INT. HAIR SALON - DAY SHERRI (40's), a perky hairstylist, and her client BRENDA (30's) look in the mirror sizing up their plan for Brenda's hair cut. BRENDA: So, I need it short, but not like last time. Last time you went WAY too short and I looked like Rosie O'Donnell when she had that bad Salt 'n Peppa dyke-cut with the sides shaved and the bangs just floppin' around ... The phone RINGS. Sherri continues to nod as if she remembers. She swings the chair around, grabs the phone. SHERRI: Girls and Curls, this's Sherri. BRENDA: Maybe we can take it up to... like here -- SHERRI: (on the phone) Hey. BRENDA: But not like that damn bob all the politicians wives like to get that makes them look like a bunch of -- SHERRI: (on the phone) Okay. BRENDA: --cking all the time when their husbands are playing around with -- Sherri begins to comb and cut, but her attention in on the phone while Brenda continues to spew nonsense. SHERRI: (Phone) I... Okay. Okay. What should I... Okay. About thirty minutes. I'm with... Okay. I will. She hangs the phone up and continues to cut in a daze. BRENDA: What are you doing? Too short! Sherri stops and looks. SHERRI: I've barely done anything yet, Brenda. She holds up a mirror. Brenda checks all sides. She shoves the mirror back. Sherri goes back to work. Her eyes swelling up. BRENDA: Just felt like last time. You know how many times I had to tell the women at my gym I was married. SHERRI: You're not married, Brenda. BRENDA: What else was I going to tell them? They were on me like... You know how hard it is when more women hit on you than men? Sherri shakes her head. Words aren't coming easy. BRENDA: Of course not, look at your perfect hair. Just do mine like Taylor Swift's, kind of cute, but like sexy-cute. Who cuts your hair? SHERRI: Sarah. Sherri's hands are shaking. SHERRI (CONT.): Brenda, you think we can do this tomorrow? I just got a call from my -- BRENDA: I HAVE A DATE IN AN HOUR! NO WAY! Sherri grits her teeth and snips faster. SHERRI: What's her name? HIS NAME. Sorry. BRENDA: Not funny. How long have I been coming in here? Like three years. And, every time you seem to screw it up. Sherri snips and tugs Brenda's hair hard with the comb. BRENDA: Ow! What's wrong with you? SHERRI: My bad. I caught a knot. BRENDA: Maybe we SHOULD reschedule. Maybe I should reschedule with Farah. SHERRI: Sarah. Sherri snips more hair. Clumps of three inch strands fall to the floor, one after the other. SHERRI: Don't worry. I got you covered. When I'm done you'll look just like me... BRENDA: It feels very short. Brenda looks at all the hair on the ground. BRENDA: What have you done! Sherri hands her the mirror, again, and stands back from harms way. BRENDA: You cut it off? You... SHERRI: You look just like me... after my chemo, bitch. Sherri sets her scissors and brush down. With shaking hands, she grabs a business card and tosses it on Brenda's lap. SHERRI: This is Sarah's card. Call her when your hair grows back. You might recognize her because she's the one who cut your hair last time. Brenda stares at herself aghast. Sherri takes her purse and walks toward the door. She pauses, then turns. SHERRI: Oh yeah, have a nice date tonight.

Scene 13 INT. DEPARTMENT STORE OFFICE - NOON Mrs. Ballantine (65), is standing in front of the complains desk of a large department store with a hand mixer in her hand. She is quite intimidating for her small stature and apparent frailty. On the other side of the desk, Thomas (27) is silently speaking on his cellphone. THOMAS: ... yes, sis... of course. Look, I... I will send some money but now I need to get back to work... Ok, bye. Thomas puts away his phone over the looks of disapproval if the old woman. MRS. BALLANTINE: Finally! I don't have all day you know. THOMAS: I... I'm so sorry Mrs. Ballantine. How can I help you? MRS. BALLANTINE: You can start by telling me what kind of junk you are peddling now as household appliances. This mixer which I bought not two days ago is a complete piece of useless rubbish. First of all, getting it out... TOMMY: Hi Thomas. Thomas is startled by the voice he just heard. Standing behind Mrs. Ballantine is a carbon copy of himself, but dressed in a hospital gown. He looks casual and confident, even in those clothes. THOMAS: How is this...? MRS. BALLANTINE: That's what I am trying to tell you. I had to cut it open. At my age... TOMMY: Use your inner voice, Thomas. THOMAS (V.O.): What are you doing here? TOMMY: After all these years that's the greeting I get? THOMAS (V.O.): But I sent you away. I've been taking my... TOMMY: Medication? Well, sure. That thing keeps me in a very dark corner of your subconscious... but I would never leave you. You know that. MRS. BALLANTINE: Are you listening to me? THOMAS: Yes, yes... Of course. MRS. BALLANTINE: Well, now I've got fairy cake mix all over my kitchen and my clothes, and I expect... TOMMY: How can you stand this woman? Or this job? The doctor told you to stay clear of stressful situations... THOMAS (V.O.): What are you doing here? TOMMY: Well, I'll tell you. I just heard over the phone the most distressing piece of news. THOMAS (V.O.): How could you...? You mean what happened at home? The flooding of the garden? How is that distressing... TOMMY: What did dear ol' sis say? Her exact words, please. You know, that the builders... THOMAS (V.O.): That they would probably need to dig up the entire garden. TOMMY: And that would be a problem because... Thomas thinks for a bit. He suddenly goes completely pale. THOMAS: Oh, my God! MRS. BALLANTINE: I know! It was my best Sunday dress too. And this infernal machine of yours... THOMAS (V.O.): They are going... to find... TOMMY: They are going to find the body. You know, the proof? The smoking gun? The only thing that kept you in a psychiatric hospital instead of getting the needle? If they find that little secret of ours... well, let's just say that your life is going to get a little bit more complicated. THOMAS (V.O.): I cannot go through that again! What can I do? There's gotta be a way... TOMMY: (exited) There is a way. You can let me take control. THOMAS (V.O.): No... NO! The last time I let you in... TOMMY: Things got a bit out of hand, yes. But this time is different. We are not talking about fun. We are dealing with our survival here. I can solve this. But I need you... to give me... control. Mrs. Ballantine continues ranting about the broken appliance. Thomas seems lost in her words with a blank expression on his face. Suddenly, something clicks in Thomas's head. THOMAS: Mrs. Ballantine. I am sorry to interrupt you but, you know what? You are absolutely right. This is a piece of crap. I will make sure this appliance is removed from the shelves and that you get a complete reimbursement, including for your best Sunday dress. Don't you worry 'bout a thing. MRS. BALLANTINE: (Surprised) Oh! Thank you, Thomas. I gotta say, you've changed. I did not expect this answer from you. THOMAS: It's Tommy dear. And yes, there's going to be a lot of changes around here. Tommy smiles.

Feedback 14 Jonathan Very nice! This fit perfectly the description of the challenge: the rants and stubbornness of Brenda, the reaction of Sherri to the call, the final insult. You could picture the scene perfectly. Proper writing. My only comment would be to maybe immerse Brenda in a glossy magazine. She can get ammunition for her rants and also distract her from looking at the mirrors while Sherri cuts off her hair. In any case, this scene is really good. Very well done.

FEEDBACK 9 I would have liked to see a greater reaction from Sherri at the disturbing news, one that Brenda should have noticed if she wasn't so self-absorved. Other than that, I think you nailed it. Or made the cut.

FEEDBACK 10 Just one very minor quibble: there are 8 lines between Tommy and Thomas without Mrs Ballantine, which I feel is too many. 4-1-4 would be better. Other than that, I think it really is a great take on the challenge. Great.

SCENE 2 INT. BAR--NIGHT STAN (37), overweight and balding, wipes down the bar as JEMMA (23), typical rich girl, takes a seat. JEMMA: Bartender! I need a pina colada! Stan's annoyed but covers it with a broad smile as he pours her drink. STAN: You're new here. Welcome. I'm Stan--what brings you here tonight? JEMMA: I'm meeting my fiance's parents for dinner. They picked the restaurant--I'd never be in this dive otherwise. Stan's phone buzzes--a text from his wife, BELLA. 'I'm leaving you. Divorce papers on the kitchen table. Have a nice life.' Stan gulps, eyes misting up as Jemma prattles on, unaware. JEMMA: I mean, I'm sure they're nice and all, but I don't know how they produced someone like Greg. He's going places, he's got class. She breaks off, frowns at Stan. JEMMA: Don't you have my drink ready yet? STAN: Coming right up. Pina colada, right? JEMMA: Not too strong. I can't meet Greg's parents with booze breath. Stan grabs her drink, turns around to keep her from seeing what he's doing. STAN: My apologies, ma'am. One virgin pina colada, coming right up. He mixes the drink and grabs a bottle of vodka, putting in a generous amount. JEMMA: Thank God his parents live in Colorado, so we won't have to see them much. Greg got a job offer in Denver and wanted to go there, but I insisted that he take the New York gig instead. Can you imagine, living in the boonies like that? STAN: I've heard Denver's nice. JEMMA: If you're some kind of hick, maybe, but not if you want to be anyone. Stan grabs a bottle of bourbon, adds a shot of that to the drink as well. JEMMA: What's taking so long with my drink? STAN: I'm sorry about the wait--I was getting the top shelf stuff, since you seem like the kind of girl who can appreciate quality. Jemma beams. JEMMA: Well, isn't that sweet now? You're not so bad, for a bartender. Stan adds another shot to the drink, then brings it to Jemma, 'accidentally' tripping on his way and splashing it all over her dress. JEMMA: Oh my God! What did you just do? This is a five hundred dollar dress! I'm going to get you fired, you cretin! Stan clears his throat, and Jemma whirls around to see her fiance GREG and his PARENTS staring at her. STAN: (to Greg) You poor bastard. I'm glad she's not my wife. STAN:

oogh.

We all have a little Tommy buried in our cerebellum. Anything could happen, here. But I want to see what led up to this, Thomas taking control from Tommy, and where we go from here. You've got me hooked! Yeah, a little more Mrs. Ballentine, as Roy says, to keep the timelines in synch. Then tighten it a bit and it's good to go. Love i.

Scene 12. This is addictive. INT. MAYA FACTORY SALES SHOWROOM – DAY, 1933 Four exotic Mayas fill the tiny showroom. Alone, George Boynton, Maya's new sales manager, dusts the cars lovingly in a white lab smock. Courtney Reynaldo, CFO, enters, goes directly to a glass-walled sales cubicle. Boynton follows. Boynton: What is it, Court? You don't look too happy. Reynaldo: I'll not dance around the issue. The factory is closing. Boynton: Closing? We were in the black last quarter. This is our best quarter ever. Reynaldo: We're moving production to Italy. Lower labor costs. End of story. Boynton: But transportation costs will eat up any profits-- Reynaldo: Profits aren't the issue. Italian labor will knock $1000 off list. That will get our dealer prices on a par with Packard and Caddy, and increase dealer margin. Boynton: What will this do to our profits? Reynaldo: You mean, what will this do to your profit sharing? Boynton: Well, yes. Reynaldo: There won't be any. Boynton: But we're making money! Tons of it. Reynaldo: For two quarters. A blip. Boynton: I see. And my job? Reynaldo: Do I need to tell you? Boynton: No. I guess you don't, Mr. Reynaldo. Reynaldo: We'll be staffing the sales manager position from Italy. Boynton: I just bought a home. Reynaldo: Stay here and cover the floor. I'll go see if the VP will pay your closing costs. As soon as I find out, you can go home. We'll deliver your stuff later today. Reynaldo turns and walks out. Boynton: Jesus. How can they do this? Stumbling, he dusts the other cars, wiping his eyes with a clean corner of the rag. A well-dressed CUSTOMER enters carrying a clipboard, looks around. Customer: Hey, you. I don't suppose you have a sales rep in, yet? Boynton: (a deep breath) I'll see if I can find him, Sir. Wait just a moment. Customer: Hurry it up, will ya? Boynton clenches his teeth. He goes into the cubicle, doffs the smock, dons his suit coat, then returns, hands shaking, but forcing a smile. Boynton: How may I help you? Customer: I'm with Delphic Motor Sales, Vicksburg. We need your best price and delivery on one of each of your four standard models. Pronto. Boynton: With 20% distributor discount, that would total just under $15,000. [beat] $14,947, FOB factory. Allow four weeks for delivery. Customer: You'll have to do a lot better than that. We need stock this week. And Packard always gives us 25% off. Boynton: (a small smile) You know what? You caught me at an especially good time. What about 26% discount? Customer: Really? I mean, is that the best you can do? Boynton: Well, we just laid off our sales manager. You can have his commish, for another one percent off. He won't miss it. Customer: Great. But what about delivery? And please don't tell me three weeks. Boynton: (points) These four, right off the floor, FOB Vicksburg. Zero odometer miles, two day delivery. The CFO will have a conniption fit, but he'll get over it. Customer: I like the way you think. Boynton: I'll write it up. Give me five minutes. Customer: Is there any possibility you'd like to...ah...nah, probably not. Boynton: Talk to me. Customer: I don't suppose you'd consider moving to Vicksburg...?

Jeff, I liked the nostalgia of the sales room. Good scene too, the payback was nice and sweet. Only spot to maybe tighten up was Reynaldo's departure. Seemed a bit easy. And, Yes, this is addictive isn't it? Love to see what we come up with.

FEEDBACK 12 Oh, a happy ending, I'm not used to those anymore; however, it works nicely. I just don't care too much about Boynton's "Talk to me", I feel it doesn't quite fit--you can find better. No, Jeff, quit the addiction. You can do it. Just skip one scene. Come on, just one, it's enough.

SCENE 5 INT. BAR BASEMENT - DAY HENRY, 29, hangs up his jacket and slips on his apron. He checks his phone and finds a voicemail from his agent: REBECCA. He listens REBECCA Henry, it's Rebecca. I've taken your manuscript to every publishing house in the country and I can't sell it. Maybe you should try something else, it seems like nobody's looking for a horror writer right now. Henry slips his phone into his pocket, sighs, and marches upstairs. INT. BAR - DAY Henry approaches the one customer leaning against the bar: IAIN, 47. He isn't the type of person who frequents this kind of bar and seems like he's lost. HENRY What can I get you? IAIN What kind of wine do you have? HENRY Red, white, there might be some rose downstairs. I can check. We're all outta fizz though, a hen party came by the other night. IAIN (unimpressed) Well, what kind of red do you have? HENRY (sarcastic) The kind that you drink. IAIN Merlot? Shiraz? Pinto Noir? You must know, you're a barman for Christ's sake. HENRY Hey, pal. I'm not a barman. I'm a writer. I work here to pay the bills, got it? IAIN Well, what do you write? HENRY Horror. IAIN Figures. HENRY The fuck did you just say? IAIN Well if you're a writer that has to work in a bar for a living, you can't be a very good one. Henry takes off his apron, and throws it on the ground. IAIN I can see that this isn't my kind of establishment, maybe I'll try somewhere down the street. Good luck with that writing career of yours. Iain leaves. HENRY (half-assed) Yeah, get out of here and don't come back. Henry sheepishly puts his apron back over his head.

Feedback four "Well if you’re a writer that has to work in a bar for a living, you can’t be a very good one" I think the dialogue will be stronger if you leave out the first part of the sentence and make of the second one a complete sentence. That will really fuel Henry's bad mood. His reaction, throwing his apron onto the ground, feels like a weak reaction. I would make him run downstairs and get a bottle of red wine, fills a glass and drinks it himself instead of giving it to the customer. Whatever you write, his reaction could be stronger and the customer could slam the door shut instead of just walking away.