.

She is wearing a page-boy cap, and a vaguely north-Asian sweater that is closed diagonally across her chest with little wooden pegs.

He recovers quickly and looks away, then takes another glance and begins sketching.

They sit on opposite sides of the bench, stealing alternating glances and sketching.

EXT. PARK BENCH - DAY

Seth sits on the bench, nodding his head to the music of street musicians and attempting to sketch a landscape of the park.

His pencil hovers and darts, but nothing is coming.

He sighs looks up at sky, then back down at his sketchbook.

Finally, Seth flips to the page he started a while ago, the unfinished sketch of Mia's hands drawing.

TITLE - ACT 1: SUMMER

EXT. PARK BENCH - DAY

Mia sits cross-legged on the bench, her loose skirt flowing around her feet, nodding to the street musicians' lively music.

She flips through her sketch book, looking through her work, then stops as she comes to the page with her portrait of Seth.

She digs around her bag for a pencil, then begins touching up the shading.

The mandolin player stops playing and turns around.

Mia jerks around has he taps her shoulder, his arm stretched through the fence rails.

He tips his hat at her and hands her a piece of paper, rolled into a scroll and tied with a simple burgundy ribbon.

He nods his head at Seth's side of the bench and smiles.

She looks at him puzzled, then turns around and unrolls the scroll and finds a beautiful rendering of her hands sketching.

She puts it down in her lap and looks back at the mandolin player, but he has already turned his back and begun to play.

She looks back down at her notebook, then rips out the page with Seth's portrait.

EXT. PARK BENCH - DAY

Seth sits on the bench, his hands folded.

The mandolin player looks back, smirks, then returns to playing.

Seth is so lost in thought, he almost doesn't notice the mandolin player's tapping.

When he does turn around, he finds a scroll wrapped in burgundy ribbon pointed at his face.

He takes the paper and tries to look calm, but his fumbling fingers betray him.

He finally gets the scroll open and pulls it open.

It's a drawing of him in the thin, leggy style of fashion sketches.

He rolls it back up and leans back into the wood of the bench and smiles.

EXT. PARK BENCH - DAY

Seth and Mia sit on opposite sides of the bench, sketching.

Seth scoots towards her just a bit, then pauses, and continues drawing.

Mia scoots a bit closer to him.

TITLE - ACT 3: AUTUMN

EXT. PARK BENCH - DAY

Seth and Mia sit next to each other, holding hands.

He points at a child running merrily and they laugh, sketching away with their free hands.

Mia taps her pencil in time with the band.

EXT. PARK BENCH - DAY

Seth and Mia sit on the bench, his arm around her shoulder, her head tucked into his as they watch people pass.

A warm Indian summer breeze plays with Mia's hair.

The mandolin player dances a jig as the guitarist plays a solo.

EXT. PARK BENCH - DAY

Seth and Mia sit on the bench, scarves wrapped around their necks to shield from the cold as they sketch.

They sit apart, their hands just slightly touching.

Autumn leaves fall in waves across the park, whispering their own elegies in ripples of sound.

The street musicians play a melancholy tune.

TITLE - ACT 3: WINTER

EXT. PARK BENCH - DAY

Seth and Mia are bundled tightly against the cold as they draw.

They sit at opposite ends of the bench, just their fingers touching.

The street musicians are gone, the park empty except for a few brave joggers.

Mia pulls her hand away from Seth's.

He doesn't notice.

She watches his face, then stands up.

He is lost in his world.

Her lips tighten and she walks away.

EXT. PARK BENCH - DAY

Seth sits on the bench, alone, drawing.

He looks over at Mia's side of the bench and his shoulders sink.

He looks back at his sketchbook, then straightens his shoulders determined.

The mandolin player walks up to the fence and leaning back, begins to play.

EXT. PARK BENCH - DAY

Mia sits, her little top hat perched on her dreads, alone on the bench, drawing holiday shoppers as they rush through the park, arms full of gifts.

The street musicians play Christmas tunes on the sidewalk.

She looks over at Seth's side of the bench for a long moment, then returns to her sketching.

Seth approaches the bench, moving quietly.

He puts his backpack down on the bench and Mia looks up.

She stands up to leave and Seth holds up a hand, pleading for just a moment.

She waits, standing.

He pulls a scroll wrapped in burgundy ribbon from the backpack and hands it to her.

She hesitates, then takes it.

He removes another scroll, and then another, and another, until she is struggling to hold them all.

She puts them down on the bench and begins opening them, one by one.

They are all pictures of her, her fingers, her eyes, her lips, her face.

She sits, overwhelmed for a moment, then reaches into her bag as he stands, nervously.

She pulls her sketchbook out and hands it to him.

He flips it open and page after page is filled with sketches of him.

He looks at her, then at the bench, and carefully sits down.

She sits down to and the look at each other for a moment.

She smiles and takes his hand, pulling him to the middle of the bench.

She kisses him, half-opened scrolls spilling across the park path.

They lean back, his arm around her shoulders, watching the shoppers in their mad pre-Christmas rush.

FADE TO BLACK.

TITLE - FIN

349. Renewable Resource - Leslie

2008-12-14T22:07:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

EXT. BASE CAMP - DAY

TRU, GREG, LISA, and ADAM sit around the craft services table, surrounded by film crew members on lunch break.

GREG
Man, sometimes it sucks being veggie, film sets are hit and miss for food.

TRU
Whine, whine, whine.

LISA
Nah, it's true, I mean, I'm not a complete vegetarian...

ADAM
A flexitarian.

LISA
Whatever, but yeah, it'd be nice if they made it easier for veggies on set. Well, consistently anyway.

Adam yawns.

TRU
We boring you?

ADAM
Meh, who really cares? Let's talk about politics or religion.

GREG
Ha, you really do want to see us fight don't you?

ADAM
Eh, it'd be entertaining. Tru's agnostic, I'm going straight to hell and I don't really care, Lisa, care to add your status? Your state of belief.

GREG
Seriously? I'd much rather discuss braising a pig...

LISA
I'm sure you would. Well, you know...we can link food and religion. I mean...ok, so I'm not vegetarian, but I don't think humans were made to be omnivores - we're herbivores. I believe we were created and our bodies were designed to be renewed.

Tru nods, interested and Adam rolls his eyes slightly.

Greg mimics Tru's nodding.

Lisa looks at Greg and raises an eyebrow.

LISA
You, you agree with me.

GREG
Excuse me?

LISA
You're a Christian - I saw that flash of something, and you're sitting there and nodding like I'm saying something very fascinating and very new. It ain't new to you. Don't do that. Don't play that game. If you believe, act like it - otherwise, your faith is worth nothing.

Adam smiles and leans back.

Lisa stands.

LISA
Excuse me, I'm going to go check on the talent.

She grabs her walkie talkie and heads off.

Tru slips out of her chair.

Adam sits, still smirking.

Tru grabs his arm and pulls him away.

ADAM
What? What?

Greg sits in his chair, looking a little lost as the crew swirls around him.

FADE TO BLACK.

348. Stranger - Leslie

2008-12-13T23:56:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

INT. CHURCH LOBBY - DAY

RICHARD, dressed in a crisply pressed shirt, khakhi pants, a perfectly matched tie, and shiny dress shoes, stands at the breakfast table, listening to the music coming from inside the sanctuary.

He looks over at the table, contemplating the bagels, then at his watch.

He sighs.

RICHARD
Guess it's that time.

TED, a homeless man dressed in ragged plaid and holey sneakers pushes open the door nearest to the breakfast table and walks toward Richard.

Ted's beard is flecked with unidentifiable bits of food and Richard works hard at not backing up as Ted approaches him.

Ted barely looks up, mumbling.

TED
Could I get a bagel for my friend out there? Eddie, Eddie's ashamed to come in. Doesn't use drugs, doesn't do nuthin'. I told him the food was ok for him to have. Church people wouldn't mind, but he's ashamed.

RICHARD
Sure, that's fine.

Richard moves aside to let Ted get to the table, then glances at the man's hands and reconsiders.

RICHARD
Here, I'll get you that bagel. Does he want it toasted, cream cheese?

TED
Just plain with cream cheese is fine. Knows the Bible better than anyone I know, Eddie does, but he's ashamed.

Richard cuts a bagel and slathers it with cream cheese.

He puts it on a plate and places a muffin next to it.

RICHARD
Yogurt?

TED
No, no...doesn't trust those packaged things, Eddie doesn't.

Richard hands him the plate, trying not to shudder as their hands touch.

Ted looks up at him for the first time.

TED
You think I didn't notice?

RICHARD
Excuse me?

TED
You'll get to Him on that day and you'll say, "Lord, Lord, I fed poor, smelly Eddie, I gave Ted the plate, Lord" and He'll say, "Get out, I don't know you, never did."

Ted holds his gaze with Richard until Richard looks away.

Ted turns to shuffle away and Richard rushes, faster than he'd like to the sanctuary, pulling open the door and letting the strains of music free for a moment, before closing the door behind him.

FADE TO BLACK.

347. Stranded - Leslie

2008-12-12T22:06:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

EXT. CITY SQUARE - LATE AFTERNOON

ALI sits on one of the benches that rings the square, her well-traveled backpack, sitting next to her.

The backpack, covered with patches and a small Union Jack, sits taller than her.

Her eyes are ringed with a light layer of eye-liner, just enough to attract attention without being overplayed.

She looks out over the cobblestones of the square, her eye's half-empty - there is a distance in her gaze.

Tourists criss-cross the square snapping pictures and talking loudly and those to whom the square is a piece of national heritage avoid the interlopers with no small amount of condescension.

Ali reaches around her neck and yanks at a cloth strap wrapped around her neck.

With a little effort, she pulls a small pouch out from it's hiding place under her shirt and opens it.

She pulls a one-way ticket stub from New York to London from the pouch, then her American passport, worn and beaten from hard use.

She feels around the pouch, her fingers searching earnestly.

All she discovers are a few Euro coins.

She looks one more time, but the result is no different.

A MAN IN A COWBOY HAT walks past, devouring a pack of large french fries he's bought from the McDonald's whose garish sign mars the ancient square.

Ali stares after him, eyes fixed the food.

She digs into her pockets, searching for more, but they are empty, save for a pen and some scraps of paper.

She sits back, exhaling hard.

Biting her lip, Ali looks around, the light of the fading sun playing with her hair.

A group of tourists approaches and she looks at them, then away, then at them again.

They come closer.

She flinches, then closes her eyes for a moment.

Ali opens her eyes and holds her hand out.

ALI
Hey guys, could you just spare a little change?

They pass, some tossing looks of pity back at her, and she slumps.

Another tourist approaches, she braces, then holds her hand out again.

FADE TO BLACK.

346. Haiku - Moving Songs

2008-12-11T18:42:00.000-08:00



1.
She wears the same shoes
She's been wearing for five years
Holding memories.

2.
This empty room filled
With invisible moments
Tucked between boxes.

3.
One last walk through, sigh
Run a finger across wall
Now leave, don't look back.

345. The Perfect Tree - Leslie

2008-12-10T10:46:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

EXT. CHRISTMAS TREE LOT - DAY

JAMIE and SVEN walk, holding hands down one of the narrow aisles of trees, followed closely by AARON.

They are wrapped in scarves and coats are drawn tight against the cold breeze.

AARON
Oh, look at this tree, I think it's the straightest one here. You guys should grab this one.

Jamie and Sven smile at each other and keep walking.

AARON
Or this one. Look how full the needles are.

They keep walking, turning a corner and heading down another aisle.

AARON
I don't like any of these.

SVEN
Jamie, do you hear a faint buzzing behind you?

JAMIE
I don't hear anything, where'd Aaron go?

AARON
Very funny, you two. Seriously, what are  you looking for? The ones back there were perfect.

SVEN
We'll know it when we see it.

They turn another corner and begin walking down.

AARON
Oh look, the branches on this one are nice and stiff, good for hanging ornaments from.

They keep walking.

Aaron shakes his head and decides to just be quiet.

They come to the end of the row.

Jamie turns to Sven and nods, smiling

AARON
Uh?

The tree in front of them is misshapen, its branches drooping sadly, the top branches crooked.

JAMIE
This is it.

AARON
You kidding?

SVEN
Not in the slightest. It's our Christmas tradition. We pick the un-likeliest tree in the lot. Just our quiet statement.

AARON
That's pretty loud.

They chuckle, admiring the unsightliest tree in the lot.

FADE TO BLACK.

344. And If, Perchance, We Meet - Leslie

2008-12-09T23:36:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

INT. BACKSTAGE - NIGHT

ADRIAN wanders down the backstage hallways, his tux loose, shirt unbuttoned at the top, his tie slung untied around his collar.

The hall is lined with large mirrors that stretch down the walls, separated by thin patches of pinstripe-wall-papered patches of concrete.

He rounds the corner and comes to a full stop.

DARYA is standing by one of the mirrors, her face millimeters from the surface, eyes half closed.

She has a small, round face, a nose that turns up just slightly, and lips parted and she breathes onto the mirror, watching the fog of her breath grow across the glass.

She is casually elegant, with her hair is tied into a bun, teardrop earrings spinning down to her shoulders, the thin straps of her dark tank top criss-crossing her back, and a  faux fur-rimmed jacket around her elbows.

Adrian backs up to the corner and tries to watch surreptitiously.

Darya watches the fog disappear with a smile, then blows again, lost in her own world.

Adrian watches, enchanted.

She steps back and draws a pattern in the misted mirror.

Adrian pulls back a bit and bumps into the edge of the mirror behind him.

He winces in pain and stumbles.

Darya looks up at the sound, catching Adrian.

She stands up straighter, embarrassed, then smiles.

Adrian pulls back, then decides against it, and pulls himself away from the wall, trying to look somewhat dignified.

He walks towards her and her smile fades.

ADRIAN
Hi.

DARYA
No, just keep on walking.

ADRIAN
What?

DARYA
Just keep going; I'm just the girl you brushed past in the hall who you dream about for a few weeks, then forget.

ADRIAN
I was just going to suggest coffee or something - nothing that serious.

Footsteps ring down the hall.

DARYA
Quick! Keep going.

Adrian walks past.

RICK strides around the corner which Adrian was hiding behind just moments before.

His tux fits crisply against his muscular frame.

RICK
There you are! You're always slipping away.

He kisses her firmly.

Adrian turns back as Rick pulls Darya away.

She turns her head and Adrian is captured by her lips, her eyes.

There is a flash of recognition on her face and she nods, ever so slightly.

Adrian watches the two disappear around the corner.

He shakes his head and walks forward again.

Running a hand through his hair, he pulls the tie off completely, and takes one more look down the hall, then rounds the opposite corner and disappears.

FADE TO BLACK.

343. Fathers and Daughters - Leslie

2008-12-08T23:20:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

INT. MASTER BEDROOM - AFTERNOON

MATTHEW sits at the edge of his bed, a pair of dress shoes on his knees.

LUCY, his daughter, sits on the bed next to him, another pair of shoes on her knees, trying to look as much like him as possible.

A little table sits in front of them, Matthew's shoe-shine kit and a glass with a little water neatly laid out on the wooden surface.

Matthew grabs a can of shoe polish and pops it open, laying the top back on the table.

MATTHEW
Alright, now watch carefully. You put just a drop of water in the top, like this.

He pours water from the glass into the metal tin.

He grabs a well-worn rag from his hit and taking the wax in one hand he applies wax in a smooth circular motion to the rag.

Lucy grabs a smaller tin of black wax and quickly copies his action.

Her motion is unpracticed and jerky.

MATTHEW
Smoothly, smoothly. Little circles like this. Ok, good, now see, you have enough? Dip it into the water, just a drop.

He takes his cloth, the waxed-up section wrapped around his finger, and dabs it carefully into the water.

A small, perfectly round droplet stands sits on the wax.

MATTHEW
See, this is how you do a spit-shine.

Lucy watches, carefully, quietly.

He takes the cloth and begins applying it to his left shoe in the same smooth, round motion.

Lucy copies him.

The scuffed, shiny surface of the shoes go to a dull, matte, black.

They work quietly, Lucy following his every motion, polishing the exact same parts of her shoe as he.

He finishes the left shoe and places it on the table and begins on the right shoe.

He looks over as Lucy begins her new shoe.

MATTHEW
There! You're getting it. Just like my father taught me.

LUCY
How old were you?

MATTHEW
Oh, I think I was your age.

Lucy looks at him and wrinkles her nose, trying to imagine him as a nine-year old.

MATTHEW
Can't see it can you?

He pokes her with an elbow and she giggles.

MATTHEW
Your grandfather taught me well. When I was a teenager, I worked at a barbershop shining shoes for the guys getting haircuts. Mr. Oglesby's barbershop...

He keeps polishing quietly, lost in memories.

LUCY
You're gonna make me work at a barbershop?

He pokes her again.

MATTHEW
Only if you want.

They finish their shoes.

MATTHEW
Ok, here's the fun part.

He grabs the left shoe and a thick, black brush, and begins brushing the shoe vigorously in strong, choppy motions.

Lucy giggles.

Matthew chuckles at the odd motion.

MATTHEW
You try it.

Lucy grabs her left shoe and begins brushing in exaggerated motions.

They laugh and he mimics her.

MATTHEW
Look, look, you see that?

As they brush, the matte color of the shoes transforms into a clean, shiny, reflective black.

LUCY
Ohhh.

MATTHEW
This is my favorite part. Careful there, don't miss the back. Good, good.

Lucy scoots closer to him and he smiles at her.

They sit, brushing and laughing in the afternoon sun.

FADE TO BLACK.

342. The Midnight Visitor - Leslie

2008-12-07T23:18:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

INT. NATHAN'S ATTIC OFFICE - NIGHT

NATHAN sits at his desk, staring off into space, a blank sketch pad in front of him.

Street lights toss warm light into the room through the large bay window that sits perpendicular to him.

Vintage art deco and soviet posters cover the wall over the desk.

He ponders a print of Alphonse Mucha's "Les Saisons" hanging to the left of his desk.

To his left sits a dusty easel.

ADRIANA (O.S.)
Hiya Nate.

He jerks his head right.

Adriana sits on the bay window ledge, a teddy bear hanging from one hand, a book, open and and on fire in the other hand.

Flames lick the pages, but even though Nathan can feel the heat, they don't seem to be burning.

She is dressed in a black crinoline skirt, a ribbed corset covers a white spaghetti-strapped tanktop, and fingerless black lace gloves that run up to her biceps.

He stares.

She waves.

ADRIANA
Hi.

NATHAN
I don't think I'm going to bother asking how you got in here; but who are you?

ADRIANA
Oh, that's not really important. I'm here with a message.

She walks over to him.

Nathan leans away from the flames.

NATHAN
How are you not burning yourself?

She smiles at him.

ADRIANA
It's time.

NATHAN
Excuse me?

ADRIANA
When you were five years old, you made a promise that whatever God asked of you when you were all grownup, you would do.

NATHAN
Are you kidding me? I was five years - I wasn't serious.

ADRIANA
Oh, you were dead serious.

NATHAN
So, now He comes calling? That's not fair, I mean, I have a whole life ahead of me. Now I'm supposed to run off and be a monk? Pull the John the Crazy Baptist act?

ADRIANA
YYou know what you have to do.

NATHAN
I'm not an artist, you know I'm terrible at it.I just go through the motions.

ADRIANA
I've heard otherwise. You have the ability to change an entire worldview with one image. You curse God when you refuse to use that gift.

NATHAN
I'm no one, just lil' ol' Nathan. And I'm a terrible person, a jerk, really.

ADRIANA
I've worked with worse.

She holds the book out towards him and he leans further back.

ADRIANA
Take a page.

NATHAN
No way!

ADRIANA
Take it.

He shakes his head.

She catches his eye and he can't look away.

ADRIANA
Take it.

He reaches out, his hand shaking, turning his face away from the heat.

His fingers dart forward, then back.

NATHAN
It's too hot.

She just looks at him.

He takes a breath and reaches inside the flames, yelling in pain as he rips a page out.

He pulls his hand away, then stops.

He looks in amazement at his hand, which is free of any blisters or burns.

The page is gone, but a strange circle of symbols has appeared between his thumb and forefinger.

ADRIANA
You know what you're supposed to do.

She walks back to the window, turns, and smiles at him.

She turns back to the window and then blows away, her body disintegrating to ash in the evening breeze.

Nathan watches in awe, then looks at the mark on his hand again.

He pinches it, wipes at it, then stops and looks over at the dusty easel, then back down to his sketchpad.

He pulls open a draw and pulls out a well-bitten micron pen, dusty with disuse.

Smiling a little, he puts pen to paper and begins to draw.

FADE TO BLACK.

341. A Song for Alys - Leslie

2008-12-06T22:49:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

EXT. THE HALL OF MORNING - DAY

ALYS's eyes open, gently at first and then grow wider and wider as she feels the sensation of falling.

She hits the richly marbled floor of the Hall facing the massive skylights above.

The rich blue sky through the glass above is thick with stars despite triple suns burning brightly in the day sky.

She scrambles to her feet.

She is dressed in a loose skirt and sandals, a bike helmet loosely attached to her head.

She pulls off the helmet, dark hair spilling out.

The Hall is lined with deep grottoes and it stretches so far it seems to disappear into its own artificial horizon.

Alys spins around, trying to get her bearings.

A low, beautiful hum travels slowly through the halls.

PERSEPHONE slips out of one grottoes - an androgynous being whose face is shaded by a thick hood.

PERSEPHONE
Hello, Alys.

Alys spins around again.

ALYS
Whoa, big creepy dude...dude? I swear, I'm not here on purpose, I think I slipped or something, I uh, really, not here to steal something. I would never come here to do that. Speaking of here, where is here?

Persephone steps closer, completely dwarfing Alys.

PERSEPHONE
Welcome to the Hall of Morning.

ALYS
I mean, it's a bit gloomy, but no reason to cry...is there?

PERSEPHONE
The earliest period of day, not the act of sorrow.

ALYS
Oh, morning. But where exactly is it? I mean, this is ancient and massive, I should know about this right? I mean, I'm not the brightest cookie cutter in the box, but I do love my history.

PERSEPHONE
The where is a bit inconsequential.

ALYS
Not really. I kind of think it's important to me. Did you kidnap me? I mean, the whole hood certainly plays into the creepy kidnapper vibe. What's your name? If you have some kidnapper name, I swear, if you have a catchy three letter initial, I'm going to scream.

PERSEPHONE
I am Persephone.

ALYS
The Greek demi-goddess? Really?

PERSEPHONE
The Greeks got close at times, but what they didn't know could have filled galaxies. Universes in fact.

ALYS
Obviously this line of questioning  isn't working.

PERSEPHONE
Walk with me.

Persephone glides down the hallway and Alys rushes to catch up.

ALYS
So why is this called the Hall of Morning?

PERSEPHONE
This is where the Morning Stars wait.

ALYS
Where exactly?

PERSEPHONE
Look.

Persephone points into one of the grottoes.

Alys walks forward and looks in.

She gasps.

Inside is a massive being with with transparent wings wrapped around its chest.

The wings pulse with light and energy.

Its eyes are closed.

ALYS
What are they waiting for?

PERSEPHONE
For someone to finish The Song.

ALYS
The song?

PERSEPHONE
When The Weaver strung together the universes, they sang a new song. They sang on the first morning when your Father and Mother first breathed. But they have been silenced. Their song hangs, unfinished.

ALYS
The humming?

PERSEPHONE
The last note they sang.

ALYS
How long ago was that? I mean, it's still humming through the halls. Are the young earth people right? Please tell me they aren't - you're breaking too many paradigms as it is right now.

PERSEPHONE
Oh child, you humans have nothing to measure how ancient that single note is.

They walk further, through patches of sunlight, Alys peeking into the grottoes and shaking her head in wonder.

ALYS
Wait, you said the song would be finished. Who is going to finish it?

PERSEPHONE
You are.

ALYS
Excuse me?

PERSEPHONE
The children of the dark planet. One day you will all join the Weaver in these halls. One day the shield from your galaxy will be removed and you will join the universes once again. You will know the end of the song. Only you.

ALYS
Wow, and here I thought we were just puny little humans.

PERSEPHONE
You were given the Gift and only you understand enough to finish the song.

ALYS
To finish what the morning began. Wow.

PERSEPHONE
It is a great honor.

ALYS
Seems like a bit of an understatement there.

PERSEPHONE
Perhaps my dear, perhaps.

ALYS
I'm not going home, am I?

PERSEPHONE
One day darling, but first, you will have to sleep, just a little while.

They stop in front of a grotto.

ALYS
Do I?

PERSEPHONE
Just for a little while.

Alys steps into the grotto, and webs of light appear for a brief instant, encasing her.

Her eyes widen for a moment and then they close.

Persephone watches for a moment, then glides away down the hall.

EXT. CITY STREET - DAY

Traffic is stopped as people gather around Alys' still body.

Her bike lies a few feet away; her helmet is crushed.

THOMAS, a strong-looking man, stands over her weeping.

THOMAS
I just didn't see her, I should have seen her, but I didn't, I just didn't. Oh, God.

A WOMAN stands up, taking her hand off Alys neck and shakes her head.

Sirens shriek in the distance as they close in.

Thomas buries his head in hands.

FADE TO BLACK.

340. Haiku - Christmas Tree Songs

2008-12-06T02:35:00.000-08:00



1.
Welcome to my world
Memories captured in glass balls
And wrapped in tinsel.

2.
Pine-scented needles
Crushed softly into carpet
Smells just like winter.

3.
Wrap, re-wrap those bows
Spin lights 'round the evergreen
Glowing firefly seeds.

339. The Death of Alice - Leslie

2008-12-04T23:27:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

INT. DOROTHY'S CORNER - DAY

DOROTHY'S CORNER, a small Silver Lake bookshop is crowded with people all focused intently on KAY, a small Asian woman sitting cross-legged on the floor in the center of the shop, a book in her lap.

The audience is primarily women, but a few men dot the crowd, including Hank, who listens thoughtfully.

Her baby face stands out in sharp contrast with the full tattoo sleeves that cover both arms.

She adjusts the mic, then continues reading.

KAY
"But let me tell you a secret, allow me to confess something. Alice died in Wonderland a long time ago. She bled out on a cold floor, surrounded by invisible, uncaring strangers - and as the interlaced patterns on the tile blurred, she smiled."

Kay pauses then lets out a small breath; she looks up.

KAY
Thank you.

The audience cheers loudly and she stands and gives a small bow.

Hank works his way through the people crowded around her, and waits as an ADORING WOMAN poses for a picture with her.

ADORING WOMAN
Oh thank you, thank you. I can't tell you how much your book really spoke to me.

KAY
I'm so glad, thank you.

The woman moves away and Hank pounces on the gap in fans to push his way through.

HANK
Hey, I'm Hank.

KAY
Hi, Hank. So, how'd you manage to find your way here? Not really the demographic I usually draw. Wife or girlfriend drag you here?

HANK
Single, and I wanted to come. Hadn't read your stuff, hadn't heard of you to be honest, but read about the even online and thought it was something I really wanted to attend. I'm glad I came.

KAY
Good.

HANK
Hey, I know this is random and spur of the moment, but could I take you out to dinner?

Kay, pauses, takes a step back, and inspects him, up and down, then smiles a little.

KAY
Ok. Where to?

HANK
You up for walking a few blocks?

KAY
You know, I really like that idea.

HANK
I would just like to point out that I could be anybody, and I mean...maybe this isn't the best idea.

KAY
Well, that's what my mace and my little toy gun are for.

HANK
Alright then.

KAY
Let's go.

HANK
Don't you have to say goodbyes?

KAY
Goodbye everyone! Happy? Let's go.

They head out of the book store, Kay pausing occasionally to shake someone's hand.

They finally push their way out onto the street.

EXT. FOUNTAIN STREET - DAY

They begin walking east along the street.

KAY
So my stuff doesn't scare you? I swear I've seen it send guys into convulsions.

HANK
Why would it scare me?

KAY
Um, I think I've been described by reviewers as "rabidly feminist," "a ball-crusher," "fearlessly forwarding the female revolution," should I go on?

HANK
Are you any of those things?

KAY
Hardly a "ball-crusher," maybe rabidly feminist. Well, rabid is such a strong word.

HANK
Yeah, well, I'm a pretty rabid feminist at times. Nothing wrong with that. Nothing wrong with strong women as well. As long as that strong is balanced. It's people who tilt to extremes in everything that scare me. Or don't temper strength with gentleness.

KAY
That's a mouthful.

HANK
Eh...

Kay grins at him.

KAY
So why'd you ask me out? Something about ball-crushing turn you on?

HANK
I'm thinking, not so much...

KAY
So...?

HANK
I have a fondness for Alice and a deeper fondness for people who write about her.

KAY
It's my tattoos, isn't it?

HANK
God, yes.

KAY
I'm flattered.

They walk in silence for a bit.

HANK
Hey, we're getting close. I should have asked, do you like vegan?

KAY
Only if it's down well.

HANK
Good enough.

KAY
What frightens you?

HANK
Excuse me.

KAY
Simple enough question.

They come to a stop in front of "Teddy's Pub and Vegan Grill."

HANK
Mediocrity. I don't want to be rich or famous, I just want to do what I do well. I want to be the guy The Guy depends on. Or The Woman for that matter. The middle scares me.

KAY
Yeah.

HANK
Why do you ask?

KAY
Well, if we take this any further, I'd like to do it with someone who understands my fears.

HANK
And?

KAY
Let's go have some grilled vegan.

Hank smiles, genuflects, and opens the door for her.

They walk in, and the door swings shut with a slow, pneumatic hiss.

FADE TO BLACK.

338. Threads of Skin - Leslie

2008-12-03T17:20:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

INT. MANHATTAN BEACH BOARDWALK - DAY

BLAKE leans against the railing looking out over the ocean.

TIM stands next to him, people watching.

A BRUNETTE walks past them and almost on cue, they turn, primal instincts triggering a reaction.

Her lips are pressed tight together and she is biting the inside of her lip ever so slightly.

She moves away from every person who passes her, just barely, but with enough force to see as if a magnet was repelling her.

Tim looks over at Blake.

Blake has gone expressionless.

TIM
Oh, for goodness sake. You and fragile girls.

BLAKE
She was so fragile. Like the slightest brush of a hand would make her dissolve into ash. It's as if she's already broken into millions of tiny pieces, just barely held together by threads of skin.

TIM
You know, it's almost pornographic the way you fetishize women in pain.

BLAKE
I don't fetishize. I'm constantly intrigued. Because the strength it takes to hold yourself together, just barely, is amazing to me.

TIM
Huh...it's more like you get some kind of odd joy...not sadistic, but still, some odd joy from that kind of pain. It's really disturbing.


BLAKE
You know I don't get pleasure out of it. There is an emotion I experience. I can't name it, there are thousands of emotions without names - they'll never have names. And yeah, this one shares some of the twinges of...joy, but it's not joy. It's bittersweetness....for lack of anything else. There are strands of joy and pain and sickness all pulled tight together. I, I'm not making much sense am I?

TIM
I'm sure you are to someone out there.

Blake turns back to the ocean and Tim to the sidewalk.

FADE TO BLACK.

337. The Things We Hide - Leslie

2008-12-02T22:13:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

INT. JORDAN AND SCOTT'S APARTMENT, LIVING ROOM - DAY

JORDAN bursts through the front door, arms loaded with groceries.

EVAN's head snaps around, then back to his computer monitor.

He fumbles with the mouse, then gives up, slamming a finger into the monitor's power button.

The monitor goes black with a loud, electronic sigh.

EVAN
I, uh...man, I'm sick of this computer crashing.

JORDAN
Yeah.

Jordan disappears into the kitchen.

He reappears after a moment, entering the living carefully.

Sliding onto the couch, he takes a good breath.

JORDAN
I'm sorry.

EVAN
Uh, what?

JORDAN
I know the guy rule says you don't mention anything and act as if nothing just happened, but you know I know.

Evan is silent.

JORDAN
Man, I struggle with the same stuff. And it's not just a boredom thing. I fight this every day. I could use the support and I guess you could too.

EVAN
Look...

JORDAN
Nah, don't say anything, just think about it. I know you well enough to believe that we're in about the same boat. I know what it feels like, that itch sets in, and you just need it scratched, it just sinks its teeth in. Hmm...that's a mixed metaphor if I ever heard one.

He scratches his head.

JORDAN
The point is, I get it. And you're fighting for dear life, and nothing's working. So let's try helping each other out.

He stands.

JORDAN
I, I uh, I'm going to go unpack the groceries Ok? It'll take me a bit.

He walks back into the kitchen.

Evan watches him go, then lets out a long, shaky breath.

He turns to the computer and puts his finger on the monitor's power button.

He holds his breath for a moment, then shakes his head and hits the computer's reset button with his toe.

FADE TO BLACK.

336. Another Night in Paradise - Leslie

2008-12-01T23:56:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

INT. #2 BUS SUNSET BLVD - NIGHT

The bus pulls alongside the curb and its doors hiss open.

WILL steps onto the bus, shrugging his sagging backpack into a more comfortable position on his back.

He plays around with his left earphone, trying to get it to sit more comfortably while he counts out five quarters from his pocket and slides them into the electronic cash box.

The box beeps and the box takes off with a lurch as Will walks carefully to an empty seat and collapses with a sigh into the seat.

The bus is half-empty, a COUPLE in quiet conversation at the front, and a few denizens of the homeless community scattered around the seats.

LUCKY sits in the back, her yellow hair spilling around her face.

MRS. MILLICENT PETTIGREW watches Will skeptically from behind her massive purple sunglasses, the rims of which are two large, perfect circles which dwarf her already diminutive face.

Will glances at her quickly out out of the side of his eye and tries not to smile.

She is dressed head to toe in purple, from her glasses, to her velvety coat, to her lavender sneakers; her purse is a large affair, made of clear, purple plastic.

The bus slides into the next stop.

The doors hiss open and ANGIE D'AMATO steps onboard.

She is dressed in a loose t-shirt under a half-open zip-up sweatshirt, pajama bottoms, and house slippers.

She scans the bus seats, then picks a seat in the middle.

Turning around she waves at the people beyond her.

ANGIE
Hey rock stars! It's another night in paradise. What's good? Nothing better to do than ride the buses.

LUCKY
It's a tough town.

ANGIE
Tell me about it, sister. Where you coming from?

LUCKY
House of Blues.

ANGIE
Nice. You know Arnold Schwarzenegger?

LUCKY
He's the governor now.

ANGIE
Yeah, I met him a few years ago there. He was nice enough, kept hitting on the bartenders though.

Will surreptitiously slips an earphone out in order to listen closer.

LUCKY
Hey, you seem nice enough...could I get your number? I could use a girlfriend.

ANGIE
Sure, friends are hard to come by.

LUCKY
Yeah, I just don't really have any, so, you know, it'd be nice to have someone to call up.

She slips out of her seat.

She wears a cheap, clingy black dress with a sequined belt pushed low on her hip, and walks skillfully to Angie's seat in her black stilettos.

ANGIE
323-555-6745. Just give me a call whenever, you know. What's your name?

LUCKY
Lucky.

ANGIE
Oh! I like that. I'm Angie.

LUCKY
Yeah, it's hard meeting good people.

ANGIE
Yeah! But I know why.

LUCKY
Why?

ANGIE
It's Hollywood!

The two break out in loud laughter.

LUCKY
You meet some crazy people out here.

ANGIE
Tell me about it. I was at a girlfriend's place and some dude offered $1,000 to the girl who would shave his beard and pubic hair?

LUCKY
God...

ANGIE
Yeah, I'd do that. No sex though.

The TIRED MAN sitting in front of them jerks his head up.

LUCKY
Man, I'd step all over him and whip him if some guy would pay.

He giggles in disbelief - the women ignore him.

ANGIE
Nah, you gotta draw a line. Shaving, yeah...the rest of that stuff, just gets too messy.

LUCKY
I got offered a ton of money to beat the crap out of a guy and leave him in the desert.

ANGIE
Seriously?

LUCKY
Yeah, but that brings up bad stuff. I left my husband because he was beating on me. I didn't go down easy though, not like a lot of women. I fought back.

ANGIE
Me too! I met my husband after a car accident.

LUCKY
How's that?

ANGIE
I came here to act, used to get in accidents with fancy cars in West Hollywood. You get out and act all sorry, but maybe you meet a producer or something, you never know.

LUCKY
So did it ever work for you?

ANGIE
Nah, just got me a husband.

LUCKY
And he beat you.

ANGIE
Yeah, but I didn't go down easy either. I got sick of my head getting bashed into a wall and fought back. Served time for that.

LUCKY
But why? That's self defense.

The bus begins to slow.

ANGIE
Yeah, but when it's on an airplane and the stewardesses have to restrain you and you get kicked off...

LUCKY
Ohhhh.

The bus stops and the doors squeal open.

Will glances back at the women, at his watch, back at the women, then sighs, pops his headphones back in, and stands.

He nods to the driver and gets off the bus.

FADE TO BLACK.

335. The Painted Lady - Leslie

2008-11-30T10:30:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

INT. THE CLIFFSIDE - DAY

The Cliffside is a cafe that lives up to its name.

Perched on the edge of a beach-side cliff, it gives its patrons a generous view of the ocean through the massive picture windows on the side of the building that hangs precariously over the cliff.

ELEANOR sits at a table by one of the windows, sipping a deliciously colored fruit concoction.

She looks like she could have stepped out of a Good Housekeeping magazine from 1954, a flawless red luncheon dress and a matching red carnation tucked behind into her perfectly coiffed her, except for the fact that her upper torso is completely covered in colorful tattoos.

A small silver ball protrudes above the left side of her mouth, an artificial beauty-mark.

NATHAN, a young boy, no more than nine years old walks past with GINGER, his mother in tow.

He tries to whisper to his mother.

NATHAN
Look at the painted lady mom!

Eleanor laughs and Ginger turns red.

GINGER
Shhh. Apologize to the nice lady.

ELEANOR
Oh no, it's fine. You can come closer. See, they all tell stories.

Nathan pulls his mom forward to look.

GINGER
I'm really sorry.

ELEANOR
Hey, are you about to order something?

GINGER
Yeah...

ELEANOR
I can keep an eye on him while you order.

Ginger eyes her cautiously.

GINGER
Would you?

ELEANOR
Sure, it'd be my pleasure.

Ginger lets go of his hand and Nathan ambles forward, shamelessly inspecting the tattoos as he gets closer.

GINGER
Thanks.

She hurries off to stand in line.

Eleanor pats the seat beside her.

ELEANOR
Here, I'll tell you one of the stories. Pick one.

Nathan looks over the tattoos and jabs a finger at a small dragonfly wrapped in strange runes - a rose seems to grow from its torso upward.

NATHAN
What's that story?

ELEANOR
Well, once up on time, a young dragonfly prince was traveling to a far away land, for he was in search of a beautiful princess to be his companion. And one day, many months into traveling, he entered the might kingdom of the bee queen. He was granted an audience with her and told her of his quest. At the audience was the Queen's exceedingly beautiful daughter and the Queen noticed that the young prince and her daughter had fallen madly in love with a single glance. She promised her daughter's hand in marriage, if only he could finish three difficult missions for her.

Ginger returns from the counter.

GINGER
Thanks so much for watching him.

Nathan snaps out of his story-induced stupor.

NATHAN
But she's not done!

GINGER
Give the nice lady a rest Nate-darling.

ELEANOR
Next time you come, we'll finish it, ok?

Ginger is already pulling him away, hot chocolate-to-go in one hand, and the keys to her car already in hand.

Nathan turns back.

NATHAN
Ok!

He leaves the cafe, smiling.

Eleanor smiles back.

RICH, one of the guys behind the bar yells out.

RICH
Your clock start ticking faster?

ELEANOR
You need to just hush, Rich. Just because I like kids...

RICH
Uh huh...

ELEANOR
Exactly, Shhhh! I could get used to this painted lady thing.

FADE TO BLACK.

334. Mara's Muse - Leslie

2008-11-29T23:05:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

INT. ALEX'S BEDROOM - NIGHT

ALEX sits at his laptop, fingers hovering above the keys.

He sighs and taps the desk, thinking.

There's a large rap at the window and he jumps.


He shakes his head and opens the window.

MARA'S MUSE crawls through the window, all skirts and fishnets, somehow managing to seem dignified the entire time.

MARA'S MUSE
Hey Alex!

ALEX
I was hoping you weren't going to show up.

MARA'S MUSE
Dear boy, of course I was going to.

ALEX
It would be nice, just for once, to fall for someone without you showing up. I was going to really go someplace with this story, someplace new - different.

MARA'S MUSE
You hadn't even started.

ALEX
It would be nice, for once, to just enjoy the butterflies, the buzz, without you coming through the window.

MARA'S MUSE
But I'm Mara's Muse.

ALEX
Yes, yes, yes - goddess of all that is bittersweet. I know, I know.

MARA'S MUSE
Technically, I'm not a goddess. And you know very well you couldn't enjoy the butterflies without me.

ALEX
Sure...

MARA'S MUSE
Well, aren't you going to get me a seat?

Alex jerks his hand over his shoulder indicating an empty chair by the wall.

She shakes her head chidingly and pulls the chair over to him.

She sits down primly and peers at the blank screen.

ALEX
Do you have to look over my shoulder?

She ignores him.

ALEX
Fine.

MARA'S MUSE
You know you love me.

Alex takes a deep breath and unexpectedly, his eyes fill with tears.

He smiles, takes a shaky breath.

ALEX
Ah, there's that feeling.

MARA'S MUSE
Lungs get tight, room closes in, everything's painfully beautiful and hideous all at the same time.

ALEX
You know what you do. You don't need to brag about it.

MARA'S MUSE
You ready?

ALEX
Yeah.

MARA'S MUSE
Well, get started then, darling.

He closes his eyes for a moment, steadies himself, then begins typing.

FADE TO BLACK.

333. Infinite Worlds - Leslie

2008-11-28T22:42:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

INT. WESTHAM PUBLIC LIBRARY - NIGHT

SCOTT walks through the glass doors of the library.

He strides past the the front desk.

AMELIA sits behind the desk, small, square glasses perched on her nose, just behind a small nose ring which sparkles under the fluorescent lights.

She watches him pass, then calls out.

AMELIA
Hey, welcome to the doorway infinite worlds.

Her voice comes out just above a whisper, a little softer than she ended.

Scott turns around.

SCOTT
Sorry.

She clears her throat, embarrassed.

AMELIA
Eh, I said "Welcome to the doorway to infinite worlds." It sounded so much better in my head, I promise.

Scott steps up to the counter.

SCOTT
Well, I appreciate the welcome. That's exactly what this is though, isn't it? You can step to the edge and pick a thousand worlds to explore.

AMELIA
Infinite worlds.

SCOTT
Right, right. I've been in love with books since I was a kid. I don't get here nearly enough.

AMELIA
But you always come at the same time. Um, I mean, I've loved books all my life too. I couldn't imagine doing anything else than working in a place full of books.

SCOTT
Wait, you're not going to get off the hook that easily. You mean you've noticed me every time I've come here? Flattering, but kind of stalker-y, no?

AMELIA
You haven't noticed me?

She tries to sound flirty.

Scott shrugs and she pauses and looks down at her feet for a second.

SCOTT
Hey, when does your shift end?

AMELIA
Eleven.

SCOTT
Well, I always thought your nose-ring was ridiculously cute, well, you too, I, uh, guess...so why don't you come find me when you're done. I'll be somewhere around modern Mexican lit. Maybe we can have coffee or something.

AMELIA
Hey, you can't get off that easy either. I thought you didn't notice me.

SCOTT
I didn't say that.

AMELIA
You shrugged.

SCOTT
And?

AMELIA
You're going to be difficult aren't you.

SCOTT
See, look at this, we already have witty banter; I predict good things. So?

AMELIA
Did you ever feel caught up in the drama of romance as a kid. Everything felt so urgent and deep and painful and beautiful?

SCOTT
I think that's a little personal. We're only now acting as if we notice each other.

Just answer the question.

Yeah, yeah I did. Wish I still felt like that. Wish something that romantic and urgent would happen to me. It'll never happen quite that way will it?

AMELIA
Ah, you make your own romance. 11.

SCOTT
So I'm approved?

AMELIA
Just go read your Octavio Paz or whoever it is you're tracking down.

SCOTT
Yes Ma'am.

He backs up, a little grin on his face.

She smiles back at him, self-consciously touching her nose ring.

AMELIA
Welcome to the portal...a portal that will open up an infinite universe of possibilities for you./li>
SCOTT
Still probably sounded better in your head, didn't it?

AMELIA
Oh, get out.

He bows, then turns and disappears into the stacks.

She watches him, bites her lip, smiling and unconsciously twirling her ring.

FADE TO BLACK.

The carnival

2008-11-28T11:55:00.000-08:00

I'm wondering when this splintered wooden gazebo will collapse on my head. Since I'm a seer I'm supposed to know when it will happen. I'm supposed to know how old it is too, but I don't. All I know is it isn't going to hold up much longer under this crazy Georgian weather we're having. I'm under this death trap of a stupid thing because they don't think my act warrants them spending money on a new building or a canvas tent like everyone else has. They didn't even provide me with my own crystal ball. I picked one up last year for ten dollars at a New Age store in downtown Memphis. My wardrobe consists of a burgundy turban and long gold earrings inlaid with pearls. I wear a matching purple saffron robe. If I don't fit the stereotype people won't think they're getting ripped off. Don't get me wrong, they want to take me seriously, but not that seriously. It's their way of having insurance in case they don't like what I tell them. They can say, "Oh, that old crackpot with a crystal ball? She works at a carnival for a reason you know."

There's enough eyeliner and makeup on my face to make me look twenty years older. My friends have always asked me when I would retire. They say I'm burned out and that this job has just about sucked the life out of me. I always tell them, when my real face catches up with my makeup-face, that's when I'll quit. The truth is I want to quit, but at the same time I can't.

Earlier today I did a reading for a seventeen-year-old boy, still young enough to believe in the illusion of love and hope. He still believes that maybe, just maybe if he makes all the right choices his life will be good. He's still too young to realize that you can't cheat life. To quote a good friend of mine, Reagren Wright, "life fucks each and every one of us equally and indiscriminately". My job isn't to destroy anyone's naivety, or conversely, to coddle anyone. My job requirements are to simply state the truth, however tragedy-laden it might be. This boy wanted to know if Sarah were the one. He wanted to know what their futures held. I didn't want to tell him that she was a shameless junky. That he would spend almost a year in prison because of her. Or that he would contract a blood-born disease from sharing needles and having sex with her. How do you tell someone that? I took a sip of some bourbon, gnashed my teeth over the nasty tatse and just dealt with it.

Not everything is so pitch-black around here though. Sometimes there are light-hearted cases that break up the monotony. Today, a man came in here flirting with me. He didn't look at my cleavage, which apparently turns all the heads. He just locked his eyes into mine and told me how interesting he thought I was and how beautiful. I didn't want to tell him that he was gay, and that he would finally admit it to himself three weeks and twelve hours and forty-five minutes from now. He would try to pick up a girl from Cleaner's Bar on 7th Avenue in Atlanta. He'd get her home and wouldn't be able to perform. At first he'd blame it on the rum. When she left he would finally come to terms with it. I don't have time to baby sit someone who doesn't know if he likes the hot dog or the taco. I only owe him the truth and I tell him. Lucky for him the crystal ball and the purple towel on my head can ease his conscience for a while. I'm just a carnie, a nut case. He can just think that I'm a little off. Until he goes to that bar and picks up that brunette and the humorous reality will come crashing down on his head like this wooden gazebo. Just his luck. Just my luck, that this strapping young man was as gay as a lavender butterfuly. I never said my job wasn't hard and it takes all kinds.

Some futures are malleable. Some are not. Sometimes no matter what you do you're stuck with it. Other times you can avoid it. Either way, you can chose how to deal with it and therefore I've never believed in destiny. Funny thing, that I never believed in destiny being a psychic and all. You can always make lemonade, right? That's what I want to believe and that's the part of me that keeps me going. It keeps me from ending it. Until next time, I leave you with my wisdom. The daily grind of my day telling fortunes and taking people's money.

332. Haiku - Thanksgiving Songs

2008-11-27T23:32:00.000-08:00



1.
Half-drunk Mimosas
Bright red with whole raspberries
Blurry with laughter.

2.
Neil Young sings away
Stir in bits of laughter,
Soft conversation.

3.
Just one, one more bite
Have to try that apple pie
Stomach hurts so good.

331. Those Darn Little Lines - Leslie

2008-11-26T23:27:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

EXT. BEACH - DAY

RICK, ANDY, and MARTIN walk comfortably along the crowded beach, bare and sandaled feet digging into the soft white sand.

Ahead of them is a large plastic barrier cutting the beach in half, across which music blasts.

ANDY
Dude, this is the hottest party of the year, how in the world did you land tickets?

RICK
I ran into one of the organizers at the bar last night. Linda, I think. I mean how much better can you get? This is the way to end a weekend.

Martin grins at Rick.

MARTIN
You used some of that famous charm of yours?

RICK
You are not going to bring that up again are you? Jerk.

MARTIN
I'm just saying.

RICK
I did not accidentally call her father a greedy pig and then proceed to dump my drink down her dress...accidentally. Seriously, I only did that once.

MARTIN
Once is enough.

ANDY
So true. Oh, the look on Amy's face when you did that.

RICK
Three years and you still haven't let go of that.

MARTIN
No reason to.

They reach the party entrance and the BOUNCER eyes them.

RICK
Hey, we're on the list. Rick Jenner and two guests.

The bouncer scans the names, then nods and stamps their hands.

The three saunter in, freshly marked with little red scorpions.

EXT. THE SCORPION CLUB 2008 BEACH PARTY - DAY

Past the plastic barricades, a few acres of sand are packed with young bodies moving to the music.

A DJ spins on large stage at the center of the crowd.

RICK
Y'guys want something to drink?

ANDY
I'm good.

MARTIN
If they have Fat Tire...

RICK
Cool.

Rick wanders off through the crowd to the bar.

ANDY
This is cool, kinda makes me feel like I've made it - living the life.

MARTIN
Something like that.

He eyes a guy grinding with his bikini-clad girlfriend.

MARTIN
Look at that - I mean, I wouldn't mind dancing like that with my girl - but I'd want to be someplace private, that isn't something I need to share. Oh, go get a room.

ANDY
Oh, I think they're there.

MARTIN
Tell me about it.

Rick returns, holding two Fat Tire beers.

He hands one to Martin.

Martin nods, clinking bottles with Rick.

They watch the crowd move.

Two scantily clad DANCERS work their way up to the stage.

Andy nudges Rick, who elbows Martin.

RICK
Dude...

The dancers climb up on stage, their cropped, black t-shirts emblazoned with a large red scorpion.

ANDY
Scorpion girls?

RICK
Mmmhm.

They stare in awe.

Martin sips his beer and shuffles uncomfortably.

The girls begin dancing, moving towards each other.

The crowd volume rises to a shriek as they begin grinding each other.

MARTIN
Guys, I can't stay.

RICK
What, why?

MARTIN
You know.

ANDY
Seriously, dude?

MARTIN
I'm not going to get on a soapbox, you've heard me do that enough.

RICK
Seriously though.

MARTIN
C'mon. I'm a feminist...and a Christian, some stuff just doesn't work well with that combination.

RICK
So what, you going to come at me from the sin angle or misogyny angle.

MARTIN
Neither. I'll see you guys at the hotel.

Rick shakes his head and turns back to the stage, not really expecting Martin to leave.

Martin pushes through the crowd working his way to the edge of the stage.

Andy watches Martin reach the exit.

Martin turns back for a moment, contemplating the stage, then disappears bast the barriers.

Andy watches the exit for a moment, then turns back to the stage.

FADE TO BLACK.

330. Haiku - Thursday Songs

2008-11-25T23:26:00.000-08:00



1.
Beat pounds like a heart
Bodies twist and blur, opaque
And the pulse goes on, on.

2.
Hair like mud long-dried
Bus stop, oasis of dry,
Tap, tap of raindrops.

3.
Gentle traffic hum
Relax, melt into plastic
Journey down Sunset.

329. Little Red - Leslie

2008-11-24T23:51:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

EXT. DESERT - DAY

ISAAC walks wearily across the empty landscape, thirsty for a simple change in scenery.

He walks with a slow and steady pace, his well-worn boots thumping rhythmically on the sand.

A flask of water is flung around his shoulder and his carries a full backpack.

A group of rocks rises out of the horizon and Isaac walks quicker, moving towards them.

He blinks as he catches sight of red cloth billowing in the wind from the rocks for an instant, then it is gone.

He moves even faster.

EXT. ROCK FORMATION - DAY

Isaac finally reaches the rocks.

He looks around for the flash of color.

RED steps out from behind a column of rock above him.

She seems to tower above him from her rocky perch.

She is wrapped in a red hood that shadows her eyes.

She wraps the cloth around her, knee-high black boots peeking out from behind the cloth.

ISAAC
Was I sent here to see you?

RED
And who sent you?

ISAAC
God told me to come here.

RED
Well, it's time for you to leave. The wolf is coming.

Isaac shakes his head.

ISAAC
But I'm supposed to be here. Where am I supposed to go?

RED
No, it's time for you to leave. You need to leave now. Think hard, who are you?

ISAAC
Isaac.

RED
Where did you come from?

ISAAC
I...I, God sent me.

RED
You can't remember.

ISAAC
God sent me.

RED
Hurry, think harder.

ISAAC
I, I really can't remember. Am I crazy?

RED
You're just shifted.

ISAAC
Shifted?

Red holds her hands palms out in front of her face and moves them apart.

RED
No one's really crazy. They've just shifted dimensions. Bits of them in one, bits in the other. But you, you need to get out before it's too late. The wolf is coming.

ISAAC
I'm so confused.

RED
Please, concentrate. I can hear him, he's coming.

Isaac closes his eyes.

The very distant sound of snarling comes from beyond the rocks.

ISAAC
I can't.

She reaches down and grabs him by the arm, pulling him up to her.

RED
You get behind me. Work on getting out of here.

ISAAC
How do I unshift if I don't even know what shifting is?

RED
You just look for that memory, that one memory beyond the desert.

A large wolf appears beyond the rise of the hills, snarling, his teeth bloody as he charges for the rocks.

Red pulls a massive gun from beneath her cloak and brings it to her shoulder.

RED
You get out now; as long as you're here, I can't hold him off forever.

Isaac squeezes his eyes shut, concentrating hard.

ISAAC
I think, I remember, something...it's, it's all white.

He begins to fade.

Red glances back.

RED
Good! Go, go, hold that memory.

ISAAC
How about you?

RED
Go! I'll be just fine, I've killed the big bad wolf before.

Isaac flickers.

Red sights along the barrel and fires as the wolf prepares to leap.

The wolf dodges and leaps into the air, fangs bared.

Isaac disappears and Red fires again, the impact of the bullet freezing the wolf in midair before he collapses onto the desert floor.

INT. SNAKE RIVER HOSPITAL - DAY

saac blinks, inhaling sharply.

He sits, straitjacketed on a cot in a white room.

FADE TO BLACK.

328. Rites - Leslie

2008-11-23T22:24:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

INT. NANCY'S BEDROOM - DAY

NANCY, an eight year-old, sits cross-legged on her bed, carefully combing her doll's hair.

LUKE, also eight, sits across from her, swirling pieces of a puzzle around on the bed spread.

NANCY
You know, you're never going to get it done like that.

Luke shrugs and keeps swirling the pieces around.

Nancy sighs and continues to comb.

LUKE
Next time we play dolls, we should have all the boys go through a rite?

NANCY
What?

LUKE
In doll years, they're old enough. They should have some kind of ceremony.

NANCY
Are you trying to replace your own need for ritual by creating a ritual for the dolls?

LUKE
I have my own rituals.

NANCY
Like what?

LUKE
My Mom and I go driving every week, find someplace new. On Fridays we make supper together.

Nancy waves her hand in annoyance.

LUKE
That's not a real ritual. It's not the life and death ritual of the ancient world.

NANCY
Have you been reading Joseph Campbell again?

LUKE
So what?

NANCY
I think you're making the mistake of creating a noble savage complex. Humans back then were so much better, so much wiser... Meh, people are people; and people are poopy a lot of the time.

LUKE
Well, I think he's right. I think we don't have any real rituals in our society. And the rituals we do have aren't grounded in myth the way they used to be.

NANCY
Oh, blah, blah, blah. We have rituals, just not as many massive overarching rituals. We're a pluralistic society. We have rituals that are unique to families and sub-cultures.

Nancy wrinkles her nose at him.

LUKE
Besides, Joseph Campbell had a massive chip on his shoulder against modern humanity. We're humans, we make myths and we make rituals - that's why the dolls should have a rite, not because we're so needy for ritual in our lives.

Nancy is silent, still combing.

Finally she stops and holds the doll out to Luke.

NANCY
I'll consider it. Want to play with Princess Twinkles?

Luke takes the doll happily and Nancy grabs the puzzle pieces and squints, concentrating on her new task.

FADE TO BLACK.

327. On the Brink - Leslie

2008-11-22T21:35:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

INT. THE PRESIDENT-ELECT'S HOME - DAY

Three aides, TEDDY SANCHEZ, RICK MCGRAW, and LIZ SANDERS, sit quietly at a large table stacked with notes and briefings in the living room.

They watch the hallway expectantly.

A door squeaks open and purposeful footsteps echo down the hall towards them.

A SECRET SERVICE AGENT in a dark suit, stands near the table.

He raises his wrist to his lips.

SECRET SERVICE AUDIENCE
Appleseed is on the move.

ELENA DIAZ, a small, dignified woman bursts out of the hallway trailed by two AGENTS.

The aides pop out of their seats.

ELENA DIAZ
Sit, sit. I'm not the president yet.

RICK MCGRAW
You'd have been upset if we didn't.

ELENA DIAZ
Furious.

The four grin at each other and Diaz grabs a chair and joins her aides at the table.

LIZ SANDERS
How's it feel, your first security briefing?

ELENA DIAZ
We're all going to die.

TEDDY SANCHEZ
Just as I suspected.

A newspaper hanging over the edge of the table shows a picture of Diaz standing at the podium at her victory speech.

It has a one word headline, "Finally!"

Elena leafs through a newspaper.

She pauses, then lets off a frustrated sigh.

ELENA DIAZ
Why? Seriously why?

LIZ SANDERS
What?

ELENA DIAZ
The idiocy about the cabinet appointments. The trash from the right doesn't bother me, I mean, it's to be expected. But what's with all the anger from the left? Suddenly I'm betraying them.

TEDDY SANCHEZ
Ignore it. We'll show them when we change things.

RICK MCGRAW
Maybe, but it's still upsetting. They trusted us enough to throw their support behind us and get us elected. What's with all the second guessing?

ELENA DIAZ
You know, in my perfect world, I would have a cabinet full of progressives. This isn't a perfect world. Can't they understand that for me to get anything done, I need to have this team. They want all those progressive changes?

LIZ SANDERS
Then deal with the team we have, 'cause they're going to make it happen. They sound as dimwitted as the other side.

ELENA DIAZ
Exactly.

TEDDY SANCHEZ
Feel better?

ELENA DIAZ
Much, been wanting to go off about that for a while now. Alright, what's on our plate for today?

LIZ SANDERS
Well, let's start with what we're going to do about the treasury department, I'm not sold on any of our choices yet.

There is a knock on the door and a Secret Service agent opens the door.

MINDY, the president-elect's body woman slips in and whispers to her.

Elena leans back and sighs.

ELENA DIAZ
Tell them.

MINDY
India just launched a nuclear warhead at Pakistan.

TEDDY SANCHEZ
God...

ELENA DIAZ
You ready for this?

LIZ SANDERS
Yes ma'am. We were elected just for this point in history.

RICK MCGRAW
I'll get the Pentagon on the phone.

LIZ SANDERS
Give the White House a ring after that. Let's see if we can coordinate something.

Elena looks at all of them as they move into action.

ELENA DIAZ
So it starts. Guys.

Everyone pauses.

ELENA DIAZ
Be careful not to tread on the White House's toes. It's guaranteed we won't like their response; but we're not in charge yet.

They nod.

ELENA DIAZ
Well, go!

Blackberries and cell phones appear from nowhere and the room is filled with a rush of energy as the aides begin to form strategies.

Elena watches them with a quiet pride.

She stands and walks to the large window looking over her yard.

She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, then turns, and heads back to the table.

FADE TO BLACK.

326. The Hollow Girl - Leslie

2008-11-21T23:51:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

INT. THE MEDIOCRE - NIGHT

The Mediocre is a club that is anything but. Flat couches hang above the heads of the guests sitting on low chairs and couches, and are accessible by rope ladders.

ALAN watches in amusement as a girl in a tight skirt attempts to climb the rope ladder while maintaining some dignity.

THEO returns with their drinks and sits down next to him.

THEO
Your cranberry juice, good sir?

ALAN
Why thanks. Oh, look, they even stuck a lime in for me. I can be a real boy too!

Theo snorts and leans back into the couch, nodding to the beat and sipping from his glass.

Alan taps his finger along with music and watches the DJ, who is dancing in her perch across the room.

A girl with short, curly hair passes and something about her attracts Alan's attention.

She turns, revealing that some of the hair on the other side of her head is cropped shorter.

A small tattoo rests behind her ear, and rings cover her ear, in contrast to the other side of her head which is free of any type of modification.

The effect is attractive and disconcerting.

ALAN
You should go talk to her?

THEO
Nah, she's just a hollow girl.

ALAN
Excuse me?

THEO
Not her really, I guess, but my expectations for her, she simply becomes a shell for the person I want to her be. I'll get to know her, and sure, I'll appreciate who she really is, but I'll be more disappointed by who she isn't?

ALAN
Good night, you've kind of set yourself up for failure.

THEO
Well, when you approach someone at a club, it's understood that you're looking for a certain, ehm, level of relationship. I don't want to just pick up random people, no matter how cool. I want to get to know someone, and then hey, I know what I'm getting into, and no disappointment.

ALAN
You're a sad, sad man. I mean, you told me you used to daydream about how cool it would be to meet someone spontaneously.

THEO
And that's why it's a daydream; stuff like that doesn't happen.

ALAN
It can, darn it! But you won't know if you don't stop hiding behind excuses and actually meet her.

Theo glances over his shoulder, scanning the room for her.

ALAN
Look at you, you need to just talk to her - even if that's the only thing that happens. You're so idealistic you've become paralyzed. Go.

THEO
You have to help me find an entry point.

ALAN
What?

THEO
If I'm going to go talk to her, I need to find a way to start a good conversation.

ALAN
Oh, for the love of Buddha!

THEO
Hey, you're the one who wants me to talk to her.

ALAN
You know you do too. Ok, ok, fine. Her piercings?

THEO
Nah.

ALAN
Hairstyle, clothes?

THEO
Too much potential for disaster.

ALAN
You're just trying to be difficult.

THEO
Yes.

ALAN
Ah, screw it.

THEO
Thanks for playing.

ALAN
Yeah, yeah. So, when I have kids, I'm limiting the time they have with you. I would very much like them to end up as balanced adults.

Theo laughs, but his eyes are distant, still following the girl across the room.

FADE TO BLACK.

325. Safe - Leslie

2008-11-20T22:46:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

INT. CONVENIENCE STORE - DAY

HENRY wanders down the aisles in a crisp new suit that doesn't fit him quite right, staring in awe at the massive collection of potato chips.

He tries to select one, and finally grabs one, almost in despair.

He makes his way to the counter, his craggy face newly-shaven.

He puts the bag on the counter.

DALE sits in front of seemingly endless rows of cigarette cartons, his face worn hard with years and struggle.

Their eyes meet and they nod.

DALE
That's it?

HENRY
Yeah, that'll be all. To many options. How do you even make a choice?

DALE
You're telling me, brother.

Henry looks around the store again.

DALE
How long?

Henry pauses, calculating.

HENRY
Two days.

DALE
Seven years, 3 months, 18 days.

HENRY
You never stop counting?

DALE
No. Funny, in there, you count down, out here, you're just counting back up.

They pause.

Henry eyes the cash register.

Dale catches his eye and holds his gaze.

DALE
Don't do it, brother.

HENRY
I'm sorry.

DALE
Look at you, in that nice suit. There's somebody waiting for you isn't there? They've thrown a party for you. Go, go to your party, go be with your somebody.

Henry pulls a gun from his waistband.

HENRY
Everything from the cash register.

DALE
Brother...

HENRY
Do it!

Dale pulls bills from the register and puts them into a paper bag, sliding it across the counter and Henry grabs it.

DALE
Look, just go.

HENRY
You haven't pushed the button. Push it.

DALE
No, just got, please.

HENRY
Push it!

Dale shakes his head.

Henry puts the gun to his head.

DALE
Brother, there's no need for that.

HENRY
Push it, or you'll live with my face in your head for the rest of your life.

Dale reaches under the counter.

HENRY
I can't do it. It's too much. I need to be someplace safe.

Sirens sound in the distance, moving closer and closer.

Henry puts the gun down, still clutching the bag of bills.

HENRY
Thank you.

They stand in silence, waiting.

FADE TO BLACK.

324. A Perfect Place - Leslie

2008-11-19T14:31:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

EXT. MELROSE AND CURSEN - NIGHT

ANDI and EMILY walk past the lit windows of shops, bundled up against the cool night air.

EMILY
I'm just not a fan of the idea that art isn't beautiful. Art, I mean, to me, art is inherently something that is well-crafted.

ANDI
Isn't that a really shallow, mm that's harsh - narrow, isn't it a narrow definition of art. And who says that just because somethings ugly it's not well crafted?

EMILY
I dunno, all the dada, neo-dada, abstract, expressionist stuff...it's just - ridiculously hard to swallow. And half the stuff looks like people aren't really even trying.

ANDI
Maybe the trying is in the conceptualizing - maybe the final creation of it doesn't require painstaking effort - but was the thought that resulted in that creation painstaking.

Strains of live Christmas music from behind a closed door stop them.

A guitarist transitions from a gentle reggae-styled "Joy to the World" to a gentle, Spanish-styled "Silver Bells" while a violin accompanies it gently.

Andi closes her eyes, listening.

EMILY
Can't they just wait? Its' not even Thanksgiving yet. Everyone's so eager to dive into the holiday madness.

ANDI
Shhh.

Emily turns in surprise to see her friend standing by the door, eyes closed, and tears streaming down her face.

EMILY
Whoa. And you're the one who likes ugly art and doesn't do holidays.

ANDI
Not even going to...I may not "do" Christmas, but these songs take me someplace. I close my eyes and everything's perfect, and there are cobblestones, and stone, and smiling musicians.

She chokes a bit

EMILY
I'm sorry it makes you so sad.

ANDI
It's not sad, it's not happy either. I think there are a thousand emotions we will never name. This is one.

EMILY
Let's go...it's getting colder.

Andi almost whispers.

ANDI
Just a little more, please.

She leans closer to the door, absorbing the music for a while.

She is lost.

Emily shivers and her teeth chatter a bit, snapping Andi out of her reverie.

ANDI
Sorry, let's go.

She wipes the tears off her tricks, leaving tiny, silver trails and begins walking again.

The two head away on the sidewalk to the strains of "What Child is This?"

FADE TO BLACK.

323. Haiku - Red Riding Hood Songs

2008-11-18T23:14:00.000-08:00



1.
Little Red Riding Hood,
Not so little anymore
And she's grown fangs too.

2.
Wolf-man came for me,
But I was waiting for him,
Little grin, big gun.

3.
No need for woodsmen
Red and her battle-scarred ax
Oh, they'd do just fine.

322. Gummy - Leslie

2008-11-17T21:58:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

INT. LITTLE SCOOPS YOGURT SHOP - DAY

ROBERT sits glumly at table for two as EVIE sits across from him cheerfully digging into a bowl of Cinammon-Vanilla topped with butterfingers.

She eats and watches Robert, contemplating his face.

Getting up suddenly, she walks quickly to the counter.

Robert watches as she gestures animatedly at the toppings container, grinning.

The SERVER laughs and fills a plastic bag, then hands it to her.

She returns to the table and plops down a bag full of gummy bears.

EVIE
Here, this used to always cheer me up.

She pulls gummy bears out of the bag and begins arranging them on the table.

EVIE
I used to do this when I was kid and I was in a bad mood.

She looks at the formation of colorful bears for a second, then proceeds to pop them, one by one in her mouth.

ROBERT
That's probably unsanitary. Actually, now, not probably, it is, ridiculously unsanitary.

EVIE
Shhh, don't ruin years of tradition. Here, you try.

She shoves the bag towards him.

He ignores it.

She sighs and pulls more bears out of the bag and starts arranging them on a napkin in front of him.

EVIE
C'mon, just try.

ROBERT
Fine.

He half-heartedly arranges them into two lines, then eats them, one by one.

Evie returns to her frozen yogurt, pretending to ignore him.

He finishes eating the bears, then returns to his sulking.

She keeps eating.

He sneaks a glance at her, and satisfied she is distracted, he slips more bears out of the bag, arranging them into intersecting diamonds, then eating them.

He tries another arrangement, then stops looking up and sees Evie watching him.

A smile plays around her lips and he fights to keep a straight face as he pushes the bears around.

Evie turns back to the window, smirking just a bit, while Robert eats his latest formation of gummy bears.

FADE TO BLACK.

321. Moving On - Leslie

2008-11-16T15:48:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

INT. MAMA B'S PIE HOUSE - EVENING

ANTHONY sits comfortably in the window booth, lovingly contemplating a massive slice lemon meringue pie.

LARNELLE sits across from him, his peach cobbler untouched as he stares out the window as students from the nearby university pass.

A girl with big hoop earrings, an art portfolio, and a flowing skirt stops in front of the cafe to check something in the portfolio.

LARNELLE
Oh, look, she's absolutely your type. Mmm, and she's got an art folder thingy...portfolio? Anyway, yeah.

Anthony glances briefly out the window, then takes a bite of his pie.

ANTHONY
Mmm. That's good.

LARNELLE
Dude, what's wrong with you? I mean, just based on looks, you need to run out there and take a knee, or at the least get her number.

ANTHONY
This pie is amazing, oh, wow...I love lemon, I love meringue. I love this pie!

LARNELLE
Seriously?

ANTHONY
Look, I realized a few weeks ago that I'm probably not ever going to meet the right woman and so I'm working on not caring anymore.

LARNELLE
Excuse me?

ANTHONY
Well, I used to think I knew what I wanted, and I guess I still do...but I know what it looks like in my head - not in real life, and I don't think I ever will. I don't think I'll ever know how what I'm looking for looks, seems, is, in the real world.

LARNELLE
Brother, you're messing with me aren't you? I mean, your "dream girl?" That's all you've ever wanted.

ANTHONY
I'm dead serious. I don't think she exists, and if she does, I won't know how to find her. And just as well, because the deeper issue here is if I really am sure that what I'm looking for is the right thing for me. I could be completely off, find what I thought was right, then end up miserable. Or, I could find the girl who seemed like she was the ideal I'm looking for, only to find out, she's missing something vital that I was looking for.

LARNELLE
Alright, now you're just making me depressed.

ANTHONY
My problem is, I want perfection. Not a perfect woman, a woman who will be perfect with me. And since perfection doesn't exist and since I couldn't live with anything less, I'm just letting myself off the hook. I'll be a happy old spinster.

LARNELLE
One, I don't think guys end up as spinsters and two, that's is a terrible image you've stuck in my mind - I may never forgive you.

Anthony savors another slow bite of pie.

LARNELLE
You need help, and she looks like she could give you some. If you won't get her number, I will.

Larnelle stands up, walks outside and approaches the girl, gesturing carefully inside.

Anthony watches him mildly for a moment, shakes his head, then returns to his pie.

FADE TO BLACK.

320. Gladiators - Leslie

2008-11-15T09:08:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

INT. CAR ON 101 FREEWAY - DAY

DANNY slouches thoughtfully in the passenger seat of the car, watching the flow of cars.

LIZA taps her fingers on the steering wheel as they whizz along the freeway.

The sky around them is thick with smoke from fires north of LA.

The sun forces its way through the gloom, but visibility is terrible, the hills and buildings disappearing quickly into smog.

DANNY
I was driving here a few days ago and there was a whole fleet of fire engines headed up towards the fires.

LIZA
Yeah?

DANNY
Yeah. It was kind of moving, this army of guys going up to risk their lives and face one of the more terrifying elements. I mean...fire, fire is scary crap.

LIZA
Scary crap, yes, yes it is.

DANNY
Anyway, I was looking at their faces as they passed, and they all had these looks of quiet intensity. You know? They were prepared, stoic - there was a nobility to them.

LIZA
Isn't that romanticizing it all a bit?

DANNY
Who're you talking to? Of course it is, but that's what I do. I felt like declaring that I salute all those about to die, or something like that.

LIZA
My, my, aren't we over emotional?

DANNY
You should have seen it. Modern knights.

Liza shakes her head and returns to tapping her fingers to the music.

LIZA
I think saluting those who were about to die belonged to gladiators, not knights. And the first isn't nearly as noble a calling.

DANNY
Look, here come some!

A line of fire trucks is pulling past them in the lane left of them.

Liza glances over and catches the eye of a fireman riding behind the driver.

He looks focused, waiting patiently for his chance to dive into the flames.

Her face softens as yet another truck moves past.

The trucks pass, and Liza and Danny watch in quiet awe as the firefighters race north, deeper into the smoke.

FADE TO BLACK.

319. Haiku - Sick Songs

2008-11-14T23:12:00.000-08:00



1.
Hammer to my brain
Red hot needles through my eye
And oddly cheerful.

2.
Scratch that, feeling worse
Washing machine in stomach
Churn, pause, churn, pause, churn.

3.
Sleep calls so gently
Against the drum in my head,
Painful lullaby.

318. The Ring - Leslie

2008-11-13T23:33:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

INT. BOXING RING - DAY

The old boxing ring is dark, sunlight pushing its way through windows thick with dust.

The seats surrounding the ring are folded; they drip with cobwebs and the waste of years past.

The sounds of thudding reverberate from the ring.

EVAN O'MALLEY is a thick, intimidating man; even more intimidating in his boxing trunks and gloves.

He glistens with sweat as he pounds away at JOSH PATRICK.

Josh is an even larger man, with thick muscles.

He stands in a bloodied t-shirt and jeans, doing nothing to fend off Evan's blows.

Evan is staggering, but with a sharp yell, he launches a barrage of vicious blows against Josh.

Josh staggers, but won't even raise his bare fists.

He shuffles towards Evan and tries to hug him.

Evan pounds away and Josh falls to his knees.

Evan doesn't stop, now kicking at Josh.

Josh staggers up and despite a blow to the stomach, stumbles towards Evan again, attempting to hug him.

Evan works to keep pouring his remaining energy into his devastating blows while Josh continues to stagger towards him attempting to hug Evan and being battered back.

The strange, horrifically beautiful tango continues over and over again like an infinite loop.

FADE TO BLACK.

317. Black - Leslie

2008-11-12T23:51:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

INT. JERRY'S BOOK SHOP - DAY

JERRY sits behind the counter of the book store, a cozy space which contains an even mix of rare titles and standard Barnes and Nobles' fare.

He leans back on his stool, watching the traffic pass on the sidewalk outside.

The door swings open and Cary walks in.

CARY
Yo, Jerry. Slow day...

JERRY
Yeah, it is.

Cary leans against the counter.

CARY
You still on for the barbecue next week?

JERRY
You better believe, as long as no one has an issue with me bringing a few veggie dogs for the wife.

CARY
Picky that way eh?

Jerry grins and rolls his eyes.

JERRY
Vegetarians...

Cary chuckles.

Two black guys pass the store, dressed in chains and pants that sag severely around their waists.

CARY
Hey, no offense, but why the heck do black guys dress like that? It just seems stupid.

JERRY
I don't.

CARY
Well, yeah, but you're not really black.

JERRY
Excuse me?

CARY
Aw, c'mon man, you know what I mean, you don't even sound black.

Jerry exhales, then takes a deep breath, then exhales again.

JERRY
What does "being black" even mean to you?

CARY
You know, how most black people act?

JERRY
Wow, just...look, first of all, there is no "being black." It's not like all thirty-seven million of us get together in our monolith and plan what we're going to do.

Cary looks at him blankly.

JERRY
Look, it's a class thing, not a race thing; and you've taken one particular class and stretched that to cover millions of people. It's as if I took a WASP from an old money family, then looked at and said, "You're not really white, because you're not like this." Or if you took a redneck from Appalachia and said "This is what all white people are like."

CARY
Ummm.

JERRY
We American blacks are descended from a thousand African cultures, mixed with Europeans and Native Americans...how could we possibly be all alike?

Cary moves away from the counter.

CARY
Dude, was just trying to make conversation. Next Sunday?

Jerry shakes his head and disbelief.

JERRY
Yeah, I'll be there.

Cary slips out the door and Jerry throws up his hands in the air.

JERRY
Let those with ears, let them hear...and he obviously is missing that part of his anatomy.

FADE TO BLACK.

316. How I'd Like to Go - Leslie

2008-11-11T21:06:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

INT. CAFE EXOTICA - DAY

ZIA sits on one of the many couches scattered around the large, but cozy cafe.

Her pink hair is perfectly coiffed into graceful coils.

A lock of hair spirals past the square frames of her glasses which highlight her small, oval face.

The thin, unzipped hoodie she wears reveals a t-shirt with a print of a stylized dandelion.

She flips idly through an old Newsweek.

Samir sits next to her, his arm curving over the top of the couch as he sips his tea.

He's dressed in pin-striped cargo pants, a button-up shirt, and a vest, an elegant anachronism.

ZIA
Awwww.

SAMIR
What?

ZIA
This lady was killed by her husband's casket on the way to his funeral.

SAMIR
Ok...one, this elicits an "awww" from you? And two...you're one sick little pyscho. And allow me to emphasize the word little.

She slugs him and he smirks at her.

ZIA
C'mon. There's a kind of romantic irony to that.

SAMIR
I was going to say bitter irony, but sure, semantics.

ZIA
I'd love for that to be me.

SAMIR
Oh, you are sick. Well, as long as its me in the coffin in your little fantasy.

ZIA
There's just something complete about that, to have the day memorializing your husband's death be the day that you die. Mmmm, there's a satisfying finality to that.

SAMIR
Yes, dear.

ZIA
That's how I'd like to go.

SAMIR
Of course, dear.

Zia narrows her eyes and glares at him, then whacks him again.

He smiles and returns to his coffee and she drops the pseudo-anger and puts her head on his shoulder, a mass of pink against his dark vest.

FADE TO BLACK.

315. Bobby and the Great Balloon Rescue: A Balloon Parable - Leslie

2008-11-10T23:08:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

INT. BOBBY'S BEDROOM - DAY

Bobby sits on his bed admiring the flock of balloons filling his room.

They are every color imaginable and the light pouring in from the window filters through the balloons, casting colored light onto the floor - creating a small cathedral with buoyant stained glass.

A slightly opened window gently pushes the balloons around.

A small, red balloon bobs, floating towards the window, then with a quick motion is pulled outside.

Bobby is on his feet in a moment, scrambling for his small tennis shoes.

EXT. BOBBY'S STREET - DAY

Bobby races down the street, the balloon far ahead.

His feet pound the pavement and he gets closer and closer to the balloon, which has stopped its progression.

It hovers tantalizingly close, then a draft of wind pulls it away.

Bobby stops, panting, then continues running after it, past houses and bemused neighbors.

He loses sight of the balloon and stops looking around.

Bobby begins to walk slowly, looking around for the balloon.

He swerves back and forth as he stares up at the trees around, not watching where he is going.

Finally he spots a patch of read high in a tree.

He circles the tree, plotting a strategy.

Strategy completed he begins climbing.

Bobby struggles up the branches, stretching to reach the ones high above him.

He pulls himself up to the balloon and frees it, carefully tying it to his wrist.

He slides and half falls back down the tree, finally landing, scraped, but happy, on the ground.

INT. BOBBY'S BEDROOM - DAY

Bobby unties the balloon from her arm, letting it go and watching it join the the rest of the balloons hovering by the ceiling.

FADE TO BLACK.

314. Alanna and the Shared Balloon: A Balloon Parable - Leslie

2008-11-09T22:23:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

EXT. PLAYGROUND - DAY

ALANNA sits on the swings happily, a yellow balloon tied around her finger.

She swings back and forth, her eyes following the yellow sphere as it bobs back and forth.

ERIC sits glumly at the base of the slide, scooping up handfuls of sand and tossing them back onto the ground.

He looks wistfully over at Alanna's balloon.

Alanna catches Eric's eye on the downswing.

She slows the swing, looking at him, then following his eyes to the balloon.

She makes a face and jumps off the swing.

Alanna begins to walk away, then stops, and looks at Eric's wistful face.

She makes another face and walks over to him.

She pulls the balloon off her finger, ties it around his and smiles.

He looks at her, then the balloon and breaks out into a huge grin.

Standing up, Eric races off towards the jungle gym, balloon happily in tow.

Alanna slowly makes her way back to the swing, kicking at the dirt.

She passes a bush and stops suddenly.

A yellow balloon is bobbing, tangled in the branches.

She looks back - Eric is still playing happily with his new balloon.

She frees the balloon, ties it to her finger and hops onto the swing, gazing contentedly at her balloon.

FADE TO BLACK.

313. Alexander the Liberator: A Balloon Parable - Leslie

2008-11-08T23:47:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

EXT. CITY PARK - DAY

ALEXANDER peddles gleefully down the park path, his small bike, a mass of color, with a dozen balloons tied to the back.

He bikes past a small pond, whizzing past ducks who honk in protest at the little boy disturbing their peace.

The path becomes steeper and Alexander works harder, his little legs pumping furiously.

The path grows narrow as trees crowd in.

Alex slows, working harder.

He finally makes it to the top of the hill and lets out a long breath.

He pushes his bike to the edge of the hill and looks over the edge.

He grins as the sun sets over the park.

A breeze tugs at the balloons and he looks over at them.

His smile dims as he watches them pulling at their restraints.

He watches for a moment, then sighs, his smile disappearing.

They tug hopefully at the bike seat.

He trods solemnly to the bike and pulls the balloons free.

Walking to the cliff edge, Alexander purses his lips then lets the balloons go.

They race away on the wind, colors racing upward.

He turns away, walking slowly back to the bike.

A lone blue balloon floats up, then stops, hovering as Alexander returns to the bike.

The balloon wavers, then descends.

It brushes Alexander's shoulder and he turns, his face lighting up.

Taking the balloon, he sits at the edge of the cliff, and together, they watch the sun slowly sink.

FADE TO BLACK.

312. The Commuter - Leslie

2008-11-07T21:12:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

INT. THE DANCING BEAN COFFEE SHOP - day

ABBY stands behind the counter in a light black hoodie watching the sun rise over downtown, light glinting off of glass of the buildings around the intersection.

She grabs a local newspaper from the counter and stars flipping through, scanning the financial section.

She is curvy, a few inches short of six feet, arms covered in tattoos.

Each of her ears have matching plugs and matching silver rings.

LENA, the other barista, is a tiny black woman, each piece of her uniform pristine.

LENA
What are you reading?

ABBY
Just the stocks...always good for a laugh.

LENA
You're not laughing.

Abby gives her a look over the top of the newspaper and Lena smiles innocently.

She checks the steamer.

ABBY
Heads up, first customer.

Two sheriffs' deputies push through the doors of the shop.

DEPUTY VINCE
Hey girls, the usual for me. You?

DEPUTY DEVINE
Same, heavy on the cinnamon please.

LENA
Just like always. You guys ever think of branching out, trying new things?

The deputies chuckle.

Abby puts down the paper.

LENA
You're good, I got this one.

She busies herself preparing the coffee.

Abby snaps the paper back into position.

She looks up for a second and hisses at Abby.

LENA
Your boy's back.

Abby peers over her paper.

TED is crossing the street towards the coffeeshop.

He wears jeans, an untucked button-up shirt, and a pageboy cap at a slight angle.

ABBY
Every Thursday.

LENA
He's been coming here...how long?

ABBY
We're into month 5.

LENA
Think he'll ever ask you out?

ABBY
He'd better...spending money to travel 5 miles on the bus every week to see me? Yeah, he's going to get sick of that soon.

LENA
He's been doing it for five months...maybe he should grow a pair. Wait...5 miles? He told you that?

ABBY
Yeah, was asking him if he was from around. Said he liked the coffee here - was worth the commute.

Lena snorts.

ABBY
It's kind of cute. Be nice.

Ted walks into the store and Abby puts the paper down.

ABBY
Hey, what can I get for you.

TED
Ummm, let me grab a scone and get some black currant tea.

ABBY

TED
Yeah, that'd be great.

Abby tosses the scone in a small toaster oven and starts brewing the tea.

Ted stands in front of the counter inspecting the selection of muffins.

ABBY
Here's your scone. I'll bring the tea to your table.

TED
Thanks.

He sits down and slowly eats the scone while reading The Onion.

Abby finishes the tea and slips around the counter placing the tea onto his table.

She smiles and he smiles back, shyly.

She returns to her station and returns to her paper, watching him.

Lena looks over at Abby.

Better luck next week eh?

LENA

Abby rolls her eyes at Lena and turns to the classifieds.

FADE TO BLACK.

311. The Morning After - Leslie

2008-11-06T21:48:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

INT. CATHEDRAL - MORNING

ADA lies in a dark patch under a massive Rosetta the Cathedral wall.

Colored sunlight recreates the pattern on the dusty floor.

She wakes up with a start, her eyes popping open as she grabs her neck in panic.

Two livid bites mark her neck.

She looks around but sees no one.

Slowly moving to her feet, she cautiously walks into the patch of light streaming from the stained glass.

Her skin sizzles and she screams running out of the sunlight into the shadows.

She looks at her arms as the burned skin smooths, healing.

Ada looks around, then runs through the pew to the font of holy water in the back of the room.

She looks down into the water.

Her face is pale and when she opens her mouth, two fangs curve almost delicately where her incisors once sat.

She backs away from the image in shock, stumbling into a pillar.

Taking a deep breath, Ada tries not to panic.

She goes back to the water and takes a second look, trying to slow her breathing.

She pulls her hair back and slowly bares her fangs.

Despite herself, she smiles a bit, almost shyly at first, then with a hint of pleasure.

The flash of deviance frightens her and unexpectedly, a dark, red tear forms in the corner of her eye and falls into the font, creating red trails that radiate down into the water.

She backs away and retreats to a windowless grotto.

The door of the church opens and a young priest walks in.

Instinctively, Ada licks her lips hungrily.

She stops in the middle of the motion, realizing what she is doing.

Horror seeps into her eyes.

She blinks away more tears and interlaces her fingers tightly.

Then without another thought, she dives into the sunlight.

She screams as her skin bubbles and then she explodes in a fine mist of ash which falls gently through the colored sun beams.

The priest stares in horror, staggers backwards before racing out the door, leaving the ash to fall gently like flakes of gray snow, onto the hard floor.

FADE TO BLACK.

310. The Loading Tent - Leslie

2008-11-05T23:01:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

INT. KITCHEN - DAY

AARON sits at the kitchen table, his hands deep inside a film tent, his face contorted in concentration - the scene is not unlike a vet attempting to deliver a baby cow.

ASINETTA walks into the kitchen, opens the cupboard and removes a jar of honey.

She pulls a plastic container of lemon juice from the refrigerator and plops it down beside the honey.

Grabbing a spoon from the silverware drawer, she scoops up a large gob of honey and squeezes lemon juice over it.

She sticks the spoonful in her mouth and looks over at Aaron as she sucks the honey contemplatively.

ASINETTA
Moo Gamra?

AARON
Huh?

She removes the spoon from her mouth and works hard to swallow.

ASINETTA
Is that the new camera?

AARON
Yeah...got to get loading this mag down before we start shooting tomorrow.

ASINETTA
You worry too much.

AARON
I hate learning new cameras.

She sucks the remainder of the honey and lemon from the spoon, removes it from her mouth and waves it at him.

ASINETTA
No you don't.

AARON
Yeah well...I don't like pre-shoot jitters and it's worse when I have to learn a new camera.

He fumbles around, closing his eyes tight.

ASINETTA
And yet it's strangely comforting to you, all that wriggling around blind in that hot tent.

AARON
Baby, that sounds so sexy.

Asinneta snorts and goes for the honey again.

Aaron makes a face at her as she double dips and she sticks her tongue out at him.

There is a click and he lets out a breath, his hands going still inside the tent.

He inhales slowly, pulls his hands out carefully, then unzips the tent and removes the film magazine.

ASINETTA
Aww, guk at dat, burfek woop.

AARON
Yes, yes it is a perfect loop.

They admire the film that curves beautifully from one side of the magazine to the other.

ASINETTA
See, you'll be fine.

AARON
Well, still, you had to go switching cameras on me.

ASINETTA
Have I mentioned how much I love being your boss?

She grins broadly.

AARON
Yeah, yeah.

ASINETTA
You should probably load it one more time to be sure you have it down.

He glares at her and she chuckles, slipping back out of the room.

He sighs, pops open the mag, pulls the test film out and resets the tent.

He closes his eyes, sticks his hands back into the tent's sleeves and smiles as the familiar rhythms of loading film take over.

FADE TO BLACK.

309. Haiku - Election Songs

2008-11-04T23:58:00.000-08:00



1.
MSNBC
Tap fingers, nervous, pace, pace
Twas' election eve.

2.
Take a long, deep breath
Press ink to ballot, exhale
Close my eyes, and wait.

3.
Open my eyes, slow
Drink it in, this new feeling
From peasant to prince.

308. Gopheria - Leslie

2008-11-03T22:41:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

INT. STUDY - DAY

ERIC and RYAN sit in front of Eric's mac contemplating a blank page.

ERIC
Ok, ok...so maybe we're trying to find an idea in the wrong place.

RYAN
And the right place would be?

ERIC
Animals?

RYAN
Talking animals? Really?

ERIC
No no, it could be good. Think about it...we could have a society of intelligent....gophers.

RYAN
Oh really? And why gophers? Why not prairie dogs, or skunks, or giraffes?

ERIC
Stay with me here. How about a dystopian society run by gophers?

RYAN
You're truly mad, you know that?

ERIC
Come on, work with me here!

RYAN
Ok, ok, what does this world look like? Do the gopher overlords run a ministry of subjugation? Do they enforce their furry reign of terror with keen incisor-like wit.

ERIC
You're so not helping.

RYAN
Come on!

ERIC
Seriously, dystopic gophers? We're straining for something. Let's go...take a break, come back with something.

RYAN
I call it Gopheria.

ERIC
Good God man, you're mad. I'm going to go come up with a cliched love story about two charming and quirky, but ultimately one-dimensional twenty-somethings. Better than power-hungry rodents.

RYAN
Fine, but you'll see.

Eric spins around in his chair thinking.

ERIC
Come on, we have to have something. Something different - creative. Something no one's seen before?

RYAN
Fascist pigs?

ERIC
Oy.

FADE TO BLACK.

The Hunted Eye-Eric

2008-11-03T19:21:00.001-08:00

I haven't really written in a while so I thought maybe if I do a writing excercise it will keep me from getting rusty. So I decided to write something, heavily influenced and inspired by Tess Gerristen's novel called "The Apprentice". I'll forewarn you it is not for the faint of heart. In any case I might continue it if I either get a fan base or if I just get the whim. Anyway, here it is...

PROLOGUE:

Here, we are sheep, herded together with the same stitched wool covering our backs. Here, we all consume the same food. I say consume instead of eat, for eating is what people do. Here we are machines-animals-watching the same TV, bathing in the same stalls, never able to leave our cages. The powers that be dictate to us when we will eat and when we will sleep. When we will rise and when we will make our beds.

The only solace, the only thing to break up the monotony is to hope, and wait. You can almost smell it in the air just before it happens. There's an electric hum in the voices of those just before they do it. There's a subtle, nervous twitch to every movement they make, the quiet language of culpability, of guilt. The smells and the tastes, the harbingers of the Event, fill my nostrils and mouth and I cannot wait any longer.

Right now, in the shower they are beating a man to death. They are cutting him open with a shank that was probably smuggled in or brought from the kitchen. This is happening not thirty feet away from me. His screams pierce the pod and echo through every corridor. They are screams of a mad man, a wild animal who knows he is being thrusted into the slaughterhouse. There is no hope. I only wish I could see his face, his eyes right now. If that doesn't qualify for Heaven then I don't know what could.

I make my way across the peeling concrete floor, closer to the shower. On the way to the shower there are a few people who sit, muted and dumb like zoo animals in front of the television. What are they doing and where are the guards? I'm not curious as to why they are so apathetic and desensitized to murder. Rather, I'm curious, almost angry, that they do not wish to witness such magnificent beauty, however transitory. It's almost impossible for me to imagine them not wanting to watch, to vicariously take part in the fleeting miracle; watching a man's life being dangled before him like a marionette.

And those eyes. There is nothing like the look in a man's eyes just before he is about to die. You can almost taste the energy. It's too subtle for most to notice, or maybe you just have to be the right kind of person. But it's there and I notice it. I live for it. If you are patient you can feel it flow through you and ripple like the tide of a quiet lake. If you're quick enough you can catch it.

I edge my way around the corner, closer to the shower now. I imagine myself as a student in medical school again. I imagine I'm about to walk into a surgery. Perhaps as part of my practicum I will be asked to sterilize some part of his body with an idione rub. Maybe I will be asked to make an incision somewhere.

His screams have died down almost to whimpers and moans. Several men run from behind the curtains, almost tearing them down. The curtain is suspended by a shower rod with library books squeezed between either end of it and the wall. They've managed to keep their garments mostly free of his blood. But even though it is barely visible on their hands I can see it in their eyes. Their eyes.

But none of that matters right now; as I approach the shower curtain everything else becomes invisible. I pull it back and walk toward him. He is lying on his stomach in a pool of blood. I try to avoid it but it is everywhere. Water is trickling down from a leaky shower head and rolling toward the metal, honeycombed drain. It captures some blood with it, diluting it down to an almost milky white. I flip him over. His face is hardly recognizable save for his aquiline nose and gold-capped teeth. If I didn't know this was Benjamin Morden before they took him in here I wouldn't be able to recognize him now. They said that he was a child molester or had committed some other equally dispicable offense. It doesn't matter; all that matters now is that he is on the stage of a heavenly theater about to make his last performance and I'm sitting in a dress circle seat.

He is looking at me now and trying to say something. There's a sparkle in his eyes. It is a magnetic sparkle of desperation that clings to me. He is locking his eyes onto mine and he won't let go. It's a sparkle of hope that says perhaps I've come to his aid. I've come to save him. He is trying to speak but instead he chokes up blood. It pours over the sides of his mouth. Maybe he is about to beg for his life back, for me to call for help. But I am not the least bit interested in anything he has to say. He tries to raise his arms to grasp my hand but he is too weak to raise them. I begrudgingly grasp his hand, only with the hope that by doing so it will keep him alive if only for a few seconds longer. A few more precious seconds that I can gaze into his eyes and see the hopeless glimmer of his life pass before me like a shooting star. Those few seconds might enable me to capture it and possess it. Every crime he has commited, every little dirty secret he has ever tried to keep streams through those eyes like a silent film.

It worked. Grasping his hand has inspired some primal part of him to keep going. He tries to speak again. He half mutters something, a name I think, but I am too enraptured to care. My hair is standing up on the back of my neck. My eyes are locked into his in an inpenetrable dance and as he speaks, he finally realises I am not listening. The flicker in his eyes fades and at this point I'm almost willing to do anything to keep him alive for just a few more seconds. His face softens and his eyes squint closed.

I hear boots clopping somewhere behind me and I hear someone yelling, "What's going on?".

I pull out my homemade scalpel and use it to pluck his left eye out. I do this swiftly but with absolute precision, as if I'm mining a precious jewel. What years of medical school can do for you. I turn around and walk away but not before the guards arrive. They run past ignoring me, muttering things to each other. They will not talk to me. That's too much paper work. They are probably angry their dinner got interrupted. I walk out of the shower like I just returned from a trip to the museum.

CHAPTER 1

"That's the fourth one this month," says Seargant Steen. Her hands are clasped behind her back. She stands with her shoulders straight, almost in military fashion, facing away from Detective Hash. Her gray pant suit is perfectly starched and pleated. She stares out of the window as if someone out on those busy streets might be more receptive. If anyone out there even has a heart beat they would be more receptive than he, she thought.

Detective Hash swivels in his leather chair languidly, almost leaning on his desk. He is eyeing an onyx name plate on his desk that reads DETECTIVE LYNDON HASH 3RD PRECINCT.

She doesn't turn around or glance at him. She knows what he's looking at. Why would someone have a name plate engraved with the precinct they worked with as an officer? Did he want everyone to know that he wasn't soft, that he worked the beat once too? Or was he using it to rub it into the faces of the other officers he had worked with for the past five years? He had been promoted almost two months ago, and much to Steen's disapproval he had been assigned to work with her homicide unit in Ashville.

She cleared her throat loud enough to break his spell.

"Detective Hash?" she said. When he didn't reply her shoulders sank slightly. She sighed coldly.

"What do you want me to say, Kare-"

At that she turned to him.

"I'm sorry, Officer Steen," he said, with a subtle flair of sarcasm, "but what do you want me to say? Miller's been in prison for ten years now. Do you want me to say this isn't some copy cat? Oh, no, it can't be. It's some sick fuck he somehow took under his wing while in prison...a fan of his, a penpal? Do you know how ridiculous this sounds?"

Finally turning around she said, "It happens all the time. Do you know how many mass murders and serial killers get fan mail? Hell you can buy a Charles Manson T-shirt on ebay for five bucks."

"What's your point?"

At this the volume of her voice raised, it became more punctuated, more cutting. She said, "My point is, Detective Hash, that we're not looking really good on the ten o'clock news right now. And if there's some information, any, tying this to him then we better just look into it."

Detective Hash finally sat up straight and looked her in the eyes. He paused for a moment, and looked out the window. "He's in Brushy Mountain right now, awaiting another trial. And yes, we've looked into his mail and yes there were several letters sent to some crazy bitch in Ashville. But they decided it wasn't a threat. She's just some burned out hippy that can't keep her legs closed."

The look in her eyes was one of pure disgust, so sharp he had to look away.

"He's already doing life without parole, what more can they do to him? Listen, I need you to sign these papers so that I can investigate. That's all I'm asking. I'm sick of knowing there's women out there ending up in little pieces inside refridgerators. I'm tired of finding eyeless corpses in public parks. I don't want to have to go to a judge and get a search warrant. And I'm going to ride your ass until I get those papers!"

He sighed, half afraid of her. He acted as if he were doing her some huge favor and pulled out some forms from his drawer and shot them across his desk.

She took the papers and left without thanking him.

307. Riddle - Leslie

2008-11-02T23:32:00.000-08:00

 

FADE IN:

EXT. SIDEWALK - DAY

VIRGINIA walks down the side walk, looking straight forward.

She is dressed in a thick ski jacket and jeans.

VIRGINIA
I am formidable. Far deadlier than you will ever know and far gentler.

She smiles and pulls off the jacket tossing it behind her, revealing a high-collared blouse.

She pulls up a sleeve revealing a rubber tourniquet and flicks at her arm teasing a vein up.

VIRGINIA
I inject ideas like dope, I live high on the fumes of your imagination; I am infinite and short-lived.

She pulls at her neck, seemingly pulling away a layer of herself, revealing a beautiful corset, dark jeans, and boots.

VIRGINIA
I'm your unanswered questions...i.e. Do each of the planets within parallel universes share the same parallel universes or do they each have their own respective collection of parallel universes and what about the worlds within those universes? How many infinities would you spend exploring the solar system before you went mad? Grasp infinity, by the way, I dare you? Tired yet? Well I'm not. Is our universe, unimaginable in size, simply a speck of dust within another universe, which is a speck of dust within another which is a...

She interrupts herself, pulling at her hair to reveal that it is a wig hiding cropped red hair - she tosses the wig behind her.

VIRGINIA
I am complexity and simplicity folded infinitely into themselves - and infinite amount of facets. I contain a billion universes within me.

She pulls another layer of herself away, revealing a plain white dress and dark red pinafore.

VIRGINIA
I'll haunt your nightmares if you like but won't touch your daydreams. I'm always here and like that...

She snaps her fingers hard.

VIRGINIA
I'm gone.

She pulls another layer away, and is gone, the last layer of her blowing down the street, leaving nothing in its place.

FADE TO BLACK.

306. I LIke Romantic Walks in The Stars - Leslie

2008-11-01T23:52:00.000-07:00

 

FADE IN:

INT. ABRAM'S PLANETARIUM - DAY

ZACH cautiously enters the planetarium dome, looking around the empty space.

ZACH
Jenna?

JENNA pops up near the center beside the massive projector.

JENNA
Hey you, come over this way.

Zach walks to the center and finds Jenna sitting on a picnic blanket.

A small basket with sandwiches, cheese, and wine sits open.

He stands, staring up at the dark dome.

JENNA
Sit.

Zach takes one more look, then plops down onto the blanket.

ZACH
You sure it's ok for us to be here?

JENNA
Yes, stop worrying, I have an in.

ZACH
So this is your idea of a hot date eh? Nerd.

JENNA
So very proud of it. Didn't your parents every take you to a planetarium?

ZACH
No, not really sure what the big deal is.

JENNA
Oh! No words, I...oh, just watch.

She lies back on the blanket and stares up at the blank sky, then punches in a code on a remote lying next to her hand.

Zach looks at her, then follows suite, lying next to her.

The lights darken in the dome and the room becomes pitch black.

JENNA
My dad used to run this place when I was a kid. I used to watch the stars for hours by myself when they weren't running shows. Look.

She pushes a button and the dome disappears, replaced by a night sky thick with stars.

She scoots closer to, resting her head on his shoulder.

She turns, looking at Zach's face.

His eyes are open wide in awe.

She smiles.

JENNA
Look, there's the Big Dipper - draw a line straight from the handle, and there's the North Star - watch.

The night sky begins to rotate, the moon spinning across the dome, planets revolving around the sun, everything moving except for the North Star.

ZACH
Ohhh.

JENNA
Wanna see this in context? I mean it's one thing to know this in theory, but to see it!

ZACH
Uh, sure.

JENNA
Ok, here's the sun...and look.

They race away from the solar system, whizzing past planets.

The entire room feels as if it has tilted on its axis, a domed spaceship, traveling through the dark of space.

Jenna adopts a storyteller's voice.

JENNA
We once thought the solar system was our universe...but Galileo started pushing the boundaries of that belief...

They whiz past more solar systems as they move further out until the stars with their planets are just dots in the Milky Way's cloudy arm.

JENNA
And then, we thought that just the Milk Way was the universe, but Hubble discovered that there were other galaxies packed with billions of stars.

The darkness explodes with galaxies.

JENNA
And what we know see as our universe, is packed with billions of galaxies.

They whizz even further out, until the galaxies are just points of light, stars all over again and then the massive ball of the universe is visible - an almost mystical appearing sphere of galaxies and star clusters.

Jenna takes a breath, taking it all in.

JENNA
Context? I'll give you context.

They whiz back into the universe, clouds becoming clusters of galaxies, racing past towards the other edge of the universe, flying in and out of clumps of galaxies.

The galaxies grow larger and then they are skimming through clouds of stars, past planets and towards the Milky Way.

They dive into it arms and slow down as they whiz past neighboring stars until the reach orbit around the sun.

They plunge back into earth's atmosphere and flip, the sky once again full of those distant stars.

Zach lets out a breath and shakes his head.

Jenna pushes herself up onto an elbow and looks at him.

e's wiping his eyes.

JENNA
Babe...

ZACH
I think that's the closest I'll ever get to touching the infinite.

JENNA
I know, this never ever gets old.

He grabs her and gives her a kiss.

ZACH
You're amazing, you know that? Thank you.

She smiles.

JENNA
Hungry?

She pulls a sandwich from the basket.

ZACH
Yes, please.

They both sit up and begin to eat, holding hands under the artificial, but no less beautiful, stars.

FADE TO BLACK.

305. Through the Wardrobe - Leslie

2008-10-31T23:34:00.000-07:00

 

FADE IN:

INT. BEDROOM - DAY

AMBER sits at her desk staring dreamily out at the beautiful summer day.

The grass outside the window is an almost artificial deep green and the large oak outside the window sways in the warm breeze.

The small, sunny bedroom is neatly organized with book-covered shelves and baskets.

Amber plays with her nose ring, rotating it.

She stops, hearing a noise, and spins around.

Her closet door opens slowly and AUGUST, a large, bald, handsome man, dressed in dark pants, a beautifully crafted vest, and an ornate cane in his hand.

He smiles at her.

AUGUST
Hello Amber.

AMBER
I was wondering if you would ever show up again. You look the same as you did when I was sixteen.

AUGUST
Would you like to come with me? You can stay.

AMBER
I thought it was against the rules.

AUGUST
Let's say...management had a change of heart in your case.

AMBER
I don't know.

AUGUST
You've wanted this all your life. Are you really happy here?

AMBER
No, but I won't be able to come back, will I?

August doesn't say anything.

She looks out the window, then at him and take a deep breath.

AMBER
Ok.

She walks over to him and he extends his hand.

She grabs it and he pulls her into the closet as the floor drops away beneath them and they fall.

INT. TUNNEL - INDETERMINATE TIME

They drop and Amber shouts at the thrill, falling down appears to be a bottomless pit.

EXT. THE BIG TENT - NIGHT

The sky opens and the drop into the atmosphere of a strange place, the sky covered in stars.

Below them is a massive circus tent that stretches across the land as far as they eye can see.

A hole opens in the top of the tent and they rocket through.

INT. THE BIG TENT - NIGHT

The drop into the tent, the ground still far below them, streets, parks, and smaller tents stretching out underneath them.

They slow and land gently on the ground.

Dancers and performers swarm...high above, trapeze artists swing towards their locations and dancers glide from red ribbon to red ribbon.

An acrobat dances gracefully inside a large silver ring that twirls wildly on the dirt floor, the pair of them defying gravity.

A woman with loose pants and corset-like shirts walks past, casually swinging flaming poi while a monkey sits glumly on her shoulder.

Amber grins, drinking everything in.

AMBER
I can really stay?

August smiles down at her and nods.

She grabs him, hugging him tight.

AMBER
Thank you.

She grabs his hand and they walk down the main street.

August smiles gently, then looks off, his eyes sad.

INT. HOSPITAL ROOM - DAY

AMBER lies motionless in a hospital bed, her arms covered with bruises, her face red with welts and lacerations.

Her MOTHER sits by the bed, holding her hand.

A DOCTOR walks in and her mother looks at him, hopefully.

He purses his lips and shakes his head.

DOCTOR
I'm sorry, there's very little chance she'll ever wake up.

Her mother slumps into the chair, never letting go of Amber's hand and looking out the window at the gray sky, as if she could pull hope from the air outside.

FADE TO BLACK.

304. Just Stay - Leslie

2008-10-30T20:09:00.000-07:00

 

FADE IN:

INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY

AMY sits by the window looking at the gloomy weather outside.

Rain slides down the glass and Amy's eyes follow it.

RYAN wanders into the room and comes up behind her.

RYAN
Hey, can I see the newness?

She ignores him.

He teasingly pulls at the back of her shirt, revealing the base of a fresh tattoo crawling up the left side of her back.

AMY
Quit.

RYAN
What's up?

AMY
Mmm.

She doesn't move.

RYAN
You know, communication might work.

AMY
Just leave me alone, please.

RYAN
Ok.

He begins to walk away.

She turns around.

AMY
You're supposed to say "No, you don't have to say anything, but I'm going to stay."

RYAN
Thanks for translating. Or you could consider just saving me the trouble and giving me an operating manual.

She turns away.

RYAN
I'm sorry. I'll stay.

AMY
Don't bother.

He turns, then stops, turns again, then walks back to her.

RYAN
I'll stay, but the games - a little tiring. I won't ever understand everything you're trying to say.

She stays focused on the rain drops.

He stands looking at her for a while.

RYAN
Ok, then.

Ryan sighs, then sits on the arm rest and waits, watching her.

FADE TO BLACK.

From Jail to Jesus and Back Again

2008-10-30T14:28:00.000-07:00

You thought you were going to enjoy the Indian summer breeze. You thought, wow, this is a nice autumn day. The wind was blowing through your hair as you were cruising down the road. You never thought in twenty minutes you were going to get escorted by Chattanooga's finest, right to the asshole of Hamilton County. That is jail. Ugh.

You said you were never coming back. But that's just become a mantra, a déjà vu ferris wheel with shiny bars in front of your window. It's not just the boredom that kills you. Time begins to transform into something holy and precious, like blood, once you realise it's being taken from you. It's being sucked out of you second by second.

You are told when to eat, and when to sleep on the cold concrete floor without a blanket or pillow, piled into a small room with forty other people.If you're lucky you won't be next to the silver toilet in the corner of the room, where everyone can see you do your business.

Finding someone in jail with an IQ over 90 is like discovering Jesus. You will latch onto them. Yes, it doesn't take long to realise you've fallen down the rabbit hole right to the very bottom of the gene-pool barrel. It's painful. You thought you were going to catch up on some classics. You were going to finally read that novel by Dostoevsky. You can't. It's too loud. You're lucky if you get a dog-eared pulp novel with half the pages missing!

But if you like chess or checkers, or spades you're in luck!!!!

I will contnue more later. But as you all know, Im back and enjoying my freedom at home. Even being able to drink a nice cup of real coffee has been like a religious experience. Okay, I'm out for now.

303. A Thousand Ways to Say I Love You - Leslie

2008-10-29T22:43:00.000-07:00

 

FADE IN:

INT. ARI AND MICA'S BEDROOM - MORNING

MICA lies on her back, bed sheets pulled to her waist.

ARI is flipped the other way, in loose, plaid pjs and a white undershirt.

He traces the large blue tattoo that swirls around Mica's bellybutton.

MICA
Mmm, that feels nice - what does your day look like?

ARI
Still working on the story.

MICA
Wow, that's going to be some article.

ARI
Woohoo for investigative journalism.

He flicks her bellybutton ring and it clinks metallically.

She giggles.

MICA
Well, lucky me, I'm meeting this new artist, I'd love to get her work in the gallery, just have to sell bossman on the idea.

ARI
Eh, good luck on that.

MICA
What's that quote about work you like?

ARI
The heights by great men reached and kept / Were not attained by sudden flight, / But they, while their companions slept, / Were toiling upward in the night. Longfellow.

MICA
Longfellow, right. Gosh, you are extraordinarily well-read darling.

ARI
Nah, I just liked surfing quote websites.

MICA
Ah, so you're an empty shell with a beautifully deceptive veneer?

You, my dear, have pierced me to the core.

Hand on her belly, he looks up at her and they smile.

MICA
Yes, yes I know dear. I do too. Now, stop distracting me, my artist won't wait.

He rolls over and she crawls out of bed, pulling sheets with her.

She stumbles over to him, kisses him on the forehead, then heads to the bathroom, tripping hard on the way.

She recovers and does an awkward plie, then attempts an arabesque.

He laughs and blows her a kiss.

She winks and disappears into the bathroom.

FADE TO BLACK.