Radical Actor

What Would Paris Do? by Gary O. Bennett

gobennett — Sun, 01 Jun 2008 14:00:50 +0000

Lily sits on a couch reading an US Magazine. She is casually dressed and is flipping pages. On the floor is a very large green army duffel bag which is zipped tight and bulging. Piper walks in wearing a jacket and carrying a Starbucks cup. She hands it to Lily, who takes it without raising her eyes from the magazine. Piper sits opposite Lily on a chair.

Piper: It’s starting to smell.

Lily: That’s me. I farted.

Piper: Oh.

Lily: Hey, this is not a Venti. I told you to get me a Venti.

Piper: You told me to get you the largest cappuccino. So I got you a Grande.

Lily: You been in living in a closet? Venti is larger than a Grande. Like even my mother knows that. This is soy milk. You got me a soy milk cappuccino, right Piper?

Piper: I can’t remember now what I told the guy.

Lily: I am lactose intolerant. This has to be soy.

Piper: You’re not lactose intolerant. You had a Ben & Jerry’s the other day.

Lily: I’m having my period. I am lactose intolerant during my period.

Lily takes a sip.

Lily: It’s milk. It’s milk. I’ll get cramps. Lindsay Lohan is in re-hab again.

Piper: How long are we going to wait?

Lily: And Britney Spears looks like a pig with red lipstick.

Piper: Lily, how can you be so calm?

Lily: Calm? Am I calm? I am not calm, Piper. I am in my protective zone of denial. That is not calm.

Piper: OK. OK. How are we going to get rid of this?

Piper points to the duffel bag.

Lily: I’m thinking.

Piper: OK, this is not good. This is not good.

Lily: Thinking is not good?

Piper: Because the thinking should have been yesterday. Yesterday, thinking was good. Today…today it worries me.

Lily: You have to stop worrying, Piper. You’re going to get hives. Did you ever notice how Paris Hilton is always standing in the same pose? She’s got like one pose. What would Paris do?

Piper: What would Paris do about what?

Lily: About this. About our large duffel bag here. What would Paris do?

Piper: I don’t think Paris Hilton owns a duffel bag.

Lily: The point being if Paris had her boyfriend in a duffel, what would she do?

Piper: Jeez. I don’t think I know, Lily. You call this thinking? We have a major fucking problem on our hands, and Miss Protective Zone of Denial focusses on Paris Hilton.

Lily: At least I’m focusing. Your a basketcase. Chill so we can think. Damn. I’m getting cramps. I told you I would get cramps.

Piper: I’m a basketcase because I am responsible for this mess. I didn’t mean to kill George, you know. It was an accident.

Lily: Yeah, right. The hammer you used to smash his skull in was an accident.

Piper: I thought it would just be like a little bump, Lily. You don’t have to be so judgmental. Plus, jeez, I am upset, you know. I liked George. And now he’s…and now he’s in a duffel bag.

Lily: Excuse me, Piper, but he is in my duffel bag. The one you never returned to me after I loaned to you. The duffel bag that I used when I drove across country with Bill, who, by the way, never got any bumps on his head.

Piper: I thought you hated Bill.

Lily: I hate a lot of people. But I don’t kill them. I have a little self-restraint.

Piper starts to cry.

Lily: Piper. Piper. Would you stop that girlie shit. You killed your boyfriend. Don’t make into a federal case. It’s history. The only remaining problem, a minor one, is getting rid of the body.

Piper: Minor? This is a minor problem? (point to the duffel bag)

Lily: You undressed him, right?

Piper: Yes. He’s…he’s naked…(Piper starts to cry again)

Lily: Totally? Is he totally naked? No rings? No underwear?

Piper: He’s wearing socks.

Lily gets up, unzips one end of the bag and pulls out two white socks. Before she re-zips the bag she does a double take on something in the bag. She then zips the bag up. Lily sits back down loking concerned.

Piper: What’s the matter?

Lily: He has a tatoo with your name on it.

Piper: I know. That’s why I left the socks on to cover the name.

Lily: Oh like the forensic guys are not going to take the socks off. The first thing they do is take the clothes off. It’s on all the TV shows. And it’s your WHOLE fucking name. “I love Piper Morgan.”

Piper: Yeah. It was a beautiful gesture.

Lily: To make it even easier for the police, he should have put your email on his leg too.

Piper: My email? And get spam? Forget it.

Lily: So now we are going to have to cut off his lower leg.

Piper: What? We are doing no such thing.

Lily: We cut it off, put it in a wood chipper…I saw that on TV too…and then we toss the rest of George on a Greyhound bus to California.

Piper: I’m not going to California.

Lily: I know that. We buy a ticket, check the bag, and then skeedattle.

Piper: That’ll work?

Lily: See. See, I’m thinking. I’m thinking. I am thinking. So find a hack saw and start cutting.

Piper: You do it.

Lily: I’m not into the tool thing. I see you with the tools.

Piper: Oh, so I’m supposed to cut his leg off.

Lily: Who do you suggest then?

Piper: Why don’t we get Bill to do it, then kill him and send them both to California on a bus. Two duffle bags on a bus.

Lily: Is that supposed to be funny? Is that supposed to be funny?

Piper: Am I laughing?

Lily: He called me the other day begging to get back together. Can you believe that asshole, after having an affair with that silicone babe from his acting class.

Piper: Bill was taking acting classes?

Lily: He said he was rehearsing. That he had to have sex nine times to prepare for some acting exercise.

Piper: I hear actors do that.

Lily: Nine times. What, he couldn’t prepare with just one blow job. I hate that son-of-a-bitch.

Lily takes out her cell phone and punches in a few numbers.

Lily: (on the cell phone) Bill. Bill. Sweetheart. Yes. Yes. OK. I know, I know, it was part of your class thing. Yes. Yes. Look, I am at Piper’s apartment. You want to come over. Maybe we can, I don;t know, talk about getting away. Maybe taking a little trip. Yeah, now. Come over now. I am feeling….I am feeling like I need to just wrap you up and drag you around a little bit…that’s how much I want to see you. Yes. Good. See you in an hour.

Lily snaps the phone shut.

Piper: Lily, I was kidding. You are not going to…

Lily: So now we need a hack saw and a hammer.

Piper: I have a hammer, remember.

Lily: So you do the…you do the…cutting…the leg cutting. I’ll bop Bill on the head with the hammer. You’ll give me pointers, right? You know how to bop a guy on the head just right, don’t you?

Piper: Bill have any tatoos?

Lily: Yeah. “I love Mom.”

Piper: She won’t be a suspect.

Lily: You never met his Mom.

Piper: OK. OK. This is all very amusing. But it is not funny. This is not funny, Lily. You’re not killing Bill. And I’m not cutting any legs off. This is serious…for chrissake, I’m like in big trouble here.

Lily: Oh, that’s right. Think of yourself. How do you think George feels? How do you think I feel? I’m now stuck in the shit pile you have created.

Piper: Stop it.

Lily: We have to do something. And now you have me all wound up in your crime.

Piper: It’s not a crime, Lily. It was an accident.

Lily: Why didn’t you tell me you killed George before you so conveniently invited me over for lunch, huh? Which by the way you have not served. I’m starving.

Piper: All I have is cereal and three slices of pizza from last night. George and I didn’t finish it. He started yelling at me because I forgot to order the pepperoni.

Lily: Don’t tell me this is all about pepperoni?

Piper: I should never have had a hammer in the house. They say never keep weapons in the house. You never know when and how they will get used. Katie Couric did a thing on it last week.

Lily: Was the pizza delivered? Like by a pizza delivery guy?

Piper: Yeah.

Lily: And who answered the door? Who paid the guy?

Piper: George did.

Lily: Great. Now there is a witness that George was here. You…you…you…you are totally fucked Piper. I’m gettting out of here. You never invited me over. This is your problem. Your problem.

Piper: No. Please. Please don’t go. I’m so scared. What am I going to do? Please, Lily. You’re my best friend. I’m sorry I invited you over. But help me figure this out. Please help me. I am so in trouble.

Lily: Oh shit. Bill is coming over.

Lily pulls out her cell phone.

Lily: I can’t believe I invited Bill over. What was I thinking? Bill. Bill, listen, plans have changed. Piper and I have… what? You haven’t even left yet? I mean that much to you that you just liike wanted to rush right over, huh? And who are you talking to? Is that Rachel? That’s Rachel. I love it. You are such a jerk, Bill. You thought like you’d fuck around with Rachel then come over here and fuck around with me? Go to hell dickface.

Lily hangs up her cell phone.

Lily: I’ll get get my car. We’ll put some weights in the duffel. Drive to, I don’t know, the Delaware Water Gap and drop George in the river.

Piper: I’m scared.

Lily: Yeah, well, so am I. But we have no choice. It’s a Thelma and Louise thing, but we’re not going to drive off a cliff.

Piper: This isn’t going to work.

Lily: Probably not.

Pieer picks up the telephone.

Piper: Hi. There was an accident. There’s a dead body in my apartment. I’m at 101 West 81st Street. Apartment 7E. Yes. Yes. My name is Piper Morgan. Yes, it is my apartment. OK. OK.

Lily: What did you do that for? I had the whole Water Gap thing figured out.

Piper: It’s the right thing. I just did the right thing. My mother always told me if I do the right thing, God will take care of me. But can you help me take George out of the duffel. That might show we were planning on getting away with something.

Lily: You just did the Thelma and Louise thing. You drove us off a cliff.

Piper: It’s not what Paris Hilton would have done, huh?

Lily: You’re thinking of Paris Hilton at a time like this. I am out of here. It’s you and the police. And the right thing, Piper, is to not mention my name when the police get here. God will take care of you. I can’t.

Lily starts to walk backwards toward the door.

Lily: I love you, Piper. I love you. OK.

At that moment, a grunt is HEARD, and the girls see the duffel bag move. There is a long pause.

Piper: He’s alive. George is alive.

Lily: Are you joking me? You didn’t check his pulse? You didn’t check his pulse?

Piper: I don’t know how to do that.

Lily: You don;t know how to do that? You don’t know…

Lily rushes to Piper and hugs her, surprizing Piper. They remain in a hug for the rest of the scene.

Lily: This is crazy. Can’t you just have a normal day, for once, Piper. Just like maybe pick one day of the week, Tuesdays are good. Make Tuesdays normal, OK?

Piper: Do you think maybe we should take George out of the duffle bag? He might suffocate.

Lily: You know, it ain’t easy, but I love you, Piper. I love you.

Piper: I love you too.

THE END

Hillary Picks A Running Mate

gobennett — Wed, 30 May 2007 02:20:25 +0000

INT.

A MAN talks to the CAMERA, which is the point of view of HILLARY CLINTON, who sits in a chair. Hillary can’t talk. The Man talks to Hillary.

MAN: OK. OK. OK. I’m OK. I’m OK. I’ve got it together. I do. I do. It will be OK. Yes. Yes. So far so good. Jeez. This is so different from what it must have been like. You know. Back in Little Rock. My Dad told me what it was like. Working for Bill. But this ain’t so different. It’s just scale. Right. Little Rock was Little Rock. Now it’s just…well, bigger. My Daddy said when he was dying that you would both come to his funeral. But nope. Just Bill came. You were off somewhere. Bill spoke. It made the local paper. I mean he was President and he found the time to come back to Little Rock to say a few words about my Daddy. Not you. I remembered that . I remembered that. Don’t look at me that way. Now you see, you’re drooling. It’s the drug I gave you. Well, actually, two drugs. One to knock you out so I could bring you here. The other to deaden your mouth and tongue. That’s why you can’t talk. Funny. Hillary can’t talk. Usually Hillary can’t stop talking. Not now at least with you running for President. Well, no more. That’s over. Bill was explaining how it works. Bill’s so smart, but he never makes you think he’s smarter than you, you know. It’s like he listens and cares and then says his thing, and it’s smart, and you know it’s smarter than anything you said, but he never makes you feel stupid. He’s got that gift, you know. It’s not something you have, Hill. You can always tell you think you’re smarter. It’s like you listen but it hurts, doesn’t it. Well listen to this, because it’s really going to hurt. Bill told me that the Constitution, that’s the US Constitution, the Twenty-Second Amendment to be particular, says a President can’t be elected President more than twice. The operative word there is elected. So you see Bill Clinton can become President again, just not by an election. So here’s the thing. You have to pick him, your loving husband, to be your running mate. According to Bill, well, you see, according to him, he just cannot deal with the fact that you would have another man running as your, well, running mate. So this little thing we are doing right now…this little thing is a reminder that you have to take the political risk of making him your running mate. Hey, JFK made his brother the Attorney General, right? I know what you are thinking. The Twenty-Second Amendment has a little loophole. Bill, if he were your Vice President, could become President again if you were to, well, I don’t know, like….go kaput. But that’s not likely. So it will just be a Clinton-Clinton ticket. Get it. There is nothing the Republicans can come up with that can beat that. That’s what Bill figures. And that is what you are going to figure. When I give you this (MAN HOLDS UP HYPERDERMIC NEEDLE), you will fall into a deep deep sleep and you will wake up where you thought you went to bed, and you will slog your way to the kitchen and come up with a brilliant idea. Yep. And you will tell Bill about your idea and he will tell you he loves you and that it is brilliant. Clinton-Clinton. All the bumper stickers on all the cars. I love it. Bill loves it. And you will love it. Okie dokie. Now go beddy bye and remember, this is your idea. Your idea. Nighty night.

Pizza Delivery In A War Zone by Gary O. Bennett

gobennett — Thu, 22 Feb 2007 13:18:56 +0000

INT. SHEILA’S APARTMENT

               The door opens revealing RICHARD, a guy about 25 wearing a
               Pizza Hut hat and holding a large pizza box. SHEILA, who has
               short grey hair and is holding a shawl wrapped around her
               shoulders as if she was trying to keep warm, is standing
               inside the apartment.

RICHARD
Hey. That will be ten sixty five.

SHEILA
Okay.

Sheila doesn’t offer money. Awkward pause.

                                   RICHARD
                         Okay. Good. Is someone else
                         getting the money?

                                   SHEILA
                         No. I’m alone. Would you like to
                         come in?

                                   RICHARD
                         Uh, no thank you, I have a lot of
                         other pizzas to deliver.

                                   SHEILA
                         But I’ve set up such a nice dinner
                         for us.

RICHARD
Lady, I’m just the pizza guy.

SHEILA
What’s your name?

RICHARD
Richard.

SHEILA
Richard what?

RICHARD
Finkelstein. Richard Finkelstein.

Sheila reaches into her back pocket and pulls out a handgun,
pointing the barrel at Richard’s head.

                                   SHEILA
                         My name is Sheila. You sure you
                         won’t have dinner with me?

CUT TO:

INT. SHEILA’S APARTMENT DINNER TABLE

               There is a candle on the table. The pizza box is open, a few
               slices are missing. A bottle of wine, with an empty wine
               glass next to Richard, who sits opposite Sheila. The handgun
               lies on its side next to Sheila’s right hand. Sheila is
               sipping white wine from her wine glass.

SHEILA
I don’t like to drink alone.

RICHARD
You’re not…alone.

                                   SHEILA
                         What I mean is…I prefer to share
                         what I am drinking with a man.

                                   RICHARD
                         I don’t really like wine. You got
                         a beer? I’ll drink beer even
                         though I’m not supposed to be
                         drinking and working.

SHEILA
You’re working?

                                   RICHARD
                         Well, yeah, I’m delivering pizzas,
                         lady…

                                   SHEILA
                         You keep calling me lady, like I’m
                         your grandmother.

                                   RICHARD
                         It’s a respect thing I show older
                         women, you know, like my mother.

SHEILA
You call your mother lady?

                                   RICHARD
                         No, I mean, you look like my
                         mother’s age so I am in that
                         respectful mode.

SHEILA
How old do you think I am, Richard?

RICHARD
I don’t know. Forty…fifty.

                                   SHEILA
                         Fifty? Fifty? Did you say fifty?
                         I’m not happy you said fifty,
                         Richard. This does not make me
                         happy.

                                   RICHARD
                         You know, I, ah, really have to get
                         to my next delivery.

SHEILA
What’s your favorite thing to do?

RICHARD
My favorite…

                                   SHEILA
                         Your favorite activities. A sport?
                         You like reading? Do you have a
                         hobby? Is this a difficult issue
                         for you?

                                   RICHARD
                         No. I like…I like computer
                         games.

SHEILA
Computer games?

                                   RICHARD
                         Yeah. You know, we can talk about
                         all this after I deliver my pizzas.
                         I really can’t lose this job,
                         again.

                                   SHEILA
                         Tell me about the computer games.
                         I want to know.

                                   RICHARD
                         You wouldn’t know anything about
                         this stuff. It wouldn’t mean
                         anything to you.

                                   SHEILA
                         First you assume I am old. Now you
                         assume I am stupid. You going
                         insult me a third time?

                                   RICHARD
                         I play Warcraft. World of
                         Warcraft. OK.

                                   SHEILA
                         Yeah. What level is your
                         character?

RICHARD
Excuse me?

SHEILA
You get to level seventy yet?

RICHARD
You know about…

SHEILA
There you go again.

                                   RICHARD
                         Sorry. No. My character is level
                         63.

                                   SHEILA
                         You’re a Night Elf Rogue, aren’t
                         you?

                                   RICHARD
                         Ah, no. No. I’m a Warrior. A
                         warrior.

                                   SHEILA
                         Don’t lie to me. You’re a Night
                         Elf Rogue. A rogue. A female
                         rogue with long brown hair.

                                   RICHARD
                         I am not. I am not. My Night Elf
                         has long hair, yeah, and wears
                         tights, but it is not a female.
                         OK. OK. So it’s a rogue. Big
                         deal.

                                   SHEILA
                         A rogue with tights and long hair.
                         And you are not level 63. You are
                         level 70.

                                   RICHARD
                         Look, I really have to go. I need
                         to hold onto my job, OK.
                         Plus…plus I am actually taking a
                         course in computer programming, OK.
                         And I have a test tomorrow.
                         Tomorrow. So I have to study for
                         it. I don’t have time for this.
                         How do you know I am level 70? You
                         can’t possibly know that.

               Sheila takes off her grey hair, revealing that it was a wig,
               her long brown hair falls down to her shoulders, and she
               removes the shawl, revealing, well, a revealing tank top.
               She picks up the handgun and points it at Richard.

                                   SHEILA
                         You destroyed my guild last week.
                         You and your stupid alliance guild,
                         what do you call it, the League of
                         the Rightious? You’re Moondrager.
                         The leader.

                                   RICHARD
                         You’re…you’re joking? Please
                         tell me you are joking, Sheila.

                                   SHEILA
                         It’s Maximus. I am Maximus, a
                         Blood Elf Warlock leader of the
                         Guild of Hate.

RICHARD
You’re Maximus? But we…

                                   SHEILA
                         Killed me…hah!…so you
                         thought…while you were decimating
                         my guild, I escaped to Warsong
                         Gulch.

                                   RICHARD
                         OK. OK. This is all very
                         weird…and interesting. But we
                         have to keep our internet lives
                         separate from our real lives, don’t
                         we? This is not healthy.

                                   SHEILA
                         We caucused last night in the
                         Arathi Basin and we decided that to
                         destroy the League of the
                         Rightious, we had to destroy
                         Moondrager. And to destroy
                         Moondrager we had to destroy
                         Richard Finkelstein. Without you,
                         there is no Moondrager. And
                         without Moondrager, your guild will
                         collapse. Long live the Horde.

                                   RICHARD
                         Stop it. Just stop it, Sheila.
                         You are Sheila. Not Maximus. You
                         must separate yourself from your
                         gaming life, Sheila.

SHEILA
I am Maximus the Destroyer.

                                   RICHARD
                         You are Sheila the Nutcase. I’m
                         joking. I’m joking, OK. Listen.
                         You are here, right here in the
                         real world, Sheila. See, this
                         happens. I knew this would happen.
                         These computer games get into our
                         blood and they can like change our
                         DNA. You have to come back to the
                         real world. Sheila, are you
                         listening to me?

SHEILA
Listening?

                                   RICHARD
                         With your ears, Sheila. Listen
                         with your ears. You are not at a
                         keyboard. I am not a computer
                         screen. You are holding a gun not
                         a sword.

SHEILA
Yes. Yes. A gun.

                                   RICHARD
                         OK. I did not mean to refer to the
                         gun so you can use it. Just as an
                         example that you and I are not in
                         Warcraft right now. We are here,
                         in your apartment. Eating pizza.

SHEILA
Yes. Yes. Eating pizza.

                                   RICHARD
                         Yes. This is why I am taking a
                         computer programming course. It’s
                         like alcoholics anonymous. I have
                         to be slapped in the face like
                         weekly to grasp that Warcraft is nothing
                         more than computer code. Letters
                         and numbers and symbols, all code.
                         It is not real. It is not real.
                         Which reminds me, I really need to
                         study for my exam tomorrow.

CUT TO:

INT. SHEILA’S APARTMENT COUCH

               Sheila and Richard sit on the couch. Richard is holding a
               pad of paper and he is writing on the pad. Sheila is looking
               at the pad.

                                   RICHARD
                         You see this line of code. That is
                         essentially your character on
                         Warcraft. Well, actually, all it
                         is is your hair. It’s your
                         character’s hair. Red hair. I
                         can’t do the code for your entire
                         character. That’s like way
                         advanced stuff.

                                   SHEILA
                         Hey, this is not permitted. The
                         Horde is not permitted to have a
                         relationship with the Alliance.

                                   RICHARD
                         Sheila. Sheila, remember where we
                         are.

                                   SHEILA
                         Yes. Right. Your name is Richard.
                         My name is Sheila.

                                   RICHARD
                         And it is OK for us to have a
                         relationship, OK.

SHEILA
Really?

                                   RICHARD
                         In theory. I mean, it’s OK. It’s
                         OK. In theory.

Sheila then grabs Richard and kisses him. It is a long kiss.
Richard relents.

SHEILA
You just kissed a Warlock.

                                   RICHARD
                         Yeah. No. No. I just kissed a
                         beautiful woman. You are a woman,
                         Sheila.

                                   SHEILA
                         And you are definitely not a
                         Warrior, Richard. You are a rogue.
                         Richard the Rogue. The best rogue
                         I have ever had.

RICHARD
How the hell did you find me?

SHEILA
Your profile is posted on My Space.

                                   RICHARD
                         Shit. I really have to delete that
                         thing.

SHEILA
Give me a lesson.

RICHARD
Yeah. In what?

SHEILA
Re-write my code. Like right now.

With that remark, Sheila grabs Richard again and they kiss.

FADE TO BLACK.

THE END.

Who’s Afraid Of Velma Weiss? by Gary O. Bennett

gobennett — Sun, 04 Feb 2007 18:45:36 +0000

VELMA is in a chair. Her arms are tied behind her, and her ankles are tied to the two front legs of the heavy wood chair. A balled sock has been shoved in her mouth. Sitting opposite her is GEORGE, also in a wood hair tied up similarly. But George’s head is slumped forward, and nothing has been shoved in his mouth. George is wearing tortoise shell glasses that are a bit crooked on his face. Velma struggles to get the balled sock out of her mouth. At some point she successfully spits it out, the sock flying across the space between Velma and George. The balled sock beans George in the head.

Velma: Asshole. Hey, asshole, wake up.

George stirs, his head rising slowly. He feels pain, primarily from the neck up.

George: What…

Velma: What. What do you mean what? Look at me. Look at me.

George: What happened? Jeez, my head.

Velma: That’s right. Focus on your head and not the fact that your wife is tied up to a chair. Typical Georgie boy. Think of yourself and not me. Look at me. Look at me.

George: Velma…sweetheart.

Velma: Velma sweetheart. Is that funny? Is that supposed to be a joke? Or are you just being typical dimwit George. Untie me. Untie me right now.

George struggles to get free, but he is tied too well.

Velma You going to let a few ropes tied around your anemic arms and legs stop you. Get out of that chair. My butt is falling asleep.

George: What happened?

Velma: What happened? I’ll tell you what happened. You stood there and watched this black mother fucker tie me to this chair. That’s what happened.

George: Did he hurt you?

Velma: Did he hurt me? Georgie, my sweet, darling impotent husband…you there, you just stood there and watched that overgrown cretin tie me to this chair. You saw him push me down and slap me around and stick a sock in my mouth. Your filthy sock, stuck in my mouth, and you stood there scared like a little school girl about to get raped.

George: I didn’t know what to do.

Velma: Well, let’s see. You could have picked up a lamp and clonked him on the head.

George: Velma, he would have hit me.

Velma: You’re concerned about getting hit when your wife…your wife, Georgie, was getting tied up. Not just tied up, George. Tied up by a black man who touched me. He touched me and pushed me down and squeezed my arms. And then pushed my head back and opened my mouth.

George: Yes. I am sorry about that.

Velma: His hands smelled like, I don’t know, like a black man’s. Greasy and gross. It was disgusting and…and violent. And you just stood there.

George: But how did I get like this?

Velma: This shows what a loser you are, George. His back was turned to you, and you watched the whole thing like you were watching TV. And Georgie just let it happen. I even thought I saw a smile on your face. But I’m guessing you were just frozen. Some dumb fuck frozen fear carved on your face.

George: I was concerned.

Velma: And then the gorilla turns around and faces you and there was like this thing.

George: Thing?

Velma: Yeah this moment where I thought you were going to actually and finally prove to me that you are a man and not a little boy without pubic hair. This moment where you looked confident, where you were about to say something. And then the gorilla walks out of the room, leaving us alone.

George: Yes, I remember that.

Velma: Yeah, asshole, do you remember me trying to talk to you with a sock in my mouth, trying to tell you to untie me? Do you remmeber that?

George: I remember you were upset. But you are often upset, Velma. And it did not seem much different than any other time you get upset.

Velma: Didn’t seem different. A black man is in our house and he’s not a plumber or the cable guy, he’s a fucking burgler, George, and he stuck a sock in my mouth, and you don’t think this was different than any other normal moment when I get pissed?

George: Maybe he was the cable guy. He looked familiar.

Velma: So I’m trying to get you to, what George, guess what I was trying to get you to do while you stood there with your wife tied up in a chair with a sock in her mouth?

George: OK, sweetheart, I know. I should have untied you, and I was going to do it, but then I don’t remember anything.

Velma: That’s because the black guy comes back in and hits you on the head with the butt of a handgun.

George: He did? That jerk.

Velma: Oh, he’s a jerk because he hits you on the head, but he’s the cable guy when he ties up your wife?

George: So then he tied me to this chair?

Velma: My mother was right. Don’t marry a Jew, she said. Don’t marry a Jew because they are all fucking wimps.

George: Your mother said that?

Velma: My father thought you were a fag.

George: Your mother used the word “fuck”?

Velma: I told Daddy that you weren’t a fag. At least I didn’t think so.

George: Velma, would you stop it with the fag thing. It’s so old, already.

Velma: It bothers you because you know it’s true. You don’t touch me with lust, Georgie. You touch me like I’m some carved statue in a museum.

George: Velma, you are going into the zone, into that hysterical place. You don’t need to go there, sweetheart. OK, OK, so try to pull yourself back. Because trust me, you don’t want to go there. You don’t want to go there.

Velma: You know George, let’s just get this out right now. I hate the name Weiss. I hate that my name announces that I am a Jew.

George: Technically, you are not a Jew, Velma. You never converted.

Velma: I know I am not a Jew, schmuckhead. But everyone thinks I am. Shit, people think I am a Jewish girl who married a fag. A Jewish fag. Do you see why I am hysterical? Do you see why this drives me insane.

George: Where is the cable guy…the black man?

Velma: He’s upstairs, probably, stealing my jewelry. Jewelry, I remind you, that was not only my mother’s but much of it purchased for me by my father because he knew what a cheap bastard you were. Do you remember the engagement ring you tried to give me?

George: It was all I could afford. Damn, Velma, are we going down this road now?

Velma: Stainless steel with a zirconium stone. And a small zirconium stone, at that. A fucking fake diamond that was not only fake but it was tiny, the size of a peppercorn. My father was right. Cheap cheap cheap. He said all Jews are cheap. He said George was marrying me for the money.

George: That’s not true, Velma. I loved you. You were the most beautiful…the most beautiful vision that ever came into my life. Ever. You were gorgeous when we married. You were actually sweet and…and normal.

Velma: Normal?

George: And I dreamed of having children and having a life with you as a mother.

Velma: Oh, your making me cry, Georgie. Children. Little fuckers running around that I have to feed every morning and read books to and put to bed at night. Sounds like hell. You’re making me think you even give a shit.

George: I do give a shit. I have always given a shit. But you don’t see it.

Velma: The only thing I saw was a big black man nearly rape me in front of you.

George: He raped you?

Velma: At least that black fuck upstairs is just too stupid to know that my jewelry box is filled with fake diamonds, stuffed to the brim with all the fake crap you have given me through the years.

At that moment a black man walks into the room. His presence startles both Velma and George. The black man is holding several pieces of jewelry in his hand. His name is JACQUES, but we do not know that yet.

Jacques: This jewelry is all phony. Do you have a safe, Mr. Weiss?

George: Jacques, what did you do? Why am I tied up?

Velma: Jacques? Jacques? You know this guy?

George: I told you, Velma, he is our cable guy.

Jacques: Mr. Weiss, I am sorry. I had a change of plans. The money did not seem sufficient compensation for the service to be rendered. So I thought I would partake myself of your beautiful wife’s jewelry, but I have discovered that everything in the house appears to be fake. Not a genuine diamond to be found anywhere. Very disappointing. So perhaps a safe might be around somewhere?

George: Jacques, there is no safe. My wife keeps everything of value in a deposit box at the bank. And there is little or no cash in the house, I am afraid.

Jacques: Ah well. So I guess we are back to Plan A.

Jacques then quickly unties George.

Velma: What the fuck is going on here?

George: Those ropes really hurt, Jacques.

Jacques: I am sorry. I was moving with haste and possibly made the knots too tight.

George stands, massaging his wrists.

Velma: I don’t mean to interrupt the boy talk, but Jacquey baby, if you are my cable guy, then uncable me while you are at it.

Jacques looks over at George. George acknowledges. Jacques proceeds to cut the ropes that tie Velma.

Velma: So what is this Plan A? Don’t tell me Georgie that you have gone into business with a black man. My baby Jewish husband in business with a nnn…excuse me. Forgive me for even thinking of the n-word. But the Jew Boy and the Black Man are in business together to do what? To do what? May I ask? May I ask you Jacquey what this insufficient compensation was? You know my husband is a cheap bastard, so of course you are going to get gyped no matter what the service you were suppose to render. But I am surprised that you would even know the difference between adequate versus inadequate compensation. I love it. The cheap man hires the stupid man to do what? What the fuck were you supposed to do?

By now Velma is untied and standing and massaging her wrists, and is talking herself into a frenzy.

Velma: What was he paying you? Can you remember? You have a memory? You have a brain? Watch it Black man because Jew boy might steal your brain and sell it. Whoops, excuse me. Jews don’t steal, isn’t that right honey. They just buy cheap. Blacks steal. Jews pay shit, which of course is like stealing. Actually, OUTright stealing is more honest. Jacques here is an honest thief, one who has acknowledged his genetic inclination to steal while my husband hides behind the Jewish gene that makes him pay so little it is just like stealing. In fact it is stealing. But it’s dishonest. Is that what they mean by Jewish guilt. You feel guilty for not acknowledging your true nature? Jesus, I hate my last name. I hate my last name. I almost would rather be married to a black gorilla, like Jacques here. At least Jacques has a penis. A super jumbo big one, I am sure. Pulsating for some black woman.

At this point Jacques pulls out a handgun.

Velma: What is that? What is that?

Jacques: I see what you have been talking about, Mr. Weiss.

George: Yes. Yes. Velma has given you one of her performances.

Velma: What is that gun doing here? I don’t like guns, George. I don’t like guns pointing at me. Is George paying you to do something to me, Jacques? Because whatever he is paying you, I can pay you more. I am the one with money. Not George.

Jacques: Is that true, Mr. Weiss?

George: Yes. It is true. She can pay you more.

Velma: Love it. I love it. What is it you want? Name the price, then turn that gun on George and blow his head off.

Jacques: Mr. Weiss is paying me a thousand dollars.

Velma: A thousand….you can’t even pay a decent price to murder your wife? A thousand dollars. You cheap son of a bitch. OK. OK. I will pay you ten thousand dollars, Jacques. Ten thousand. Does that get your fat black lips wet, huh?

Jacques: Ten thousand? That is a lot of money.

Velma: Oh yeah. Oh yeah, a lot for you. A lot for you, I am sure.

Jacques then fires the gun, the bullet piercing Velma’s forehead, she falls back, dead and QUIET. There is a long pause, both men staring at the dead woman.

Jacques: I trust you will forgive me for temporarily considering a change of plans. I see that Plan A was the preferred plan.

George: Do you notice the quiet?

Jacques: Yes.

George: I’ve killed her a million times in my head, and now…and now (starting to well up) …a wood chipper. You are putting her in a wood chipper?

Jacques: That is Plan A.

George: OK. OK. I guess that will make certain the house stays quiet. I’ll take back Velma’s jewelry, if you don’t mind.

Jacques: Yes. Of course.

Jacques hands the fake jewelry to George.

George: You know I am not getting ESPN in high def.

Jacques: No?

George: And I pay for the high def cable box, so I would like to get it.

Jacques: You want me to check on it for you now?

George: There’s a Knicks game on tonight. You like Chinese?

Jacques: I prefer sushi.

George: Velma hated sushi. Hey, I owe you that thousand.

Jacques: I didn’t shoot her for the money. She was giving me a headache.

George: So you don’t want the thousand?

Jacques: Your wife was right?

George: How’s that?

Jacques: You are cheap.

Jacques pats George on the shoulder as he turns to walk out of the room. Just before he leaves…

Jacques: I’ll fix that cable box. No charge. And make it sushi.

Jacques leaves George alone, who stares with an empty look at the beautiful and very dead Velma.

THE END.

The Big After by Gary O. Bennett

gobennett — Wed, 18 Oct 2006 13:39:38 +0000

INT ABANDONED BUILDING NIGHT

The CAMERA is low. There is garbage, paper, rags, broken bottles, everything covered in dust. A man is on the floor, his back to the wall, his head slumped over. He is wearing an overcoat, and his feet are wrapped in bags and duct tape. Surrounding him are cans of a variety of foods, from vegetables to fruit. Into the FRAME of the CAMERA arrives a pair of work boots. The CAMERA cranes up revealing a gloved hand holding a handgun. The person walks toward the man on the floor, kicking his legs to jostle him. The man, his name TOM, wakes.

TOM: What.

Tom is startled. We now see the person with the gun. It is a woman. Her name is KAYLENE. She is wearing a surgical mask. She partially removes the surgical mask to speak.

KAYLENE: You sick?

TOM: No.

KAYLENE: When was the last time you vomited?

TOM: I haven’t.

KAYLENE: Bullshit.

TOM: No, really.

Kaylene removes the surgical mask from her face completely.

TOM: You going to use that? The gun?

KAYLENE: Food. You seem to have lots of food. Where’d you get it?

TOM: You want some?

KAYLENE: Is this all you have?

TOM: The food?

KAYLENE: The food. The food. You have more cans?

TOM: Yes.

KAYLENE: Where?

TOM: OK, now see, you’re going to use that gun, aren’t you?

Kaylene holds the butt of the handgun up showing Tom an empty magazine slot.

KAYLENE: No ammunition. But it gets people’s attention.

Kaylene places the handgun in her coat pocket.

TOM: You have any alcohol? Beer? Wine? Whiskey?

KAYLENE: Vodka. A truckload.

TOM: A truckload? There’s a truck?

KAYLENE: It’s twisted and burnt and crushed. But the rig in the back survived the blast. And it was filled with vodka.

TOM: Was filled? It’s not there now?

KAYLENE: What do you think?

TOM: Yeah. OK.

KAYLENE: But I have some. About twenty bottles.

TOM: Russian?

KAYLENE: What’s that?

TOM: Russia. The country.

KAYLENE: Are you trying to get smart with me?

TOM: I have books.

KAYLENE: Yeah. So what?

TOM: I’m just saying, I try to read up on stuff. What happened.

KAYLENE: I know what Russia was. A country. Right?

TOM: Yes. And they had the best vodka. The bottles, the glass was clear. The name of it began with an “S.” On the label. A building.

KAYLENE: The bottles have no labels. And the glass is blue. Like the dead.

TOM: You mean green. The dead are green.

KAYLENE: They turn blue first. Then if you they don’t get cooked, they turn green. More difficult to cook.

TOM: Cook?

KAYLENE: The problem is usually starting the fire.

TOM: They cook the bodies? For food?

KAYLENE: How long you’ve been shut in here?

TOM: I try to stay within a few buildings. Near my stuff. Is that the smell? There’s a really bad smell I can’t place. It comes and goes.

KAYLENE: Cooking the greenies smells bad.

TOM: You ever eat…you ever eat that?

KAYLENE: Once. Maybe twice. Sometimes you don’t know. It gets mashed in with other stuff. Can I sit down?

TOM: Yeah.

Kaylene sits next to Tom on the floor, her back to the wall.

KAYLENE: You don’t have an odor.

TOM: Well, gee, thanks.

KAYLENE: There’s a distinct odor to the sick. They try to hide it so they don’t get killed.

TOM: They’re killing the sick? For food?

KAYLENE: No. The sick can’t be eaten. No matter how much you cook them. So they say. Say, how many cans of food do you have?

TOM: You asked that already.

KAYLENE: I am just making small talk.

TOM: There is no small talk. Everyone wants something. That’s why I stay away from people.

KAYLENE: You let me in here pretty easy.

TOM: You had a gun.

KAYLENE: You let me sit down.

TOM: I haven’t seen a woman. Well, I haven’t seen a woman up close in a long time.

KAYLENE: So the cans of food. You got lots of cans?

TOM: Like I said, there ain’t no small talk.

KAYLENE: You want to make love?

TOM: What?

KAYLENE: Everything’s a trade. Sex for a case of food. Deal?

TOM: I don’t know. There’s a catch.

KAYLENE: So you have a case. More than one I bet.

TOM: Was that like a trick? To get me to admit something.

KAYLENE: What’s that bruise on your arm?

TOM: A birthmark.

KAYLENE: Yeah. It looks like you’re sick.

TOM: I’m not sick. I have had that all my life. Were you serious about the sex for food thing?

KAYLENE: Yes.

TOM: How do I know you’re not sick?

KAYLENE: You don’t.

TOM: Well, then, maybe I’ll pass on this trade.

KAYLENE: All you have to do is tell me how much food you have. How many cans of food?

TOM: I tell you how many. Then you’ll want to know where I keep them. Then you won’t need me anymore.

KAYLENE: You have a can opener?

TOM: I wish.

KAYLENE: You have a can opener, don’t you?

TOM: What good is that if you don’t know where the cans are?

KAYLENE: I don’t need your cans.

TOM: It’s every man for himself.

KAYLENE: I’m a girl. And did you forget about my offer of sex?

TOM: If we have sex, and then I do not give you any food, then what?

KAYLENE: Then I kill you. And eat you.

TOM: Right.

Kaylene starts to touch Tom on his belly, removing his jacket and shirt, but it is more of a medical examination than sensual. Tom does not know what to do, but he watches.

KAYLENE: You are quite…quite large.

TOM: Thanks.

Kaylene removes her hand and smells it. She then rises and removes the handgun from her jacket and points it at Tom.

KAYLENE: Sorry. I just had to make certain you weren’t sick. Oh, the gun. No magazine, right. Well, I have a full magazine in my pocket. See.

Kaylene reaches into her pcket but can’t seem to find what she is looking for.

TOM: You looking for this?

Tom holds up a magazine.

TOM: You sat next to me. It was easy. Reached into your jacket pocket and took it out. You think I am stupid?

KAYLENE: I wasn’t going to use the gun, silly.

Tom removes a gun of his own.

TOM: When I noticed you had a semi-automatic, the same kind I have, I figured the magazine would come in handy.

Tom places the magazine into his gun and he points it at Kaylene.

KAYLENE: You got to understand something…

TOM: Let me just say one thing. When an animal gets stressed out, it releases all sorts of hormones into the bloodstream that make the muscle acidic and a bit tougher. So I do not want you to get stressed out.

KAYLENE: I was not kidding about the sex. And I was not going to use the gun. I was playing. I like to play. Rough sex. Do you get it? Do you get it?

TOM: Rough sex? Sex with a gun?

KAYLENE: I like it dangerous. Dangerous. Now put the gun down.

TOM: I thought you like it dangerous?

KAYLENE: If we are playing, yes. Are we playing? Are we playing?

TOM: Calm down. Are you calm?

KAYELNE: Yes. I am calm.

TOM: Good. Relax. Because this is not a revenge thing. It’s just…dinner time.

Tom fires the gun, but it just clicks. He pulls the trigger again, and then again, and then again. Just clicks.

KAYLENE: Empty magazine.

TOM: Shit.

KAYLENE: So you were going to eat me, huh. You’d rather eat me than have sex with me. Love it. Quite frankly, the way you look, I’d say your more in need of sex than food.

TOM: I was just joking. I knew the magazine was empty.

Kaylene then removes a magazine from her other pocket and places it in her gun.

TOM: I had a cold last week. I did. Blowing my nose. Threw up once.

KAYLENE: Yeah. OK. So we’ll saute the sinuses.

TOM: Look, there’s a barn. Not far from here, with a storage facility in the basement with a freezer. There are more than a thousand cans of food. Why me when you can have all those cans of food? Really. I’m serious.

Kaylene fires the gun, the bullet enters Tom’s forehead and Tom falls to the ground, dead. Kaylene puts the gun away. She then goes through Tom’s pockets and pulls out a can opener. She smiles and kisses it, placing it in her pocket along with a can of food or two. She then leaves.

THE END.

The Harleys by Gary O. Bennett

gobennett — Thu, 05 Oct 2006 18:45:53 +0000

INT ANTEROOM OFF CONCERT HALL

               JOOLES is standing dressed in all black leather with lots of
               brushed nickel hardware hanging from her. Jooles is holding
               a bottle of water. BONNIE, dressed in a business suit, is
               holding a leather portfolio and a bottle of beer. PIPER is
               sitting on a chair. And DAWN is sitting on a chair. Piper
               and Dawn have semi-biker outfits on mixed with a sprinkling
               of high school prom accessories.

                                   BONNIE
                         OK. So you guys were just sued by
                         Harley Davidson. They claim your
                         use of the name “The Harleys”
                         violates their trademark and
                         copyright and whole bunch of other
                         stuff.

JOOLES
So handle it.

                                   BONNIE
                         What do you mean “handle it?” This
                         is serious.

                                  JOOLES
                         No, Bonnie. No, Bonnie. Our music
                         is serious. Our music. This, this
                         lawsuit is a mere irritation. You
                         handle irritations.

DAWN
Yeah. Tell it like it is.

                                  JOOLES
                         Dawn, did you take something? How
                         are you going to play bass if you
                         are fucked up?

                                   DAWN
                         I’ll just follow Piper’s lead.
                         What are we doing tonight, like
                         four-four time for everything.
                         Yeah, like that’s difficult.

                                   PIPER
                         Not everything. We’re playing Give
                         Me A Rolex which is three-four
                         time.

DAWN
We’re playing that?

JOOLES
No. We are not playing that.

PIPER
What the fuck. You promised.

                                   JOOLES
                         It needs work, like the words,
                         Piper. They are ridiculous.

                                   PIPER
                         Bonnie. Bonnie, tell Miss Boss
                         Rock Band Girl that its in my
                         contract. It’s in my contract. I
                         get to do at least one of my songs
                         per concert.

BONNIE
It’s in the contract.

                                   JOOLES
                         Give Me A Rolex is not a song.
                         It’s noise.

                                   DAWN
                         Give me a Rolex, oh give me a Rolex
                         and then we will have sex and then
                         we will have sex.

BONNIE
Dawn’s voice is not bad, you know.

DAWN
Thanks Bonnie.

PIPER
Those are great lyrics.

BONNIE
Yeah, when Dawn sings them.

                                   JOOLES
                         When Dawn sings them? When Dawn
                         sings them? Is this like some new
                         thinking, Bonnie? Some managerial
                         change you are trying to
                         orchestrate?

                                   BONNIE
                         I’m just saying Dawn has a pleasing
                         voice.

                                   JOOLES
                         She’s fucked up. She’s fucked up
                         on something. What did you take
                         asshole?

DAWN
Hey. That’s not nice.

                                   BONNIE
                         Dawn has way more talent than you
                         give her credit for.

DAWN
Yeah, Bonnie baby.

                                   PIPER
                         I’ll sing them. Shit, they are my
                         words.

                                   JOOLES
                         What? With that mousey voice. You
                         can’t sing and you know it. I’m
                         partners with a Mickey Mouse
                         drummer and a fucked up bassist.

                                   DAWN
                         I am not fucked up. Am I fucked
                         up, Bonnie?

                                   BONNIE
                         Not totally. Unless of course you
                         finished the whole bag.

                                   JOOLES
                         Oh, fuck. Whole bag? You going to
                         fall asleep standing up playing the
                         bass tonight, Dawn?

BONNIE
Did you finish the whole bag, Dawn?

DAWN
No. Well, maybe a little.

BONNIE
That was for after, Dawn.

                                   PIPER
                         That was for after? Bonnie, you
                         are supposed to be the mature one.
                         The one keeping us healthy and into
                         the music.

                                   BONNIE
                         Let Dawn sing your song. If
                         nothing else, it will help keep her
                         awake.

                                   JOOLES
                         In her state Piper’s words will
                         come out slurred like sewage.

                                   DAWN
                         Those words will sound better
                         slurred.

PIPER
Fuck you, Dawn.

                                   DAWN
                         Hey man, I’m on your side. Jooles,
                         it’s in the contract. You know you
                         got to do one of my songs too.

JOOLES
You’ve never written a song.

DAWN
Yeah, well, when I do.

                                   BONNIE
                         We wrote a song together, Dawn,
                         remember. You have to remember.

                                   DAWN
                         Of course. Yeah, of course.   Like
                         what was it again?

                                   BONNIE
                         In fact, we wrote three songs.
                         Last month in Cleveland.

PIPER
You guys wrote three songs?

                                   JOOLES
                         You can’t be writing songs without
                         my knowledge.

                                   BONNIE
                         You know I am getting tired of
                         being treated like shit, Jooles. I
                         am the manager. Can we not forget
                         this crucial fact.

                                   JOOLES
                         And what do you manage, Bonnie,
                         except for Dawn’s drug therapy,
                         keeping her stoned like she is your
                         little plaything.

BONNIE
She’s not my plaything.

DAWN
Yeah. I am not a plaything.

                                   PIPER
                         This is not fun anymore. We all
                         came together for the music. The
                         music. Can you guys remember that?

                                   JOOLES
                         This stupid silly band is merely an
                         excuse for launching my career. We
                         came together for that Piper.

PIPER
You are such an asshole, Jooles.

                                   BONNIE
                         Yeah, Jooles, try going out there
                         all by yourself. Go on. Try it.
                         See if you can make music with Dawn
                         and Piper.

                                   JOOLES
                         I will. I am going to go out
                         without you jerks. All by myself.

                                   BONNIE
                         Yeah, but did you see the signs?
                         The signs that the fans are
                         holding. “We love you Dawn.” “We love
                         drum stick Piper.” I did not see
                         one sign saying they love you,
                         Jooles. Not one. Try to handle
                         the crowd without them. Go on,
                         try. The fans love Dawn and Piper.
                         They love them.

                                   JOOLES
                         I’m the lead singer. I play lead
                         guitar. I am the voice and face of
                         this group. You are not suggesting
                         I stop being the face of the group?

                                   PIPER
                         My face is like totally superior to
                         yours. Your face is so normal.

                                   JOOLES
                         Normal? This? This face is
                         normal?

                                   PIPER
                         Why was Dawn’s face on the cover of
                         Spin Magazine and not yours, huh?
                         Because Dawn’s face is not normal.

DAWN
My face is not normal?

                                  PIPER
                         I should have been on that cover,
                         you know.

DAWN
You weren’t at the shoot.

PIPER
Yeah, but if I was.

                                   JOOLES
                         I wasn’t at the shoot either. So
                         the cover thing means nothing.

                                   BONNIE
                         The cover thing meant a lot. I got
                         a call for Dawn to be interviewed
                         on VH1.

JOOLES
What? Dawn the drug addict?

BONNIE
They think she’s quirky.

                                  DAWN
                         Yeah, they think I’m quirky. So
                         there.

                                   JOOLES
                         This is like really bad, Bonnie. I
                         am the lead. I am the lead. I
                         should be interviewed.

                                   PIPER
                         What about me? Did they ask for
                         me?

BONNIE
No. They didn’t mention you.

PIPER
But I’m the skinny drummer. Skinny as

                         a drumstick. It was your
                         marketing thing, remember. What
                         happened to that?

BONNIE
Anorexia is out, Piper.

                                   JOOLES
                         This is not about marketing. This
                         is about who is the leader, the
                         voice, the brains behind this band.

                                   PIPER
                         Brains. You think you’re the
                         brains? I taught you timing. I
                         taught you scales. I taught you
                         music theory. I made you, Jooles.

                                   JOOLES
                         Nobody will believe the
                         drummer knows anything about music
                         theory.

PIPER
I have a degree. From a college.

                                  DAWN
                         Yeah, but I’m getting the magazine
                         covers and the VH1 interviews.
                         It’s me…it’s me…actually, it’s me
                         who don’t feel so good.

At this point, Dawn falls over and is out. Piper rushes to
her.

Dawn
Dawn? Dawn. Snap out of it.

Dawn moans.

                                   PIPER
                         Someone get her some water. Shit.
                         What are we going to do?

Jooles grabs Bonnie and pulls her close. They speak in a loud whisper.

JOOLES

What the fuck is going on? You

are losing control of Dawn. And without

Dawn we are fucked.

BONNIE

She faints. Now and then. I’ll give her

a few poppers. She’ll snap out of it.

JOOLES

I hate this.

BONNIE

                           Don’t worry about it, Jooles.
                          Dawn has no clue she is the
                           musical heart of the group.
                           She has no idea she really wrote all
                          those number one hits.

                                    JOOLES
                    And so what are you doing telling her about the songs
                     you two wrote. You trying to job her memory?

                                       BONNIE
                      Look, Dawn has some
                      psychiatric illness. But for Piper,
                      it’s not a worry.

                                      JOOLES
                       Piper is catching on you know.
                        She’s becoming a problem.

                                   PIPER
                         I actually can’t do the drums
                         without Dawn. You know, I follow
                         her lead. Dawn sets the rhythm.
                         Dawn sets the rhythm. I can’t do
                         this without her.

Jooles tosses water from her water bottle onto Dawn.

PIPER
Hey.

Dawn opens her eyes.

DAWN
Whoa. Wow. Jeez. Is everyone OK?

Piper helps her up.

                                  JOOLES
                         Get her feeling better. We have to
                         go on. We all have to go on.

PIPER
Dawn, don’t do that again.

DAWN
Do what?

PIPER
That fainting thing.

DAWN
Is that what I did?

JOOLES
I’ll sing it.

PIPER
What?

                                   JOOLES
                         I’ll sing your song. The Rolex
                         song. I’ll sing it.

                                   PIPER
                         Yeah. Well. Great. Thanks. OK.
                         So the words are not great.
                         But you can do something with them.
                         You know, Jooles. You turn them
                         into gold.

JOOLES
Yeah. Sure.

DAWN
Hey, I feel better.

BONNIE
She’ll be able to play.

Bonnie goes to Dawn who seems a bit wobbly.

                                   JOOLES
                         By the way, Bonnie, tell Harley Davidson to go fuck
                         themselves. We are
                         the Harleys.

                                   PIPER
                         I don’t care about names. For me,
                         it’s about the music.

                                   DAWN
                         Yeah, Piper Diaper, it’s about the
                         music.

                                   PIPER
                         Stop calling me that. It’s not
                         funny.

DAWN
Sorry. It just makes me laugh.

JOOLES
Piper’s right. It’s not funny.

PIPER
Thanks, Jooles.

Piper walks out with her drum sticks.

                                   JOOLES
                         You get Dawn all ready. OK,
                         Bonnie.

BONNIE
Yeah. Sure.

Jooles walks out with her guitar in hand.

BONNIE
You OK?

DAWN
Yeah.

BONNIE
Can you play?

DAWN
Yeah. Can I have another hit?

                                   BONNIE
                         I’ll give you some pops to get
                         you through the concert.

DAWN
Yeah. Uppers.

BONNIE
Let’s go.

DAWN
The Harleys, Bonnie.

BONNIE
Yeah, Dawn. The Harleys.

               Bonnie walks her out, propping her up. The CAMERA pans down
               to show Dawn’s bass guitar sitting on the floor. Suddenly a
               hand comes in and grabs it. It is Dawn. She plucks a
               string.

                                   DAWN
                             (to herself)
                         It’s out of tune. Oh, yeah.
                         I know that. I know that. I’m OK.
                         I’m OK.

Dawn rises and runs out of the room.

THE END.