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- FADE IN:
- Light leaks in through window shades, throwing beams of light across ERIC and AMELIA's blanket-wrapped bodies.
- They curve together, his arm wrapped around her waist.
- The sound of the train rumbles gently away, a constant, friendly growl dominating the background noise.
- Eric stirs and strokes Amelia's hair.
- He loses himself in the repetition.
- She blinks awake, yawns, then turns, half-facing him.
- ERIC
- Morning Mee.
- AMELIA
- Mmmm.
- ERIC
- One day.
- AMELIA
- Do you think we'll ever hate each other?
- ERIC
- No. Sometimes. I hope not.
- AMELIA
- I think we will, but I trust us to figure it out when we get there. We'll grow past it.
- ERIC
- My optimist.
- She grins.
- AMELIA
- Wow.
- Eric nods.
- She turns completely, facing him, their eyes inches away from each others.
- AMELIA
- Are you ready for this?
- ERIC
- Are you?
- AMELIA
- No, but I think we are.
- He kisses her.
- ERIC
- My optimist. We're on this crazy journey aren't we?
- AMELIA
- Yeah, babe. I'm scared too.
- He pulls her close.
- ERIC
- Mrs. O'Grady.
- AMELIA
- Mr. O'Grady.
- Their eyelashes touch, and then they embrace, holding each other tightly.
- FADE TO BLACK.
- 1.
Sailing her ocean
A sea of violet and lace
Lost in her doldrums.
- 2.
She bends, windblown child
Lost in riddles and mazes
Mental refugee.
- 3.
World traveler, he.
Citizen of nowhere, he.
Ever lost yet found.
- 4.
We traveled together
Across the speckled night sky.
Nomads and lovers.
- 5.
She dances with the wind
Journeys to ancient galaxies
Star-eyed traveller.
- Her lines are the curve of my earth.
A gently flowing embrace.
Her eyes, my oceans; her breasts, my mountains.
Her lines are the curve.
A whispered laugh.
Her fingers, my fjords; her hair, my sky.
Her lines are.
A poem read softly.
Her lips, my hills; her arms, my streams.
Her lines.
A cathedral in a desert.
Her stomach, my meadows, her legs, my rivers.
Her.
- FADE IN:
- HAROLD K. POWERS stands on the sidewalk, tapping his foot impatiently.
- He sees his dark sedan drive to the corner and let's out a sigh.
- The car pulls to curb.
- The DRIVER hops out of the car, cap pulled low, and opens the back door.
- Harold steps into the car, giving the driver a meaningful glare.
- He pauses, seeing the man's face; it seems unusually pale.
- The door slams, and the driver re-enters the front seat.
- They begin driving winding along side streets to avoid the traffic clogging the city's main arteries.
- The car pulls into an empty industrial lot and stops.
- HAROLD
- Hey! Why are we stopping here.
- The door opens and the driver sticks his head in the back, his hat is off, revealing skin painted white and twisted clown eye drawn onto his face.
- Harold recoils.
- The driver pulls Harold from the car with ease, despite Harold's struggling.
- HAROLD
- Help! Help!
- The driver flips Harold into a choke-hold, and presses Harold's neck gently.
- Harold's eyes roll, and he slumps.
- Harold jerks, slowly waking up.
- He is bound to a chair.
- As his eyes adjusts, he sees that his is surrounded by a thick circle of people in demented clown makeup.
- He recoils.
- A WOMAN steps from the crowd.
- Her short, spiky hair is bleached, tipped in dark red.
- Her face is painted half white, half black, with black and white swirls crisscrossing into the halves. Her dark red lips carry a painted sneer, accentuating their actual sardonic curl.
- She wears a flowing dress and a dark corset.
- She circles his chair, studying him.
- Harold attempts to mimic her sneer, playing at being unafraid.
- HAROLD
- And who are you?
- She smiles.
- MS. A
- You can call me Ms. A. I'll be your host this evening.
- She stares at him, and he wilts.
- HAROLD
- Look, why are you doing this? I can pay whatever you want, what do you want?
- The circle moves in tighter, menacing.
- HAROLD
- Please, please, I'll pay however much you want?
- MS. A
- I'd like my family back.
- HAROLD
- Excuse me?
- MS. A
- In 1987, you invested in Myers Petrochemicals. They flooded my little town with chemicals. The river stank from the rotting fish. We fought and fought, but you never listened. And then one by one, my parents, my siblings began to die, cancer, infections, diseases the doctors had no names for. And I am the only one who has escaped to tell you.
- A MAN steps forward.
- A beret covers his dark curly hair.
- His face is painted pure white, and as he looks up, Harold sees that his eyes are pure white as well, his pupils covered by white contacts. His lips, painted black, stand out in stark contrast.
- MR. RAINBOW
- I'm Mr. Rainbow.
- HAROLD
- Rainbow?
- Mr. Rainbow's expression doesn't change.
- MR. RAINBOW
- I like irony.
- He leans closer and Harold pushes back against the chair.
- MR. RAINBOW
- In 1994, your company closed it's factory in Toledo, declaring bankruptcy, robbing thousands of workers of their pensions. Half a year later, the company would miraculously resurrect, at least that's what the Wall Street Journal thought. You moved all your factories to China, blinking at abuse and the loss of dignity of the workers there, because you saved millions on their slave labor. My father never recovered from losing his job and pension. He killed himself. My mother disappeared one night; I raised my siblings. I am the only one who has escaped to tell you.
- He steps back and a shorter WOMAN comes forward.
- 3
- I am 3.
- 3 speaks in the beautifully flowing tones of Columbia.
- She walks with a slight limp.
- She wears a skirt, with fishnet stockings crisscrossing down her legs to black boots.
- Her black hair is tied into two buns held together by chopsticks.
- Her graphic tee is covered with strange symbols splashed in red.
- Only half of her face is painted, in the style of a beautiful venetian mask, the lips warped into a devilish curve.
- The other half of her face is badly scarred.
- Harold can't look at her and tries to focus on the right side of her face or the floor.
- 3 steps close to him.
- She takes his chin and pulls it up.
- 3
- Look at me.
- He flinches, but she holds firm.
- 3
- In 1993, the private security firm you were the chairman of was sent to Columbia to help train the military to fight FARC. My father wrote for a socialist newspaper. They came to our house one day; they tortured my father to death, but not before they had raped my mother and I in front of him. They shot my mother and they tortured me. I was five. Look at me. You did this. And I am the only one who has escaped to tell you.
- Another woman steps forward.
- HAROLD
- Please, no more.
- MS. A
- You have done this. Every one of these stories hold a pain you inflicted. We are your judge and jury, and we find you guilty. You've been weighed. You are wanting.
- HAROLD
- What are you going to do to me?
- 3 steps forward, Harold pulls back.
- 3
- Forgive you.
- MS. A
- We forgive you.
- They step back into the shadows, disappearing.
- Harold sits alone, in the circle of light.
- He twists in the chair, and finds the ropes have been loosened.
- He lifts his hands, and watches the rope slide away from his wrist.
- FADE TO BLACK.
- FADE IN:
- JEREMY rides his bike slowly down the street, wobbling every so often as he slows to stare at the large black box he clutches in his left hand.
- He grins at the box, unaware of the squad car in front of him.
- An OFFICER looks out the window of the car and spots the black box.
- OFFICER MUNEZ
- Gun!
- His partner jumps outside of the car, gun drawn.
- OFFICER MUNEZ
- Kid! Stop.
- Jeremy looks up and hits the breaks, but keeps going forwardl; he panics and tries to speed up.
- Munez and his partner fire.
- Jeremy falls, clutching the box.
- Officer Munez approaches carefully, gun drawn.
- He kneels over Jeremy's bloody body.
- He sees the black box.
- OFFICER MUNEZ
- Oh God.
- He carefully pulls the top of the box off, revealing a single, long-stemmed blood-orange daisy with a note tied around the stem.
- He buries his face in his hands.
- OFFICER MUNEZ
- God.
- Cameras flash as the crime scene team surrounds Jeremy's body.
- A GLOVED HAND slowly pulls the rose from the box.
- A camera flashes.
- Jeremy pores over the selection of daisies, and finally picks the one he likes.
- The store keeper starts to box it.
- JEREMY
- Wait, please.
- He pulls small note from his pocket and wraps it around the stem.
- The store keeper places the flower and note in a black box.
- A camera flashes and an INVESTIGATOR pulls an intricately twisted piece of wire with cowry shell in the center from Jeremy's pocket.
- A camera flashes.
- Jeremy runs in the sand, trying to catch ANGEL.
- She never faces us, her long hair wrapping around her face and back.
- Something catchers her eye, and she stops, kneeling in the sand.
- She pulls a cowry shell trapped in some wire from the sand, and begins reshaping the wire.
- Cameras flash around the scene, and the coroner waits above the body.
- An investigator pulls the blood-spattered bike up from the ground.
- A camera flashes.
- Angel and Jeremy race their bikes along the sidwalks of Beverly Hills.
- Patrons at roadside cafes glance nervously at the black kids racing along the streets.
- Jeremy catches their looks and makes a face at Angel.
- She laughs, and he grins, caught up in her joy.
- He slams into the side of the table, and his pantsleg rips.
- Her laughter rings out again.
- The zipping of a body bag becomes the focal point of the crime scene for a moment, sirens seeming to quiet for a moment in respect.
- Jeremy's body is placed on a gurney, and wheeled past Officer Munez, who sits at the corner of a curb, still clutching his head.
- A camera flashes.
- FADE TO BLACK.
- Okay, I'm pissed. I'll just get to the point. I'm pissed because someone spent $1,000 an hour on a prostitute, sometimes $4,000 a pop. I've never owned a car worth more than $4,000. My car probably had less miles on it, but still!
What's this chick doing that's worth that much money? How much better can a blowjob really get? Is there some kind of sexual strata out there that I'm unaware of? Is she a Hindu godess with four arms or something? If I were in jail with this cat, I'd so beat the shit out of him while I was thinking about all the unemployed and starving families out there. Yeah, his wife looks meh, but so what, I'm sure he could have found a $200 hooker that would have sufficed. I'm sure she would have done all the same things, maybe even more.
That guy is killing me. And speaking of killing me, I take my previous comment back about beating the shit out of him. If he can afford to spend eighty grand on courtesans then he could put out a hit on me.
It might just be me, but I think there's something wrong when a woman from California spends $100,000 to have her dog cloned in Korea because she loves it so much.
In the end, I know, I know, it's their money. Whether they earned it through our tax dollars or not they have the right to do with it what they want. I know, I know. But I can still bitch. Okay, I'm done.
- FADE IN:
- Note: In the following, the CAMERA is a silent character. The film is intended took take place in a single fluid shot.
- ALYS balances on the edge of the sidewalk, dangerously close to the street.
- She wears paint splattered jeans, a graphic tee, and worn vegan shoes.
- Her nose ring glistens in the sun.
- She turns to CAMERA.
- She comes closer and puts a finger to her lips.
- ALYS
- Listen.
- She begins walking and Camera follows.
- Two WELL-DRESSED WOMEN walk towards them on the sidewalk.
- WELL-DRESSED WOMAN 1
- ...and we slept on cots, you know, just on the floor.
- WELL-DRESSED WOMAN 2
- Yeah, you'd just lay them out when it got too hot...
- Their voices fade and blend into the a FRAZZLED FATHER leaning down to his seven year old DAUGHTER who clutches his hand tightly.
- FRAZZLED FATHER
- Mia, please be careful, I don't need you busting open another... Mia!
- Alys and Camera move past them, and Alys turns to admire the colorful cloth in the windows of the fabric stores lining the sidewalk.
- TWO MEN, one in skinny jeans and a busy graphic tee, the other in baggy jeans and an undershirt walks slowly past Alys and Camera.
- MAN IN SKINNY JEANS
- Oh honey! Sometimes I just want to curl up with the internet and turn his pages. Mmmm.
- Alys grins at camera as the couple fade out of earshot.
- A HOMELESS MAN sits under a large storefront window and holds a large, dirty cardboard sign which reads "Withdrawing in disgust is not the same thing as apathy."
- Alys stands for a long moment looking at the sign.
- The homeless man smiles and hands her a quarter, she grins back and curtsies.
- Alys waves camera on and they cross the street.
- A MAN ON A CELL walks in front of them, speaking quietly
- MAN ON CELL
- May, May? It's James. Is that really you? Yes, yes. I love you so much. No, please don't say that, I don't blame you at all. It's alright. I've found you now.
- Alys turns to Camera one last time, and nods, solemn.
- She turns, and walks into a crowd, as Camera stands, watching her disappear.
- FADE TO BLACK.
