[…] July is Scene-Writing Month here at Go Into The Story. Every Monday-Friday at noon Eastern / 9AM Pacific, I will upload a post with a prompt for writing a script scene. Each day, write a scene per those guidelines. If you really want to get …read more […]

Prompt idea: write a scene which ends with someone's death and a new character.

SCENE 15 (PROMPT: A scene that features a monologue.) INT. CEO OFFICE – FREDDY’S FUN BURGERS – NIGHT RICHARD WISER (56) sits at his desk, lost in thought. There’s a knock at the door before his assistant, JONATHON MILES (31) enters with papers. JONATHON: Sir? RICHARD: Yes? JONATHON: The papers you requested. RICHARD (in thought): Papers? Huh? Oh—the papers. Thank you, Jonathon. JONATHON: Is everything all right, sir? RICHARD: What have we done? JONATHON: Done, sir? RICHARD: Do you… do you eat the food we make? JONATHON: I’m a vegetarian, sir. RICHARD: Would you… if you weren’t a… would you eat the food this company puts out? JONATHON: Well… that’s a hard question to answer. Beat. RICHARD: I had a burger from Freddy’s Fun Burgers fifteen years ago. It was one of the best damn burgers I’d ever had. Juicy, tender, just the way a burger should be. You know how many I’ve had since I became CEO? None. And now here I am. Faced with whether to bring Freddy’s back to what it once was… to have that juicy hamburger… or to go the other way. You know, it’s not easy running a company. I can understand why they made the choices they have in the past—how we’ve gotten to this point. Over the years I myself have had to make sacrifices. Had to do things to stay afloat--to make a profit. Do you know what I’m talking about?—it doesn’t matter because here we are. Reynolds promises their meat doesn’t contain any pesticides or preservatives. It’d cost us over fifty cents a burger to go with them though. But they’re healthier and better for you. But at that price they could sink the company. And Ostago’s is offering us patties at nineteen cents. That could bring us back, son. Could make us break the Fortune 500 again, restore Freddy’s to the top burger chain in the world. But who’s to say what’s better? (beat) I… I just don’t know. For years, I’ve thought about this day, this moment, and wondered what I would decide. I always left the problem to my future self, too much going on back then to worry. But now the contracts are up, and the dilemma has approached, and I’m no wiser today than I was three—five—hell, fifteen years ago when I first started. We all know what Ostago’s will do to the public, but it could bring us back to being number one. But Reynolds—they’re a good burger. Healthy. We won’t have to worry about what that does to someone’s body. Do you… do you think a company can rise with an all natural product like that? It’d be a tough slog, we’d be losing profits guaranteed with that pricing. The company may even can me before we start seeing profits. So what’s the right answer, Jonathon? What do I do? I’ve got a family to support. I hold a multi-billion dollar company in one hand and people’s health in the other. How does one decide which to go with? Beat. JONATHON: Do you have kids, Mr. Wiser? RICHARD: Yes. Two sons. Both seventeen. JONATHON: I have a daughter… RICHARD: Congratulations. JONATHON: …And I can tell you I’ve never let her eat from here. Beat. RICHARD: Is that so? JONATHON: Yes, sir, it is. RICHARD: I see. Is there a reason? JONATHON: You’ve done a generous job of supplying yourself with that answer, sir. Beat. RICHARD: I guess I have, haven’t I. Beat. Jonathon looks to go, but turns back with one last thought: JONATHON: Sir. RICHARD: Hm? JONATHON: If it were me—in this situation that you now see yourself in, I’d ask myself a question. RICHARD: And what is that? JONATHON: Being a father who wants nothing but the best for his daughter, I’d just ask if I myself would eat what I’m selling. Jonathon turns and leaves. Richard picks up both contracts, holds one in each hand. Weighing his options. A moment passes. He puts one in the trash. The others gets his signature.

Okay, I went all dark with this one. SCENE 12 INT. BEDROOM - PAST MIDNIGHT Lights are out. Dimma, 16 year old girl, sits on her bed, crossed legs, her laptop in front of her. She holds something sharp in her hand, plays with it. She looks at her laptop screen, the camera is running. This whole video blogging thing is new to her. She raises her hand as if she’s greeting someone. DIMMA: Hi, I even don’t know why I say hi, to whom. (keeps playing with razor in her hand. Few beats silence. She looks uncomfortable. This whole video blogging thing is new to her). I think, I should give you a name like I did with my diaries . Make you kind of a friend, you know, someone who’s there for me, who can listen to my feelings without worrying you will tell anyone else. (she holds still. Her attention is somewhere else). Listen up, do you hear that? They are fighting again. I HATE them. I hate living here. I wish I had my own peaceful place. I can’t wait till I’m eighteen and go off to college. They don’t care how everyone else is doing. (beat…her eyes well). I’m invisible to them. I tried to talk to my mum but every time she ignores me and says she has troubles on her mind too. I should to talk to my friends. (beat) Which friends? (sigh) You’re my new friend. (smiles) Hi friend (greets to camera with hand). I should give you a name. (jumps over to new subject. She opens up her hand. It bleeds. The razor has left a few small cuts. She doesn’t care. She lifts up a sleeve. We see deep marks of razor cuts). I couldn’t feel anything for months. I started cutting my arm to feel alive, to feel anything. You know, sometimes my body feels numb. Cutting myself saved me from drowning. My mum ignores my arm. One day at breakfast she saw my arm and she lashed out at me. She screamed ’kill yourself if you don’t like to be alive. I don’t care’. (she cries) I want her to care but she doesn’t. I feel invisible, empty. I even don’t know when it started. One day it was there. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think clearly. All I wanted to do was not live. I took a razor and cut myself. The blood made me feel alive. For the first time since ages, I felt alive. (plays with her razor and screeches on her hand with it). I want it to be quiet in my head, in my home, in my life. A place where I can be me, where I can live. Someone is noticing me. Asking me how I’m doing. Everyone in this house has their own stuff. My dad doesn’t talk to me. He’s obsessed with everything else save for his family. He stays away days and nights, goes to his other family. This drives my mum crazy. She is miserable. I can’t remember when she wasn’t. He has always been this way. I don’t remember him caring. My school is going bad. People ignore me. Like they now I’m from a moron family. I feel so empty. A teacher told me to talk to someone. Here I’m talking to you, my online help buddy. I should give you a name. I think Coraline, she has a dark personality too. (brings razor to arm and stops). Even if you’re not real, I feel that you listen. My mum never wanted me. She said I was a mistake, a problem she had to deal with. I guess my problem started when I was born. I can’t wait to leave this house soon. (she cuts her arm. Blood drops appear. She stares at it and relieves the pressure of the razor). I guess the teacher was right. I feel awful (cries). I wish the awful feeling would get away. At least I’m not dead right? I’m feeling again. (razor drops out of her hand). Bye, Coraline. (She turns of the video camera and burries her face in her pillow. She makes herself small. Minutes pass, crying. Then, she lifts up her head and turns on the screen). I don’t wanna be alone. (she falls asleep while the camera runs on. Blood stains spread on her white sheet)

I didn't have enough time to adjust the lines after pasting my text. Sorry if it looks like a mess to you.

Scene 8 (I think! Help, I’ve lost count!) INT. HOSPITAL – NIGHT Plugged into tubes and drips and monitors, Dominic (55) sleeps. Josh (24) sits beside the bed. Feet up on the bedframe, practicing sleight-of-hand with a coin. JOSH: I knew all along, of course. That day you walked into the Dairy Queen, stared down at me over my milkshake and announced you were my father. I knew. But what was I going to do? Stay in fucking Peoria, with a junkie mom and the local cops already coming after me for every petty crime in town? The coin appears and disappears between his fingers, in and out of pockets, behind his ear and into his hair. JOSH: I was lucky, really, wasn’t I? Fifteen year old boy and a total stranger. You could have been a goddamn pervert. But you weren’t. I was there to handle your suitcases and your housework, not your dick. And I watched, and I learned. I picked pockets, climbed drainpipes, forged paperwork, cast keys. Mastered every accent in America and Europe, and some of the languages to go with them. Learned how to recognize if someone wanted to be feared or loved, and how to manipulate them accordingly. Which women to seduce and which to flatter by treating them as equals. Made you money. A lot of money. Just waiting for you to say “Thank you, Josh. Well done, Josh. I’m proud of-” His voice cracks. He takes a breath. JOSH: Did you say that to Wade? Or any of the others – because there were others, weren’t there, lots of others? Every few years, you’d stumble across a new bright kid in some backwater, and one day your current apprentice just wakes up and you’re… He opens his hand. The coin has disappeared into thin air. JOSH: And you taught me well, I’ll give you that. I don’t need anything from you. Not now. But Wade does, and if you couldn’t say it to any of the others, you’re damn well going to say it to him before you die. Or I’ll kill you myself.

SCENE 15 - INT. JAKE'S APARTMENT - DAY JAKE is a 20-something agoraphobic living in a studio apartment, paid for by his parents. Jake sits in the "kitchen", which is just a cheap fold-out table next to his refrigerator. Across from Jake is his therapist, MAX, an scholarly looking man in his late 50's. Jake is dressed in a sweater, slacks and dress shoes, as if he were going to Easter Brunch. MAX So Jake, let's do a quick recap, shall we? You're dressed great, you're looking well, you seem to be showering and taking care of yourself. JAKE You've noticed. MAX It would be impossible not to. You look like a completely different person. JAKE I don't feel like one. An awkward pause. MAX Jobs, your mother said you're looking for a job? JAKE No. No. Uh, no. Not now. I'm not ready. MAX Okay then... (scribbles in pad) No job... How's the medication? Are you still on that? JAKE We'll get to that later. Max gulps, as if he'd rather not know. MAX Have you been sleeping okay? Getting decent sleep? JAKE You could say that again. MAX Do you sleep too much? JAKE Well, what's too much? MAX I think anything more than 9, 10 hours is too much. JAKE Well I need it. MAX And why's that? JAKE I'm exhausted, all the time. MAX But Jake, and I mean this with no offense intended, but you literally just sit in your room all day, not once leaving this apartment. Your life seems anything but exhausting. JAKE I'm not a liar. MAX No, Jake, I'm not calling you a liar, I just...here, how about this, run through your day for me. JAKE My day? Sheesh. Well, I wake up. Obviously. I lay in bed for like an hour, sometimes two, sometimes reading on my phone or reading through twitter or whatever, but usually I'm just thinking. I just start with one thought, then it goes to another, and before you know it time is just gone. So eventually I'm tired of feeling like a useless piece of shit, so I will get out of bed, cook something, usually cereal with milk, though I've been using Almond Milk because that's all my mom bought, that bitch. Anyways, I'll eat food, then usually around 1:30 or 2:00 I'll masturbate. That'll usually last me half an hour, sometimes an hour depending on my mood. After that I take a shower, because I remember you told me to, and then in the shower I'll do some more thinking. MAX And what do you think about? JAKE Everything. My life. What a scrawny piece of shit I was when I was little. About that one time I should've kissed Mindy Sokolowski in 2nd grade at the Science Fair field trip. Sometimes, okay, most of the time, I'll play out some elaborate fantasy in my head of how I'll meet a girl, sometimes it's Mindy, and we'll embark on this crazy romance, we get married, have kids, yadda yadda. Sometimes I develop a drug problem and my family stages an intervention and I fantasize about everything they would read to me off of their letters. Then, before you know it, it's 6 PM. Which is about the time my refractory period has completely reset, and it's my second masturbation session of the day. Sometimes it's the best, sometimes it's bleh, but it's always enjoyable. Then, comes dinner, and I- MAX Jake, do you ever wonder if you would have more energy if you didn't masturbate so much? Maybe that's what's causing this chronic exhaustion? JAKE Uhhh....no. So then, like I was saying, dinner...

Day 15 (5th entry so far - I'm skipping around) INT. SPACE STATION The GALACTIC REALTOR displays prime real estate around the galaxy on a holographic projection. GALACTIC REALTOR: You can buy your own moon for a trillion dollars. That’s your basic gravitation package, housing unit, energy matrix, the whole nine. Now if you want something bigger, you can up grate to a planetoid. Anything naturally habitable will cost a minimum of 100 trillion. And that’s not even your Pluto sized rocks. But in the long run it will make its money back in 100 years with eco, bio, and geo farming opportunities. Now I know that you’re thinking. For a 100 T, why not just build a fleet of space ships and travel the galaxy there and back again. Well, if you’re thinking of launching those ships before the Sun goes supernova, you better have access to a tier 3 nanotech factory. Otherwise your printing and replicating time would put christening the first ship in two years. And nothing’s going to be here in two years. If you want my advice, I say escaping extinction is worth all the money you have. And for 500 Trillion, you can purchase a one way ticket through a sub space worm hole to any point in earth’s past. Now, any ethical questions or morale dilemmas about where you go or what you do we leave up to that timeline’s earthlings to figure out. So now you’re asking, then what can I get for a 1000 T? Well that’s just where the fun beings. For that low price, you and your loved ones will be integrated into a quantum computer matrix with limitless power housed in a super indestructible quantum sphere where you all can interact with your minds and live out any reality you choose till past the end of time and through the birth and death of every universe yet to come. Pretty snazzy right? It’s the best in post apocalypse living. But if you’re looking for the most cost efficient option, for just twenty dollars I can put you out of this existential crisis and shoot you in the head right now. So what will it be? A GUN COCKS.

#15 7/21 INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT It pushes midnight. Jansen interviews Woolskie. He reaches into his freezer which contains empty ice trays, cheap coffee, and Whiskey. He pulls out the obvious choice, shows her the green bottle. His I-phone records the audio of this “interview”. JANSEN Want a hit? WOOLSKIE-Sure. He pulls down two shot down glasses from his cupboard. One is shaped like a green cactus, the other has an illustration of Elvis. He shows them to her. JANSEN-Cactus or Elvis. WOOLSKIE-Dealer’s choice. As he pours, JANSEN-So, that self expression thing you were talking about,...I mean, what’s the difference between like what you do, and what Weed Wolf does. He turns, hands her the Elvis shot glass. She holds it up, and stares Jansen down. It becomes clear that he has insulted her as she holds the shot at eye level. WOOLSKIE-Are you seriously asking me the difference between my work and Weed Wolfs? Well, it’s simple, one of us goes in and defaces private and public property in a form of self expression which the one doing the expressing considers him or herslef to be making art, the other just writes, “Weed Wolf”, with a fucking marker dipped in acetone, which is why they can’t get his stupid name off anything by the way as acetone burns into the concrete. One of us spends a lot, a lot of time and energy just considering, “What would look good here, will this stop and make someone think? Will this make someone actually look up from their fucking I-phone and maybe view my work for thirty seconds? The other one just writes “Weed Wolf”, then goes about his or her day. Which is fine, but really, it’s not. Writing “Weed Wolf” once, I get it, but to make that be your whole fucking cannon of work, Jesus fuck! It is the artist job to challenge themselves with each and every piece of art, so if you want to ask me the difference between me and that fuck, put my work up against his, and I’m pretty sure you’ll see the fucking difference as the work speaks for itself. I did bring up self expression. But for you to ask about the difference between my work and some jack ass tagging shit? You know what the difference is, everyone does, they just don’t have the stones to call it like it is. They just want to get caught up in the debate so they don’t have to be the debate. They watch from the sidelines. They talk about what other people are doing, because then, they don’t have to do anything. It’s a fucked up state of affairs, and even more fucked up state of mind, if you ask me. She shakes her head, gets ready to shoot from the Elvis glass. He palms the top of it, stops her. JANSEN-You should definitely use the cactus one.

SCENE 1 INT. HOTEL BALLROOM The room is full of sharp dressed older men eating and drinking at each of the 20 round tables. At each exit stands two large men with semi-automatic machine guns slung across their chest. JASK, a rotund older man stands and walks to the front of the room. He raises his hand and a bell in the back of the room rings. The crowd stops eating and turns to view Jask. JASK Go back to eating your dinner. I'll be short. Some in the crowd return to eating. JASK (cont'd) I want to start with a little story. When I was young, I had a pony named Jackson. I loved that damned pony and I rode him everyday. One night Jackson got outside the fence and was hit by a truck, he was in great pain and soon died. Freedom killed Jackson. If only Jackson had stayed in his fenced in world, all would have been fine. Jask shakes his head back and forth and sighs. JASK (cont'd) Why am I telling this story? Because, some in here are outside of the fence, reaching for freedom, and freedom gets you killed. Johnny Starks was one of the ponies, and like my pony Jackson, freedom killed him. Let's have a moment of silence for our good friend Johnny. Jask bows his head. JASK (cont'd) Some of you may still be lost, wondering what the hell is going on. Well, the rumors you heard were true. I will be taking over all operations within the Detroit area. I like it here. You are all welcome to stay, but you will be underlings to me. I control the ships, trucks, and trains. Everything you need to get your product into the city. Earlier this evening paid off the unions, police, and everyone else I might need in the future. They had two choices: money or death. All of them chose money. Thank you for coming, finish your meals and make your decisions. It was a pleasure doing business with all of you. The large men guarding the doors open them to allow more armed men to enter, guns ready. Jask walks out of the room whistling as he goes.

Scene 15 Today’s prompt: A scene that includes a monologue. EXT. MOSCOW RIVER PARK - NIGHT Alex steps out his car, walks back to the Vasilich’s Limousine, the rear door stands open. INT. LIMOUSINE - NIGHT Alex, uncertain for the first time, sits back next to Vasilich. ALEX: You could have called. I’ve had a rough night. Vasilich in complete control. VASILICH: Yes you have… I was curious to meet you Batya. There are many rumors about you. That you nearly own my town. You came from nowhere, started your journey with nothing, believing some idealistic bull-shit and now you control the heart of my town. I honestly didn't take you seriously. I couldn't wait to see if you ended up in jail or got yourselves killed. I underestimated you twenty-five year old guys. You eventually became the toughest men in Moscow. Legally. The rumor is that you are a strong wise organization, but in reality you're nothing more than cigarette vendor. You guys were good until you decided to cross the path that didn't belong to you. You stepped on the toes of the government. You decided to interfere with the national interest of Russia. Let me tell you something, you can do whatever you want, but you shouldn't step further into where you don't belong. Hmmm. Did you really think you could become the main distributor of Marlboro in my town, by trying to close the other factories, my factories. Or maybe you thought because you entered this new era of the capitalistic system, that you legally can do that? Do anything you want? I started like you guys a long time ago. I like your approach to fixing things the right way. I was impressed how you managed to clean up Kalininsky Prospect. You made it respectable. Putting everything in order, you even erased whoever tried to cross your path on the way to your success. Legalized the racketeering. Most importantly you've never been criminals. You are smart intelligent guys, full of enthusiasm and clear hearts. I have a proposal for you. I'm offering you to work for me, but only with one condition. You should do only what I will tell you to do. You better think about it. I can change my mind. If you decide to play a game with me, and try to do something else instead of selling cigarette, I, your God, won't be over-considerate with you any more. EXT. MOSCOW RIVER PARK - NIGHT Alex steps out, hesitates, turns back to Vasilich. ALEX: You were protecting me all the time. The door closes. Alex watches Vasilich drive away.

SCENE FIFTEEN EXT. STREET, NEW YORK – MORNING CARRIE runs up the street, holding a gym bag, her purse, and an oversized shopping bag, dressed in business clothes, but wearing an exercise headband and gym shoes. She turns the corner and sprints up to a car, frantically checking her watch as she goes. She slows when she gets close enough to see a PARKING TICKET on the windshield. CARRIE (out of breath, angry): Fuck. You’ve got to be kidding me. Fuck. She drops the gym bag and the shopping bag on the ground, and begins fumbling through her purse. A disheveled MAN sits on the ground near her car, holding a cup and a sign that reads “HELP OF ANY KIND APPRECIATED. GOD BLESS.” MAN: Excuse me, miss? Carrie turns to glare at him. CARRIE: Sorry, I don’t have any cash on me. MAN: No, it’s just- CARRIE: Look, sir, I can’t help you okay? And I’ve got enough to fucking deal with today without the little guilt trip you’re about to throw at me. I’m not going to apologize for the fact that my shoes cost forty seven times what’s in your cup or whatever bullshit you’ve got scripted cause I’ve heard it already this morning. From that ever-so-pleasant girl on Jefferson. So I’ve hit my quota of anonymous judgment before nine fucking AM if that’s all right with you. And I’m sure you’ve had some crazy life and you never planned to end up here, but I’ve got a fucking revelation for you: neither did I. You think I wanted to be the crazy lady on the street lecturing the homeless man before work when I was seven? I thought I was gonna be a fucking revolutionary or an artist or something of goddamn meaning. And now I’m working sixty fucking hours a week for a pervy shit of a man and it’s my own damn fault because I thought it’d be a wonderful fucking idea to go to art school and student the Dialogue of Modern Expression, which six years later, I can say with certainty means jackshit. That phrase doesn’t even make sense. So now I’m waist deep in student loans – and parking tickets apparently and the fact that I have a car or a gym membership or whatever you’re ready to accuse me of having doesn’t mean my life isn’t a giant, shitty, fucking disaster, and- MAN (firmly, but kindly): Ma’am. He points to her feet. Carrie stops talking and looks down, seeing a crumpled $20 bill at her feet next to her open gym bag. MAN: You may want to zip your bag. Carrie stares at her feet, mortified. CARRIE: I, um, sorry. I… er, thanks. I just, assumed… The man smiles up at her, entertained by her discomfort. MAN: Naturally. Carrie checks her watch, and takes a deep before unlocking her car and throwing her bags in. She turns back to the man. CARRIE: Can I buy you a coffee? Or a bagel?

Scene 7 I'm on a racing freeway, no... not the Audubon, but it could be I guess. I have to contemplate what defines one freeway from another? Are we all not in some sort of a champion vehicular race? On a speedway, a highway.. But for what?? We are in our fiberglass bodies ingesting our fuel, checking our gauges, dipping our dipsticks, blowing gas.... We are all headed for the same destination... this big race? The big something, the big destination... what or where is this destination? What is waiting when we get to it? what defines " it"? And how do we know when we get there? These immense thoughts have my brain feeling like its swelling and going to explode out of my head any freakin moment... What is this big "thing" we all are racing towards? Is there a big giant clock in the sky that if someone is the quickest one to get there they get to blow a certain horn or they win a giant prize?? Or is this life the grand ultimate prize? What drives our fate, our creations, our Picasso, our symphonies? Once the masterpiece is complete, then what? Are we the masterpiece, am I a masterpiece? Or do the clouds part and gold falls from the sky like rain? Who determines who is the best, the strongest, the fastest? Where do I come in? What if I am only of spare tire, sagging bumper and dim headlights, filling the air of stagnate smog and ethylene.. But what if? What if I as me blow "the" horn?? Eventually do we all get a horn to honk? Is there even a horn at all? Do only the winners win, and the losers lose? What happens if you are only a loser? Is there no horn at all? Or what if the losers sound the horn and the winners do something else, and what would that be? Did not we all win a race at some point as a traveling organism? What I really mean is orgasm, because that's what we really are... an orgasm. Yes that's right...Bottom line every single one of of us is a full blown ejaculation, not the one people always joke about, well I mean they always say to me anyways, I am "the one momma should have swallowed",only I am not a misfire, not a blank, I am however, I am a true racing orgasm, the one... the winner of the ultimate race of all, the champion granted this life as we call it. Oh I know sometimes there are two or more orgasms but one still has to win right? Or if there are twins or multiples someone is still first to fertilize or win "the race". And then what is next after that? Am I dwelling too much in rhetorical thought? Questions.... answers? Questions with answers? Or answers with questions? A fast pace racing to death, then what, heaven? hell? Is it just as simple as that?

SCENE 15____________________________________ a MAN(31) sits on a chair. MAN: Hi!(Beat)you remember me right?(Beat)No? His smile drops, disappointed MAN: Thats alright. He smiles, MAN: I'll make you remember. MAN: Can you recall? A little boy,(Beat)Playing with his train?Oh, I can still remember him(Beat)Smiling like the happiest person in his life! Of course he would be, his loving Dad bought him the latest, SPEEDWHEELES TRAIN! (Laughs) His expression changes to sorrow MAN: Poor boy, doesn't know, losing a train or a toy wouldn't be more sorrowful than losing his Dad. As he is talking, the background behind his chair changes. In blur in the background, we see a little boy playing with his train, while the man stays in focus. The door behind the boy swings open, the shadow reveals a man standing by the door. MAN(sighs): I head a story, always amazes me, There was this detective who finds a beautiful lady lying dead, shot, three times in the chest. BACKGROUND: a lady comes enters the room as he says, mommy, the lady cheerfully runs out of the door as we see in the shadow both hugging. MAN: This detective, finds muddy footprints leading somewhere, he gets excited, it is his lucky day, he follows the prints leading to a house, TRIING! The doorbell rings and a maid opens the door. She says, welcome mr clay, he is surprised, he asks how do you know my name, why do you welcome me? BACKGROUND : three shots are fired as the blood splatters by the doorway and her body falls. MAN: The maid says, you are my master of course thats why, you live here. (Laughs) He moves in to find the dead lady's picture, he asks the maid, how do you know her?, she says, she is ypur wife mr clay. It is then that he realises that he is the murderer. BACKGROUND : a man enters the, the kid is dumbfounded looking at her mom, the man yells and swifts over to her body, as in the shadows the man walks away, the background fades out. The CAMERA pans To reveal another man, Joe, sitting in front of him, tied up, he is calm. MAN You see, Joe, I had just pulled the trigger, she died because of your actions. Dont worry I'll send your kid to a good orphanage. He raises the gun and fires on his face as Joe's back faces the CAMERA. __________________________________________ Thank you for reading. Please comment and let me know how it could've been better. Thanks again =)

-SCENE 15- INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT An APARTMENT BUZZER RINGS. A few seconds pass. IT RINGS AGAIN. A few more seconds pass. IT RINGS continuously. JESS (28) emerges, throwing a robe on. JESS: Dear, God. (Into the intercom) Hello? DAVE (O.S.): Jess? Jess? JESS: Yeah? DAVE (O.S.): Let me in. JESS: Dave? DAVE (O.S.): Yeah, Dave. Who the fuck else? She buzzes him up. A moment passes, and someone tries to open the locked front door. Jess opens it. DAVE (30) barges in. His knuckles are bleeding and he has a huge gash across his forehead. He goes straight to the kitchen sink. DAVE: This city is a mess. I don't know how you live here. Motherfuckers- JESS: You're a mess. DAVE: I'll say. JESS: What happened? What time is it? DAVE: You want to know what time it is? I'm covered in blood, and you- JESS: It's the middle- I asked you what happened. What happened? DAVE: I don't want to talk about it. JESS: There we go. (Finding her cell phone) Jesus, it's four in the morning. DAVE: I prefer Dave, thanks. JESS: Ha. What are you doing here? DAVE: I need to clean up. I lost my key. JESS: They can give you a new key. DAVE: Yeah, I need an ID, and I need to look like less of a bum- JESS: Where's your ID? DAVE: In my wallet. JESS: Where's your wallet? DAVE: It was stolen. Listen, I know you're not a fan. I'm not staying. I'm cleaning up, and I'm gone. JESS: Dave- DAVE: I didn't mean to make a pass at you. Alright? I didn't mean to. I'm sorry. I don't know what my body was doing, but my mind was not- I didn't mean to. Okay? Apology accepted? Can we go on now like normal human beings? ... You know, you have some fucking nerve. I'm grieving here. I needed comfort. I crossed the line, but that's natural. Any guy in my situation would do that. You're gorgeous, and you're holding me, and you're right there, you know? You were right there. Who wouldn't be compelled- You should take it as a compliment. I'm not saying- I know it's sick, I get it. You told me, and I agree… I still think you should be a little flattered. Not that a guy like me would want you, just that you're a beautiful person. I mean, all of you. Don't go on some feminist rant now. Okay? Jesus, say something. JESS: I prefer Jess. I'm grieving too. That's why- Clean up. I'll set up the couch for you. Jess goes into the other room. FADE TO BLACK.

SCENE 15: INT. PRACTICE GYM - EARLY EVENING Cashew lets Apple into the dumpy gym. All her TEAMMATES are present. CASHEW: We know what's going on here. ANGELINA: We know we aren't part of a secret society. COURTNEY: You're just making a gymnastics team. They start to close in on Apple. EMMA: We're alpha females at Greene; who did you think you were pulling a fast one on? BECKY: And all this to get your boyfriend back. APPLE: How did you know that part? CASHEW: It's not going to cut it. COURTNEY: I've missed 7.59 hours of studying for this. EMMA: I got an A MINUS on a term paper. APPLE: Okay, okay, stop. You're right! But we are a secret society, in that nobody at Greene knows anything about this team. ANGELINA: Nobody at Greene knows about any athletic team. APPLE: Fine. I get it. You're all angry because I made you feel important, and then you found out you weren't. Evil looks… APPLE: I mean that you aren't important enough to be in a real secret society. Even worse. APPLE: (Epic speech) But you are important. You're important enough to start the first women's gymnastics team at Greene University. (Not enough) We all came to Greene to do something great. Right? Angelina wants to be a professor like her father. Cashew is going to run for President. Emma plans on going to medical school. Courtney will start her own rhythmic gymnastics club. I'm going to marry the finest rugby player Greene's ever seen. And Becky -- well Becky just wants to grow three inches so she actually looks her age. And her advances in genetic research might just work. I know all of this because I did my research. I chose you. I chose you because you are at Greene, and are completely under appreciated, lost in a sea of excellence with students that are just as good and just as smart as you. But you know where that stops. She points at the gym floor. APPLE: Right here. Because no other student at Greene can become a gymnast. Trust me, I looked. This is where you make your mark. This is where you stand out. Some will tell their children that they went to Greene. YOU will tell your children that you were on the first Greene gymnastics team! Becky claps. Cashew slaps her hands down. CASHEW: That was unnecessary. Apple deflates. CASHEW: You didn't have go all "sea of excellence" on us, we want to be part of this team, Apple. APPLE: Oh thank goodness. CASHEW: But if we're going to do this. We want to be good. APPLE: Good? They close in. ANGELINA: Great! BECKY: Gabby Douglas great. EMMA: Otherwise, we're out of here. Bye-bye rugby team, bye-bye Todd. APPLE: Have you seen us? We're terrible. She looks at the team of misfits she created. They wait. CASHEW: What'll it be?

SCENE 15 INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT JENN sits glued to a laptop, typing a mile a minute; DIANA is on the couch watching TV. JENN: It’s really easy to sign up, you know. DIANA: I am not doing it. Let it go. JENN: Come on. DIANA: No. JENN: It’d be good for you. DIANA: Good for me? Are you kidding? JENN: It wouldn’t hurt you to get out once in a while. DIANA: It wouldn’t help me either. Jenn rolls her eyes. DIANA: I just don’t get it. Why is it so important for me to be dating? Why? Like somehow, my life is missing something if there’s not a guy in it. I’ve got a job. I’ve got friends. I’ve got a life. And everyone’s screeching at me that I don’t have a man. I apparently haven’t succeeded at anything because I don’t have a relationship. Do you realize how insane that is? Do you? I’m supposed to find Prince Charming, but what if I don’t want him when he gets here? Snow White waited for her prince to come, and the guy kissed her corpse. Is that really what you want? And now it’s not even that magical true love from the stories, it’s a fucking algorithm. This is not chemistry, this is not love, this is simple mathematics! You want to tell me that my life is missing something? Maybe yours is missing something. While you’re wasting all of this time trying to find someone, and then keeping him happy once you do, I’m actually living, doing things. I don’t want to stare into someone’s eyes - there’s too much of the rest of the world I’d miss. Diana stops, takes a breath. Jenn is staring at her, mouth gaping. JENN: Suit yourself. Jenn turns back to the computer. JENN: Hey, someone messaged me.

Scene 1 INT. HOUSE—LIVING ROOM – DAY Two middle-aged men enter solemnly. The stouter one, ROBERT, sits down on the couch. TOMMY paces around the living room. Robert begins to speak but Tommy interrupts him. TOMMY: I don't know what to to do with you, man. I told you to listen to me, didn't I? Isn't that what I said? (lights a cigarette). Man, I tell ya, I do what you want and I get shafted. Again. I gave you what you wanted, right? I did, right? I did. And what did you do? You fucked me. Ya fucked me like you paid me, Robert. It ain't right. (puff) You know, who-who-who's to say, you know, how these things will turn out? Huh? But you ain't been right once, Robert! Not once! Not once have you made a winning bet. And you convince me, you argue with me--'please, please, Tommy. Listen to me. I know what I'm talking about here'. (points at Robert) Horsecock! (puffs, shakes his head) I don't know what I'm gonna do with you. I lost at least a thou out there, Bobby. I can't lose that type of money. Tell you what. Next time we bet the horses, (pause) we get Betty in on this, huh? Robert begins to object but Tommy stops him. TOMMMY: Listen for a second, alright? This isn't about your family drama. You owe me money! You hear me? You owe me a lot of money, pal and I know you ain't got it. Not going through a divorce. Your mother don't speak to ya. Ya father acts like you don't exist. Your sister's all you got and she's all we got. So you need to step it up, suck it up, and ask for help on this one or I swear I'm going full berserk on your ass, so help me god. Robert stands up, running a hand through his hair. ROBERT: I ain't spoke to her in months, Tommy. What do I even say to her? TOMMY: You ain't asking her for money here. You're just asking for...consultation. That's it. Pause. Tommy takes another puff of his cigarette, thinking about something. Robert is looking off at a spot in the floor. Tommy looks like he's made a decision and is moving towards the door. TOMMY: Alright you stand there staring at the floor while I go and figure out how to clean the mess you caused me. Robert looks up. ROBERT: Where you goin? Tommy is just going out the door before he stops to respond. TOMMY: I got a secret weapon. Don't worry bout it. You just call your goddamn sister.

INT. ROOM - DAY LAWRENCE (late 20S) paces frenzied on the carpet, head swivels from side to side "no, no, no" while MARY (mid 20S) watches, arms down, hands clasped. LAWRENCE I can't. I can't accept it. MARY You have to accept. There's nothing you or I can do. LAWRENCE But our son's ill, he may die. MARY It's out of our hands, Sam's being treated. All we can do is pray. LAWRENCE How can you say that? How can you tell me that all we can do is pray? Pray? What for? No one is listening. Nobody. Nothing. His words reverberate for a couple of seconds, then--deep silence. Lawrence is red in the face, but his eyes show a moist glint of unformed tears. Mary keeps her smooth composure. MARY I can tell you why, I can tell you what for, I can tell you when. Just focus and listen to me. And you'll understand. When you were deployed in Afghanistan, those were dark days, they were hard days. I had to keep up and smile, when I knew and feared what could happen any day, at any moment... So I prayed. I prayed for you. I prayed that you'd be safe, I prayed that you'd be back. That you'd return to me and to our unborn son. I prayed every single day. And you came back. Uninjured, in body and mind. You came back whole. You were the same, and you still loved me. So, my darling, my love, don't tell me that praying doesn't work. I know it works. It works for me. Lawrence hangs his head for a moment, then darts forward and engulfs Mary in a tight hug, buries his face in her shoulder. She hugs him back. They stay like that for a long beat, until Lawrence rises his head and looks Mary in the eyes. He forces a smile, his eyes are wet. LAWRENCE You go on praying, honey. Go on praying. They stand together in each others arms.

SCENE 15 INT: JUSTIN'S BEDROOM-EVENING FADE IN: Justin's lying on the bed on his cell arguing with his girlfriend Meredith. Justin: This argument is beyond tiresome Meredith. We always do what you want. Never once in the 7 months we've dated have you put me and what I want first! Meredith: Oh please! You love to make me out to be a selfish bitch. Justin: On the contrary. I get sick of it! You should be sick of it as well. Have you ever once considered that your attitude is the reason none of your previous relationships made it to the year mark? All you ever do is nitpick and nag. If we aren't arguing over how to spend our vacation, we're arguing over your adopting a cat. I tell you, I'm exhausted. Completely and utterly spent with this relationship. Look you're a great lady, smart, pretty, but you have some issues you need to work out, and you need to do this minus me. Our differences are vast and both of us deserve to be with people who make us want to be our best selves. We had a good seven months. Not bad for two people who met through social media, but we need to cut our losses and move on. No hard feelings here, but I need easy in my life. This relationship is far from easy. Meredith I know you agree. You have to. Meredith: Okay I admit that our relationship has had its share of challenges, but you can't possibly believe we are beyond working things out. Challenges are normal for any couple. Justin:I'm just being honest with myself. You need to do the same.

Busy week. Playing catch up. Scene 15 EXT. NEW YORK CITY - COURTHOUSE - DAY WILLIAM STANTON (56) is stone-faced as he descends the courthouse steps. REDMOND (45) is walking alongside him, briefcase in one hand, while the other pats William's shoulder reassuringly. REDMOND: Don't worry, Will. We still have the appeal and I think we've got a good chance. Redmond hails a cab as they reach street-level. REDMOND: This is just a speed-bump. Trust me. I'll get my team on the appeal right away. A cab stops in front of them. Redmond opens the door to let William in and follows after. INT. CAB CABBIE: Where to? REDMOND: 52nd. (to William) It's going to be OK. Let's just go back to the office and talk about our strategy. WILLIAM: No. (to Cabbie) Take us to a bar. I need a drink. REDMOND: You sure? It's a weekday. CABBIE: Hey, leave the man alone. He needs a drink, he should drink. There's too much shame in this society. I say if you feel you need something, go for it. Don't worry what other people think, just let the chips fall where they may. Redmond glances at his client. William puts his hand to his forehead. CABBIE: Everybody nowadays is worried how they look. How they come off. They're so damned concerned they forget to live! I mean, who is anyone to judge anyone? Everyone's got their demons, their mistakes. The only sin I know of is living with regret. I say be decisive. (honks, to a car ahead) Pick a lane! (to his fare) You see that? They don't know what they want. This way, that way. What should I do? Where will I end up? Uncertainty. I can't stand uncertainty on the road. You get behind the wheel, you should know where you're going. Even if you don't, pretend like you do. Just pick a path. You might wind up in Yonkers, but would that be such a tragedy? You don't like it there, just pick a new path. It ain't the end of the world. Nothing's the end of the world until it is. You know what I'm saying, buddy? WILLIAM: Can you let us out here? CABBIE: Huh? You said you wanted-- WILLIAM: Please stop! The Cabbie stops abruptly and William jumps out. The Cabbie turns to Redmond. CABBIE: Something I said? REDMOND: Rough day. Redmond pays the Cabbie and gets out.

Scene 14 A monologue INT. ROOM- NIGHT It's dark. The only light comes from a street light slicing through the blinds. COLLINS, 50's, sits in a chair in the middle of the floor. There is an air of calm violence about him. This man has seen death up close. His legs are crossed. His arms rest across his lap. A gun hangs loosely in his hands. His eyes focused solely on the door. Outside the door SHUFFLING SOUNDS can be heard. LIGHT FOOT STEPS. The door knob shakes slightly as if someone is testing it. Tiny METAL scrapes inside the lock. The door knob turns..... COLLINS: It’d be a mistake to come through that door. You leave now and I wouldn't kill you. Sure, you may think you have the element of surprise on your side, but you’d be wrong. I knew you were coming before you did. Do you even know who you've been sent to handle? Did they even tell you? I'm the guy that makes other people's nightmares come true. I'm the guy that they send to make people disappear. I promise you this will not be easy. This will hurt worst then any pain you can imagine. I'll send you to hell first and then drag you back after I have drinks with the devil ‘cause I've been there before. You think you are the first to come for me? Huh? You young bucks think you know everything. Ha! I can't even wipe my ass with what you know. I wrote the motherfucking book you stand on to look me in the eye! So you think real hard about what you want in life because if you walk through that door it'll end quickly. You think real hard. Do you want this to be the last thing you ever do? Do you want this to be your last day on earth? ’Cause I can promise you...if you come for me...it will be. Collins waits. His keen eyes stay focused on the door. His grip tightens on the gun handle. The door knob twists back to position. Soft footsteps recede to silence.

SCENE 15: INT. Main Conference Room – Day: The huge room is dark with a wall of window shades all drawn tightly closed. Around a conference table, seven programmers are ear plugged into their music as they focus intently on their laptop screens. The only light in the room comes from each laptop screen to reveal each programmer. Warren strides in with Ellen tagging along. He immediately yanks open the shades and suddenly the room is filled with daylight. All the programmers flinch, squint, and moan at the bright interruption. They adjust to the light, pull out their ear buds, and listen intently for Warren to speak, knowing that at the end of his talk someone’s head is going to roll. As he speaks each one glances at the other. Especially as he names people, they fear for their livelihoods. WARREN: Ladies and gentlemen, congratulations. It seems you have solved our problem after 36 hours of binge coding. Momentarily I have called in a caterer to feed you. Now, Ellen briefed me on what you found and I am at a total loss as to what exactly happened. However, I’m going to rundown her results so you can each verify that this is correct. First of all, Deepak architected the structure to include the server banks. Next Tom configured the software. Marlin configured the services. The core developers programmed the communication links between each app. But this required Marlin to reconfigure the apps which in turn required Tom to reconfigure the software. Then Deepak re-architected the structure. Finally Hassan did his Q.A. on the entire process. Minor bugs were corrected and we went live. Now, this past week everything crashed. Ellen had you repeat this entire process and I understand everything came back together without a problem. How is this possible? How is it that you repeat the same process twice and the second time around everything works OK? Something is missing here folks. Somewhere along the line someone did something different that they didn’t do the first time around. He looks at each one. Total silence. WARREN (continued): Okay, well guess what? I did my own investigation and I think I know where the problem lies. The communications link was originally programmed two ways. The first way didn’t work so someone came up with the second way. Now the problem is that both ways exist in the code. Except the only way it works is the second way. Not the first. So who is it that decided to switch back to the first way? This had to happen sometime between the Q.A. approval and going live. No one was to touch the code at that point. Someone did. So fess up. He nods to Ellen. She projects the process graph up on the big screen for all to see. She scrolls down the process to the point after the final Q.A. approval, where Warren has logged in that he switched the process to the first process. Warren is shocked. WARREN: Shit! He hurries out of the room. Everyone looks around for a moment to make sure he’s gone and then can’t hold back their laughter. The caterer shows up and the party begins.

I think this is the toughest one yet. How do you not go all cliche on this one? eesh. :) Good challenge.

@heathenistic scene 15. INT. FAMILY HOME - KITCHEN - DAY Jack, mid-thirties, a failure, stares into the fridge. Pickin's are slim. He downs the last of the milk, right from the jug, puts the empty back in the fridge, slams the door. WAYNE shuffles in, shirtless. He's in his early sixties, hard. Looks like he spent a life on the high-seas, or prison. Or both. WAYNE: Any crackers? Jack skims a newspaper just for something to look at other than Wayne. JACK: Look yourself. WAYNE: So helpful. JACK: Wait-staff ain't on shift yet. Wayne finds a box of saltines in a cupboard, dumps a whole package of them onto a plate. WAYNE: smartass. You been loafin' round here too long. Why'on't you let your mother have a life? JACK: Not until she can live it without you Wayne. Wayne goes into the fridge, takes out the block of cheddar cheese, puts the whole block on the plate with the crackers. Eyes Jack. Laughs to himself. WAYNE: Get a job yet? Jack huffs, puts down the paper, finally stares Wayne in the eye. JACK: Don't eat all the cheese. Jack goes to leave, but Wayne suddenly HURLS the plate against the wall next to Jack's head. SMASH. crackers and plate fly everywhere. Jack whip-turns back. WAYNE: Don't eat all the cheese? Wayne is suddenly on Jack, throating him against the wall. Face right in his. WAYNE (cont'd): Really? Don't eat all the cheese? Wayne presses Jack into the wall even harder, he's scarily strong for a man his age, and he's got Jack overpowered already. Spit flies in Jack's face as Wayne spews fury. WAYNE (cont'd): You know, there was a time I'da killed a man for saying less than that to me. (wayne cools himself a bit.) Don't eat all the cheese. Shee-ittt. Wayne loosens his grip, shoves Jack hard away from him - toward a kitchen chair. Jack shocked, winded, takes the seat. WAYNE (cont'd): Was a time respect was more than a thin mask in front of contempt. That's what this really is innit? Contempt. Hate. You hate me. Jack stares - he's not seen this behavior from Wayne before. WAYNE (cont'd): You hate me SO MUCH you can't even stand the thought of me. Wayne gets close in again. WAYNE (cont'd): Sure can't stand the thought o' what me and your mother might be getting up to nights I bet. Eats you up inside dudnit? That visual -- your own mother. Running her lips up and down my-- Jack shoves Wayne on that one, not hard enough though. Wayne shoves back, harder. Jack and his chair topple to the ground, Wayne holds Jack down on the ground with a strong foot on his chest. WAYNE (cont'd): Yeah, you're mother's still wild, and don't you forget it. Betcha she and your father had a nasty ol' time when they made you. Now just imagine all the tricks she's learned over the last thirty-five years. Wayne swings his hips in disgusting suggestive circles. WAYNE (cont'd): And know that I'm the one she's showin' em to. Yeah. Me. So what now? You want to get up and hit me? He steps off Jack's chest. Jack starts to get to his feet. Leans on the counter. He's fuming. Wants to lash out but won't. WAYNE (cont'd): You know what your mother would do if she thought you hit me? Here's what you don't get. Your mother wants me. Aches for me. I give her what she ain't been given in a long time. Wayne spots the block of cheese on the floor. picks it up. Right in Jack's face he sticks out his pointy tongue, slowly licks the entire length of the block, then takes a big bite. He's nose-to-nose with Jack. Mouth full of cheese. Laughs. WAYNE (cont'd): Don't eat all the cheese. Tell ya what. I'mma eat ALL the cheese. Then Imma eat all the cheese-whiz. And the cheese-balls. and the cheese-cake. Your momma's got the sweetest cheesecake goin'. Wayne slams the rest of the cheese block onto the counter. Spinning around, almost dancing and mocking Jack. He pretends to be walking in high-heels holding a purse. WAYNE (cont'd): Then you know what's gonna happen? Your momma's gonna get dressed, go buy me some more cheese. And when she comes back I'm gonna eat all that too. Wayne leans back in to Jack's face. Jack is at once terrified and raging. Seething, but frozen. WAYNE (cont'd): But you know what else? Lemme tell ya secret, Jack. While she's out I'mma go next door and eat Maury's wife's cheesecake. Again. Mmmm mmm that's some sweet cheesecake over there. Jack can't take that one - shoves Wayne back as he jumps to his feet. Wayne staggers for a moment, catches his balance and lunges. Grab's Jack by the throat with a hard fist, squeezes hard. The other fist, cocked, knuckles big and bony, shaking with rage in Jack's face. Holds it for emphasis that says "I could kill you right now" until Jack gets the point. Wayne shoves Jack toward the door, releasing him. WAYNE (cont'd): Now get outta my sight. Your mother's home soon and she don't want to hear we ain't gettin' along now. wouldn't be so good. for you. Jack kicks open the screen door and storms out. Wayne follows him out, stands on the porch. Calls after him. Much of the hate suddenly gone from his sweet old man voice. WAYNE (cont'd): Oh sonny? Jack turns to look back at him. WAYNE (Cont'd): Since you're goin' out, pick up some more cheese willya? Wayne looks over at the neighbor's house, Maury's wife sits on their front porch sipping lemonade. WAYNE (cont'd): I think I'm gonna be real hungry.

INT. APARTMENT – DAY MATT, 26, is sitting in his pajamas. He is drinking a coffee and holding his cell phone. He listens to a voicemail from his father, JIM, 50, on speakerphone. ZOOM IN – On phone screen. The screen reads, “Voicemail From - Dad.” JIM (V.O.): Hey. It’s 1:00 over here. I need you to call me.” ZOOM OUT – To Matt sitting on couch. Matt dials his Dad’s number and waits as the phone rings. INTERCUT BETWEEN – Matt and Jim, sitting in his home office. BARKING can be heard offscreen. JIM: Hello? MATT: Hey. JIM: Hey, hold on one second, these dogs won’t stop. Mickey! Stop it! Bad! Sorry, they’ve just been awful all day. MATT: Yeah? JIM: Mickey blocked off a UPS guy from even coming into the yard to deliver a package. I couldn’t catch him. He is just the worst-behaved dog in the world. MATT: He’s good at his core. Just some bad habits, and a weight problem. JIM: The vet has him on this diet. He hates it. But, he looks like a fat white pig, so it must be done. MATT: Ha. JIM: Anyway. The reason I called is…well, you’re not going to like it. I called again today, and it’s 1:00 over here – MATT: Yeah, I was up, I was just in an office already— JIM: Stop. Just stop. I can tell from your voice that you haven’t even talked to another human today. You know you just woke up. And you know you do this more often than you should. It’s been 3 years, buddy. 3 years. You haven’t made a single sale. I told you five months ago that you had to get something going, and you haven’t. And honestly, I can’t keep explaining myself to the partners anymore, keeping you on like this. Now, I know you have dreams, and I’m all for supporting them. I’ve always been your biggest supporter, even when Mom has said some things. I also know you’re going through some stuff, and that it’s difficult for you to get out there and really put your ass on the line. But buddy, I can’t let you do this anymore. For me, and for you, you have to find another job. Eventually, we all have to put our ass on the line. You’re a man. You’re 27-- almost 28 for Christ’s sake. You have to learn to do this by yourself. And if you have to move home for a little while, that’s okay, there’s no shame in that. You can always come home. But I can’t let you go on like this. I can’t let you become my sister, leeching off of Mom & I into your 50s. Are you okay? You haven’t said a word. MATT: Yeah. Yeah. I’m just—I just need a second. Can I call you right back? JIM: Yes. Don’t keep me waiting, I’ll be worried. MATT: Yeah. I’ll call you back. Matt hangs up the phone.

INT. OLD-FASHIONED OPERATING THEATRE - DAY DR. FILLIBUT, a middle-aged gentlemen with a luxurious beard, a bloodied apron and a top hat, is at his place work. In one hand a LARGE KNIFE, the other a STEEL. He sharpens the knife methodically, and slightly maniacally, like a butcher about to carve a fat pig. In front of him a drape covers a large, malformed shape on the operating room table... Fillibut addresses his audience... DR. FILLIBUT: Now, gentlemen, gentlemen, welcome to the first day of your, no doubt distinguished, medical careers. You are the best, the brightest, the most bewhiskered that our fair city has to offer. I am Dr. Periwinkle Fillibut, I will be your tutor for this year and today I will show you the modern miracle that is 19th century medicine. Fillibut starts to roam the room... DR. FILLIBUT: I have been practicing medicine and growing this beard for nigh on thirty years. In that time I have seen a man with three arms, a woman with nine ears, three Welshmen, and a baby with the head of an otter. (beat) Admittedly I saw all of those last week at Ambrosius Mallett's traveling circus but nevertheless... He arrives back at his table... DR. FILLIBUT: ...today I will show you something that will make your hair curl, your eyes tumble, and testicles drop. Gentlemen, I present to you... He pulls back the drape with a flourish.

EXT. MOUNTAIN PEAK - DAY HEATHER scales the last turn of the mountain and spies someone's already there. Sitting in a turquoise wrap is the legendary EUNUCH. Heather: I -- EUNUCH: It's okay, I know why you are here. I also wanted to be a musician, I know a lot of people look at me and think automatically it must have been the drums or base guitar (Heather shakes her head, no), it was the lure of the violin that drew me. Its dulcit tones, the mellow sweet notes, that hum as it resonates with my mind. So, with it calling me, I went into a music shop. It hung, suspended from a wall, caramel glinting. I asked the assistant to show me the model. It just felt right in my hands, like it had always meant to be there. I hugged it to my chin, cradled its neck, and then he told me how much it cost. Well, I left the shop, and right outside, a friendly group of men with shaved heads and dinky ponytails offered me a --tambourine. I haven't looked back since. HEATHER: Did you learn to play the violin? EUNUCH: No, the tambourine. As evidence, Eunuch lifts a tambourine and shakes it, difficult as it is to shake a tambourine out of rhythm, he manages it. HEATHER: And you're a eunuch. EUNUCH: See, you have nothing to lose.

Scene Fifteen.

DAY FIFTEEN: A scene that features a monologue. INT. INSTITUTION ROOM – AFTERNOON A patient, MARY, is sitting on a comfortable couch, but she looks anything but comfortable. Distracted, maybe. Unsettled, sure. Not eager to be there? Definitely. The therapist, RUTH, who sits across from her is patient with her. There is a recorder on the small side table next to Ruth’s easy chair. She is smiling at Mary tranquilly. MARY: Why are you smiling? RUTH: Well, I’m glad that you’re talking. You weren’t very verbal last time we saw each other. I was lucky to get you to say your name. Mary grunts and looks away. RUTH: So how are you doing today? Did you try the exercise that we talked about before? MARY: Oh, how am I? I’m not sure. I guess…I guess I’m just trying to figure things out. Not just what’s wrong with me. I know that I have a chemical disorder that causes me to have violent – crippling even – mood swings. I know that we can work through this. Logically, that makes sense. I’m talking about life in general. The overarching theme of living just seems so weird to me. Like, we’re here for a set amount of time, apparently according to a big man in the sky who decides what we do and who we can become and, depending on what religion or philosophy you proscribe to, what your fate will be. So, in many ways, we have very little choice in what happens to us. Which then goes against that idea of having free will, which then makes this God a liar, which doesn’t make sense because it says in the Bible that He is not a man that He should lie. So I’m not entirely sure what to believe about anything. I came here for depression and we decided that this might be bipolar whatever the fuck. I guess it makes sense because, in many ways, even when I’m not suicidal or whatever, turning into nothing or going to Heaven or Hell or reincarnating seems to be the only thing that really makes sense. At least people seem to have a better idea of what happens after we die than what we’re supposed to do while we’re here. That seems backward to me, but whatever. That’s what’s been on my mind about life and living and happiness and growth or whatever. RUTH: It seems like you’ve been thinking a lot. Have you come to any real conclusion about anything yet? MARY: Life is ass backward. That’s what I just said. It doesn’t make sense and I think I’m okay with that. I’m done for right now. I’m going to sleep. I can’t sleep at night and, no matter what I may think about being here and therapy, this seems to be the only place in this God forsaken place that I can get any real sleep. Mary lies down on the couch. She turns her back to Ruth. She curls up into the fetal position.

Scene fifteen continues from yesterday's fourteen: INT. I.C.E. OFFICE - DAY A large group of I.C.E. Agents gathered, in front of them George about to speak. GEORGE It is our job to prevent terrorism, to enhance security of the borders, to protect the homeland against illicit trade. And I want to thank you for the good job you all have done in the case of the Butcher. We initially thought we were only dealing with immigration crime and maybe human rights violations. But the Butcher may be involved in far more serious crimes. I am considering making this a multi agency investigation, getting the Feds involved. Not because I don't think you're not capable, but because this may be something we haven't dealt with. Thanks for your good work and please give me a copy of all your reports about this case. Thank you. Peter runs to the bathroom. To be continued...

INT. RABBI PONOVSKY'S DEN - NIGHT The walls are covered with books. One sits on the desk in front of Ponovsky. His lips move as he reads. Barry appears in the open door and waits for his father to acknowledge him. Ponovsky places the ribbon sewed into the binding of his book on the page he's reading and gently closes the cover. He motions for Barry to sit opposite him. Barry dutifully obeys. PONOVSKY: I understand you no longer cover your head out of respect for God, but you can at least cover it out of respect for your own father. Me, you still believe in, nu? He hands his son a yarmulke and Barry puts it on. BARRY: Did you ask me to come this late so the family wouldn't see me? PONOVSKY: Of course not, Baruch. I wanted to be able to talk to you without being interrupted. You can stay the night if you want and see the others in the morning. BARRY: You'd like it if I didn't go home. You'd like it if I didn't sleep in my own bed. In Larry's bed. In my husband's bed. Ponovsky glances at Larry's wedding ring. PONOVSKY: A ring doesn't make a marriage. BARRY: A marriage license does. PONOVSKY: Not for a Jew. For a Jew, a kesubah does. BARRY: Or a gift, like a ring, or making love. I learned that mishnah. PONOVSKY: But you know the halachah. And your marriage is not a marriage. BARRY: I love Larry as much as you love Mommy. Is it fair that you should be happy and I should be miserable? PONOVSKY: No, it's not fair. Why do I only merit the misery of a son like you? Where did you get the merit that you should be blessed with the greatest misery of all? You've fallen into the trap of believing what the goyim believe -- that true love means wanting someone to be happy. No. It's a greater love to lead someone to greatness. But it takes so much pain to be great. When you were a baby, you cried when we put you to bed, but if we soothed you, you wouldn't have learned to fall asleep by yourself. You cried when I didn't give you the toy you wanted, but if I gave it to you, you wouldn't have walked to take it from me. By school, you learned to suffer without crying, but to learn, you needed to suffer from the difficult studying. All growth comes from suffering. Happiness is a curse. You're happy, you don't work, you don't pray, you relax and you achieve nothing. God wants one thing from us -- to show Him how much we love Him. How do we show it? By how much pain we're willing to endure because of that love. God gives you the most powerful urge in the world and tells you that He forbids you to give in to it. Why? Because He knows that, deep in your heart, you love Him enough to go through that pain for Him. So, like He tested Avraham Avinu, He tests you, so you too can prove your love. Such a blessing. BARRY: No. Larry's love is a blessing. God's love is a curse.