Pimp My TV: Dave Stinton's entry

(CAPTION: Los Angeles, CA. 1988.)

(The Hollywood Sign is viewed from the sky on a bright, hazy Los Angeles afternoon. We hear a solo trumpet playing a soothing light jazz riff.)

NARRATOR
Tinsel Town. We’ve seen the glitter. We’ve seen the glamour. But who can bear to look upon what’s behind it?

(The view spins 180 degrees and zooms in, and we are at ground level behind the Hollywood sign. Graffiti and garbage abound. But we become aware of the source of the music: a dapper man in a white linen suit playing the trumpet. He finishes his solo and gazes out on the landscape below.)

(An URCHIN’s voice startles him.)

URCHIN
Man, you’re just like Gabriel!

(The MAN looks down at the URCHIN and grins a pearly, crooked grin.)

MAN
Almost.

(BLACKOUT)

NARRATOR
While all eyes are on the stars…

(The darkness is pierced by several bright lights aimed directly at the camera.)

NARRATOR
…only the most hardened journalists can truly see them.

(Television cameras swivel into place. We are on a soundstage. The MAN sits at a news desk next to a WOMAN. Behind them is a backdrop of Los Angeles at night. A PRODUCER counts down the seconds and cues them.)

MAN
Good evening, I’m John Tesh.

WOMAN
And I’m Mary Hart. Paul Hogan takes a break from the set of “Crocodile Dundee II” to have a chat with us…

NARRATOR
When Hollywood’s most sacred institution is threatened…

(Cut to JOHN TESH on the phone in his coffee-cup strewn news office.)

JOHN TESH
Chevy Chase is planning to rig the Oscars?

(Cut to CHEVY CHASE standing forlorn, holding a bouquet of flowers in the rain. GLENN CLOSE walks away from him, having just rejected his romantic advances.)

NARRATOR
…only one news team can set things right before the credits roll.

(Cut to ROBIN LEACH at a payphone in a parking garage.)

ROBIN LEACH
John, this is bigger than you. It’s bigger than me. Stay out of it!

(Cut to the flash of a GUNSHOT in a darkened corporate office. CHEVY CHASE approaches the dying body of a man he just shot. He picks up the man’s briefcase, and we see the PriceWaterhouse logo emblazoned on it.)

CHEVY CHASE
(voiceover)
Glenn, listen to me. I’m hosting this year. You deserve that award for “Fatal Attraction.” And I can make it happen for you.

(Cut to a closeup of a horrified GLENN CLOSE.)

GLENN CLOSE
(whisper)
You’re insane.

(Cut to JOHN TESH hunched over his glass of Tab in a jazz club in between sets. His trumpet rests on the bar. MARY HART is seated next to him.)

JOHN TESH
I’m sorry, Mary. You just can’t fight something like this. Hollywood one, John Tesh zero.

MARY HART
I can’t even look at you.

(MARY HART gets up and leaves. JOHN TESH glares at his reflection in the mirror behind the bar.)

(Cut to the soundstage. JOHN TESH and MARY HART are on camera.)

MARY HART
(tears in her eyes)
Our top story tonight: my partner John Tesh is a filthy coward.

PRODUCER
What the hell is she doing?

(The monitors all cut to test patterns as MARY HART stands and storms away. JOHN TESH buries his face in his hands.)

(Pulse-pounding percussive music over a series of quick cuts:
Overhead shot of a traffic jam of limos.
Blood pooling in a handprint in front of Grauman’s Chinese Theatre.
CHEVY CHASE sliding down a giant Oscar statuette.
JOHN TESH kicking over a television camera.
CELEBRITIES on the red carpet grinning in a hail of flashbulbs.
JOHN TESH and MARY HART clinging to each other on a windy night.
A team of DANCERS rehearsing their Oscar number.
MARY HART brandishing a tarnished Oscar like a weapon.
CHEVY CHASE grappling with GLENN CLOSE in a darkened mansion.
CHER dropping her wrap to reveal a transparent silk net gown.)

(Music reaches a crescendo and stops suddenly. Cut to backstage at the Shrine Auditorium. CHEVY CHASE, tuxedo rumpled and bowtie askew, holds one arm around MARY HART’s neck. With his other hand, he aims a pistol at JOHN TESH.)

CHEVY CHASE
(quiet and furious, through clenched teeth.)
The envelope.
(he cocks the gun.)
Please.

(Ba-da Ba-da-da Baaaaah! The familiar theme music bursts forth as the “Entertainment Tonight” logo drifts across the screen. Below it, we see a lineup of the cast.)

NARRATOR
Josh Brolin as John Tesh.
Amy Adams as Mary Hart.
Casey Affleck as Chevy Chase.
Naomi Watts as Glenn Close.
And featuring Philip Seymour Hoffman as Robin Leach.
“Entertainment Tonight”: the Motion Picture.
To truly see the stars … wait till night falls.

Spelling Bee

(A spelling bee. A banner stretches over the stage reading “The Rolaids Regional Spelling Bee.” Below it, several kids with numbers on their chests sit in folding chairs. One kid, SUSIE, stands at the microphone, her face clenched in concentration. An AUDITOR sits at a nearby table, waiting to hear her speak.)

SUSIE
May I have the company of origin?

AUDITOR
It comes from The Olive Garden.

(pause)

SUSIE
May I hear it in a sentence?

AUDITOR
“The free breadsticks with my entrée were just one example of the Hospitaliano I have come to expect from The Olive Garden.”

SUSIE
Hospitaliano. H-O-S-P-I-T-A-L-I-A-N-O. Hospitaliano.

(PING! A bell rings, signifying that this is the correct answer. A smattering of applause. SUSIE sits down. TIMMY approaches the microphone.)

AUDITOR
Your word is, “Slickery.”

TIMMY
May I hear it in a sentence?

AUDITOR
“With cold and flu season upon us, my family’s comfort is more important than ever. That is why I rely on N’ice brand throat lozenges to make my family’s throats feel Slickery.”

BILLY
Slickery. S-L-I-C-K-E-R-Y.

(PING! A smattering of applause. TIMMY sits down. AMBER approaches the microphone.)

AUDITOR
Your word is, “Noid.”

AMBER
May I hear it in the form of a sentence?

AUDITOR
“The Noid has one nefarious desire: to make pizzas cold and unpalatable.”

(BILL PULLMAN enters and speaks directly to us.)

BILL PULLMAN
Is this the kind of world you want to live in? Hello, I’m Bill Pullman. And what you see behind me is part of a future that is all too possible. With plummeting funding for our nation’s schools, and corporate interests taking over every aspect of our lives, our children may soon no skills outside of mindless consuming. And that will allow the Chinese to come over here and crack us open like a walnut.
(He smiles.)
W-A-L-N-U-T. Walnut.

(BILL PAXTON enters and speaks directly to us.)

BILL PAXTON
A commercial telling you not to listen to commercials?
(Looks to BILL PULLMAN.)
Nice logic, spaz.
(Back to us.)
Do you want to live in a world of condescending, pedantic PSAs? Neither do I. I’m Bill Paxton, and I’m here on behalf of the Advertisers of America. Sure, you could stop paying attention to us. If you don’t mind the collapse of brand loyalty. If you don’t mind giving up your dreams of luxury and status. If you don’t mind Americans losing their standing as the best damn consumers in the world.

(BILL PULLMAN steps forth and claps BILL PAXTON on the shoulder.)

BILL PULLMAN
Advertising is the Castrol motor oil that keeps the world turning. The Scharffen Berger chocolate bar we dangle in front of the donkey of industry.

BILL PAXTON
If we maintain the strength of our desires, we needn’t worry about the weakness of the economy.

BILL PULLMAN
And together, we can crack the Chinese open like a delicious Emerald walnut.
(winks)
E-M-E-R-A-L-D.

(BLACKOUT. CAPTION: “Three Minutes Earlier.”)

(Lights come back up. BILLS PULLMAN and PAXTON are gone. JOHNNY stands at the microphone on stage.)

AUDITOR
Your word is, “Advertising.”

JOHNNY
May I have a definition?

AUDITOR
Advertising: the action of bringing something to the attention of the public, usually through paid announcements.

JOHNNY
May I hear it in the form of an unwieldy, self-reflexive piece of sketch comedy?

Reconciliation

(LUCAS and JOSH, mid-thirties, enter the Brant Street Café. They sit side-by-side at the counter.)

LUCAS
Wait till you try the chicken noodle soup here. It’s the best I have ever tasted.

JOSH
I think I’m going to have a grilled cheese.

LUCAS
I’ll tell you what, man: you go your way, I’ll go mine.

(pause)

JOSH
You seem agitated.

LUCAS
I’m not judging you. There comes a time in everyone’s life when they decide what kind of person they are. I don’t claim to understand your choice, nor will I judge you for it.

(pause)

JOSH
Thank you.

LUCAS
I don’t know what series of events led to your choice of a grilled cheese. I haven’t walked that road. All I know is what’s right for me, and it is the chicken noodle soup.

(pause)

JOSH
Should I get the chicken noodle soup?

LUCAS
Don’t patronize me.

JOSH
Listen, what is your problem?

LUCAS
I’m thirty-five years old. I was in the shower this morning, staring at the tiles, and it hit me: I am never going to publish that novel. I am never going to present my parents with a grandchild. I am never going to make partner. Every day that goes by is another staple stamped into my life, and it’s becoming clearer and clearer the shape of who I really am.

JOSH (mildly alarmed)
Whoa. Whoa. What the hell?

LUCAS
No, listen. I’ve reconciled myself to it. I’m not the guy who’s going to live passionately about any of those things I thought I’d live passionately about. But I’ll tell you what’s still in my power: the chicken noodle soup at the Brant Street Café. I’ve had it everywhere in the city, and I am prepared to state unequivocally that it is best here. I am an expert on nothing else. But I have this.

JOSH
Okay. Okay. Take it easy.

(A WAITRESS enters.)

WAITRESS
What can I get for you guys?

JOSH
I’ll have a grilled cheese.

WAITRESS
All righty. And you?

LUCAS (looking clearly and directly into her eyes)
The chicken noodle soup.

WAITRESS
I’m sorry, guy – we’re just out. I can get you a cream of mushroom?

(pause)

LUCAS (bravely)
Yes. Okay.

WAITRESS
It’ll be right out.

(WAITRESS exits.)

(pause)

JOSH
I thought you hated mushrooms.

LUCAS
Don’t try to pen me in, man!

JOSH
All right.

LUCAS
I am going to eat the hell out of that cream of mushroom soup. Try to stop me!

JOSH
I won’t.

LUCAS
I’ll tear your arm off.

(pause)

(The WAITRESS crosses again, and JOSH flags her down.)

JOSH
Miss? I think I’d also like a bowl of cream of mushroom, if that’s all right.

WAITRESS
Sure thing!

(The WAITRESS exits. LUCAS and JOSH sit in silence.)

Doctor Dennis Peterman

(The Annual Mad Scientist Convention. DOCTOR ATROCITY is standing at a podium. He is accompanied by a drooling alligator/human hybrid in chains, who glares at the assembled audience of mad scientists. DOCTOR ATROCITY reads off note cards.)

DOCTOR ATROCITY
Therefore, you collective of sniveling puppets! Heed well my coming vengeance! Courtesy of my army of leidyosuccubi, you will soon unleash anguished cries you had no idea you were capable of!
(He flips to the next note card.)
The fortunate among you shall die quickly. And make no mistake – none of you shall die quickly! Thank you.

(The assembled SCIENTISTS applaud heartily as DOCTOR ATROCITY leads his creature offstage. DOCTOR GERYON, MPhD enters.)

DOCTOR GERYON
Thank you, Doctor Atrocity. And now the final speaker at the 178th Annual Mad Scientist Convention, Doctor Dennis Peterman.

(DENNIS takes the stage to a smattering of unenthusiastic applause. He carries an easel with a tablecloth draped over it.)

DENNIS
Thank you. It’s good to see so many familiar faces. Um. Hold on.
(He sets up the easel and adjusts the height of the microphone.)
Sorry. Okay. Ahem. In this era of so-called “convenience” meals, when everyone is “on-the-go,” what we need is a utensil that combines the cradling powers of a spoon with the piercing powers of a fork. Gentlemen, I present to you the most recent diabolical abomination from the labs of Doctor Dennis Peterman, the Spork!

(With a flourish, DENNIS pulls the tablecloth off the easel, revealing a highly technical blueprint of a spork. DENNIS gazes triumphantly at his audience. The audience is silent. Pause. Eventually, various SCIENTISTS begin speaking from the crowd.)

DOCTOR MALEFICARUM
Can it be used as a weapon?

(DENNIS is taken aback by the question for a moment.)

DENNIS
If you mean a weapon against inconvenience and waste, then definitely! Ha, ha!
(Silence.)
I suppose, if it were made out of metal. By and large, I envision them being made out of plastic. But even so, I believe a more conventional fork would probably serve your purposes better.

DOKTOR KOBOLD
What if it were made out of Asarium?

DENNIS
I’m sorry, “Asarium”?

DOKTOR KOBOLD
The radioactive mineral. It melts people from the inside. I introduced it at last year’s convention, and you all laughed!

DOCTOR RANTOUL
Oh for Pete’s sake, Doktor Kobold, enough with the Asarium.

DOKTOR KOBOLD
You shall pay for your impertinence!

DENNIS
Gentlemen, please. It’s really only designed for eating. In field tests, it has proved very useful. And that’s that. Thank you.

(A brief smattering of applause as DENNIS gathers his things and exits.)

(CUT TO: an office. DOCTOR GERYON sits behind a desk, talking to DENNIS.)

DOCTOR GERYON
I suppose I’m wondering if you really feel you fit in here, Dennis.

DENNIS
Certainly! I mean, I’ll never be the most popular person in the Guild, but I feel I play my part.

DOCTOR GERYON
It’s just that you don’t seem to exhibit the myopia, the megalomania, the idée fixe that are part and parcel of the mad scientist credo. You’re not angry at the world.

DENNIS
Oh.
(pause)
I thought it was “mad” like “crazy.”

DOCTOR GERYON
Well, no, it is. But besides that, you need to have some kind of grudge against society. Do you have any past slight, real or imagined, that you might fetishize?

DENNIS
No. Well. I hate waiting in line for things. Like, real long lines at the post office.

(DOCTOR GERYON grimaces and sighs.)

DOCTOR GERYON
I’ll give you an example: Doctor Rantoul. Let’s face it, he’s not half the scientist you are. But the guy is relentlessly fixated on the time twenty years ago when a handsome museum curator spilled coffee on a Beelzebufo ampinga fossil he was preparing for a diorama. He has spent the last two decades trying to create an army of carnivorous toads. He has not come close to succeeding, but his obsession carries a lot of weight here.

DENNIS
I don’t have anything like that, no.

DOCTOR GERYON
Do you have a slavish sidekick?

DENNIS
Well, there’s Jeanette.

DOCTOR GERYON
Okay, let’s talk about Jeanette.

DENNIS
She’s a grad student. She’s very competent.

DOCTOR GERYON
But is she a vile wretch, willing to unquestioningly carry out your most dangerous and thankless tasks?

DENNIS
Well no. In fact, I’m going to lose her in the fall; she just got hired at M.I.T.

DOCTOR GERYON
I see.
(He absently takes a marble-sized pellet out of the pocket of his lab coat. He rolls it around in his hand during the following.)
I’m going to suggest that you take a little break. Get some distance from the Guild and clear your mind. Ask yourself if you are willing to take on the extra fury to pursue a career in the mad sciences or if a more conventional route might be more rewarding to you. Okay?

DENNIS
Am I being kicked out?

DOCTOR GERYON
Dennis. When we kick people out of the Guild, they know it. I’m suggesting a hiatus.

DENNIS (glumly)
Okay.

(DOCTOR GERYON stands and offers his hand. DENNIS shakes it.)

DOCTOR GERYON
Thank you for your work. And perhaps I’ll hear from you again in a year?

DENNIS
All right. So long, then.

(DOCTOR GERYON casually flips the pellet to the floor, and it explodes in a burst of smoke. When it clears, he has vanished. DENNIS sits, dejected, for several moments. The door opens and DOCTOR GERYON pokes his head back into the room.)

DOCTOR GERYON
It’s nothing personal, Dennis. I want to stress that. Maybe one day you will snap.

DENNIS
Thank you.

DOCTOR GERYON
Farewell.

(DOCTOR GERYON drops another smoke pellet and vanishes again.)

DENNIS (softly, to himself)
I’ll show them. I’ll show them all.
(He dials his cell phone.)
Hello, Jeanette? It’s Dennis. Oh, it went… Well, it went terribly, if you must know. That is why I have an assignment for you. I would like you to come to the Hyatt and let the air out of every car in the parking lot… No, I’m not kidding. They’ll pay. Every last one of them… I suppose you’re right. Okay. I’ll sleep on it… Thank you, Jeanette. You’re the best.

(DENNIS hangs up and slouches in his chair.)

Best Friends

(A hospital room. GLEN and ADAM, mid-thirties, are in neighboring beds. They are wearing hospital gowns. GLEN is awake, reading a magazine. ADAM is asleep. After a few moments, ADAM wakes up and groans.)

GLEN
Well good morning!

ADAM (groggy)
Glen. Hey.

GLEN
The operation was a success.

ADAM
Oh, that’s great. How are you feeling?

GLEN
Great! How are you doing?

(pause)

ADAM
I’m really out of it.

GLEN
That sounds about right.
(pause)
Hey, Adam, I know I can never convey to you how much I appreciate this –

ADAM
Oh, no, seriously. There’s no need to mention it.

GLEN
Well, no, I think there is. You gave me a kidney. That’s huge.

ADAM
I was a match. What kind of friend would I be if I said no?

GLEN
No, Adam. It was above and beyond.

(pause)

ADAM
Well, you’re welcome.

(A moment passes. The two men have been rendered bashful by the level of warmth and intimacy. Finally, simultaneously, they reach between the beds and do a manly fist-bump.)

GLEN
Awesome.

ADAM
You’re looking really well.

GLEN
Yeah! I feel great.

ADAM
When will they know if your body accepts the kidney?

GLEN
I guess a kidney from a live donor starts working pretty much immediately, and it gets fully functional in three to five days. So, I guess three to five days after I have it implanted.

(pause)

ADAM
Sorry?

GLEN
Once they put the kidney in me, three to five days later it should be fully functioning, if all goes well.

ADAM
They didn’t put it in you yet?

GLEN
No, I thought it would be best to wait until I need it.

(pause)

ADAM
When will you need it?

GLEN
Who knows? But I feel great knowing it’s there. I feel prepared. Again, thank you.

(GLEN picks up a jar from the floor and sets it on the bedside table. In it, a kidney is suspended in cloudy liquid.)

ADAM
I thought you needed it right away!

GLEN
No!
(GLEN knocks on wood.)

ADAM
You son of a bitch! I thought it was a matter of life or death! You’re just keeping it aside in case you need it someday?

GLEN
What the hell, man? If you offer me half of your Twix bar, you’re not going to be pissed off if I don’t eat it right away.

(pause)

ADAM
No.

GLEN
I mean, we’re friends! We’ve known each other for fourteen years! I’ve been lying here, bored out of my skull for hours, just so I could be here in person when you regained consciousness. And I fucking hate hospitals, dude.

(pause)

ADAM
Thank you.

GLEN
Look, you’re welcome. You don’t have to thank me. It’s the least I could do.
(pause)
I’m gonna go get a Twix bar. You want anything?

(pause)

ADAM
Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.

GLEN
Sure thing. And Adam. Don’t even think about going for your wallet. It’s on me.

(GLEN exits. ADAM lies in bed, silent. He glances over at the jar with the kidney in it. Idly, he reaches out and flicks it with his finger. He turns over and begins to drift back to sleep.)

Scenes I Predict Will Be in the Series Premiere of “Life on Mars”

(GRUFF 70s COP and DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP are chasing down a suspect on foot.)

GRUFF 70s COP (panting)
We won’t catch him unless we split up. You go down the alley, past the pet rock store. I’ll head toward the Naugahyde factory. We’ll meet at the payphone on Plaid Street and Paisley Way.

DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP
The what-phone?

GRUFF 70s COP
Payphone! You put a dime in it, you make a call!

DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP
Like a land-line?

GRUFF 70s COP
What the hell are you talking about, “land-line”?

DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP
I mean – whoops!

(DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP has suddenly fallen out of the shot. GRUFF 70s COP turns around.)

GRUFF 70s COP
What now?

DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP
My shoe flew off! These 70s loafers are useless to me! I need a pair of Reebok Pumps!

GRUFF 70s COP
What-bok whats?

DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP
You know, Reebok Pumps! The sneakers with the built-in air pump, for support, protection, and a custom fit!

GRUFF 70s COP
You’re dreamin’, rookie. There’s no such shoe!

DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP
What?? It’s the greatest sports performance shoe in the world! They’ve been around since nineteen-eighty-nine, and ... Oh. Oh, no no no ...

(DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP buries his face in his hands and weeps.)

• • •

GRUFF 70s COP
If you don’t crack this case, kid, you’ll never be anything more than Agnew to my Nixon.

DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP
Don’t you mean Cheney to your Bush?

GRUFF 70s COP
No one is getting chained to a bush!

DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP
Wait a minute!
(He analyzes the evidence – a small, bloodstained square of shag carpeting – and is struck with an epiphany.)
I see it all now, clear as Crystal Pepsi!

GRUFF 70s COP
Clear as what?

DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP
Oh my lord I AM LIVING A NIGHTMARE!

(He tries to kick over a water cooler but misses, and his shoe flies off his foot, landing in GRUFF 70s COP’s coffee mug.)

• • •

(DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP is at a romantic dinner with SEXY 70s LADY COP.)

DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP
You know, Linda, I think I’m beginning to like it now. I mean, “like it here.” As long as you’re by my side, I can live through any era of our country’s history.

SEXY 70s LADY COP
That’s a very sweet and odd thing to say.

(A WAITER enters and serves them a cheese fondue tray.)

DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP
In fact, I have something to ask you.

(DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP plunges a fork into the melted cheese and pulls out a dripping object. With some difficulty, he uses a napkin to scrape the hot cheese away, eventually revealing a diamond ring. To cool it off, he pours a little Chablis on it.)

SEXY 70s LADY COP (tears welling up)
Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!

DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP (kneeling)
When I’m with you, Linda, I feel I can burst into song at any minute.
(He begins singing, softly and romantically.)
“I can see a new horizon,
Underneath the blazin' sky.
I'll be where the eagle’s_ flyin’,
Higher and higher...”

SEXY 70s LADY COP (grimacing slightly)
What are you ... Oh, my ...

DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP (singing)
“Gonna be your man in motion.
All I need is a pair of wheels.
Take me where my future's lyin’,
St. Elmo’s Fire...”

(SEXY 70s LADY COP is writhing on the floor, her hands pressed frantically over her ears.)

SEXY 70s LADY COP
Stop! Stop making that noise, you monster!

DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP (panicking)
What was I thinking? Your ears are not ready for this music! Not without experiencing everything that happens between now and 1985!

SEXY 70s LADY COP
Oh, the dissonance! What pit of hell spewed forth that crushing cacophony!

DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP
“Love Will Keep Us Together!” “Jessie’s Girl!” “Do That To Me One More Time!” So many steps you haven’t had the chance to take!

SEXY 70s LADY COP
If you think I’ll marry you, you’re dumber than a worry stone!

(DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP stands and runs out of the restaurant. One of his shoes falls off, but he doesn’t go back to pick it up, because all the other diners are calling for his head.)

(Except for one. A MYSTERIOUS WOMAN watches him leave, then picks up his discarded shoe. We hear her thoughts in voiceover.)

MYSTERIOUS WOMAN (voiceover)
Hmmm. There’s something about that man I find fascinating. I shall search the whole city until I find the gentleman who fits this shoe.

(The MYSTERIOUS WOMAN places the shoe into her handbag. When the camera pulls pack, we see that it is a promotional bag advertising “Lost” coming out on DVD! Season EIGHT!)

THE END...???

The Lemon-Scented Passing of Jack Kaufmann

(A funeral. The casket is upstage center, and black-clad MOURNERS are milling around. TIMMY, a boy of five, is downstage, shyly standing next to his mother, MARJORIE. EDWARD, holding a notepad, is kneeling and talking to TIMMY.)

EDDIE (to TIMMY)
A noun? It’s like a person, place or thing.

MARJORIE (to TIMMY)
What’s something you saw today, sweetheart? Just name anything.

(TIMMY whispers something to MARJORIE, who laughs.)

EDWARD
What did he say?

MARJORIE (to TIMMY)
Tell him what you said, sweetie.

(TIMMY whispers to EDWARD. EDWARD laughs and writes something in the notebook.)

EDWARD
That’s perfect. That’s perfect. Thank you, Timmy.

(The FUNERAL DIRECTOR approaches EDWARD.)

FUNERAL DIRECTOR
Any time you’re ready.

(EDWARD nods and makes his way to a podium by the casket. He clears his throat, and the MOURNERS take their seats and quiet down.)

EDWARD
The Eulogy.

Friends and family, well wishers and pomegranates, we are gathered today to mourn the lemon-scented passing of Jack Kaufmann.

Jack Kaufmann was a soggy soul, a man who was quick with a cheesy handshake and a kind Q-Tip. And he was always willing to lend a helping jack-o-lantern to someone in need.

Things weren’t always easy for Jack Kaufman. As one of sixty-nine children, he constantly had to pistol-whip for attention. But most would agree that this only made him hotter. In fact, he drew upon his experience just last year, when he finally fulfilled his dream of eating Mount Everest.

He is survived by his lovely wife Angelina Jolie, his son Rick Astley and daughter Miley Cyrus, and of course McNuggets, his faithful thirteen-lined ground squirrel. And most of us would argue that, at a mere one hundred billion years old, he was far too hoarse to die.

But today is not only a day for sadness, for we still have many ticklish memories of this drunken man. And Jack Kaufman himself would have wanted each and every one of us to seize the toilet.

(EDWARD steps down from the podium as the MOURNERS wipe away tears. Organ music.)

Whose Side Are You On?

(A recording studio. SCOTT stands alone, fretting. After a beat, THERESA enters.)

SCOTT
He still out there?

THERESA
Yeah.

(pause)

SCOTT
If he can’t go through with it, are you willing to do the voiceover?

THERESA
No! I have a horrible voice!

SCOTT
Don’t say that.

THERESA
It’s true! It’s worse than yours.

(pause)

SCOTT
Yeah, I guess it is.

THERESA
I could never sell something as radical as this. Hell, I could tell people the earth was round, and they’d second guess themselves and consult a globe.

(pause)

SCOTT
The jury’s still out on the earth being round, as far as I’m concerned.

THERESA
Not today. Please.

(ROB enters.)

SCOTT
What’s up?

ROB
I’m in.

THERESA
You sure? Because we can’t screw around on this stuff anymore, we only have the studio till 2:30.

ROB
Right. Let’s just plow through it. I just want it to be known that I don’t believe any of this crap.

SCOTT
You don’t have to.

(THERESA and SCOTT retreat to the recording equipment and ROB positions himself in front of the microphone. All three put on headphones.)

THERESA
Take it from “slurry walls.”

ROB (reading)
“The slurry walls, three-foot-thick walls of concrete buried deep underneath the World Trade Center, were designed to hold back the ocean and the Hudson River. But these walls were displaced, in some areas by up to eighteen inches. If the walls were strong enough to support the weight of the towers and the ocean for over twenty-five years, why would they be knocked out of alignment?” Gee, I don’t know. Maybe because two one-hundred-story buildings had just fallen down on top of them?

SCOTT
Cut!

ROB
I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I can’t get behind this because I don’t believe it.

THERESA
Hey, Rob, I see on your résumé that you played Nathan Detroit in “Guys and Dolls.” So, did you “believe” that you had to find a place for the big craps game?

ROB
The fact that I was in “Guys and Dolls” is not going to make people not want to work with me in the future!

THERESA
No, your unprofessionalism will do that nicely!

SCOTT
Please. Everyone just calm down. Rob, you’re very good. You have the steely timbre, the gravitas we need.

ROB (grudgingly)
Thank you.

SCOTT
There’s a reason we hired you for this. 9/11 was an inside job. The idea that a handful of guys with box cutters could do this is ridiculous, and everyone knows it.

ROB
Okay. I need to tell you something. Sometimes a conspiracy theorist will make a grand conspiracy statement, and he will follow it with the phrase, “and everyone knows it.”

SCOTT
Okay.

ROB
Those four words tag you as a crackpot. They carry the implication that when I claim to disagree with you, that means I must be “in on it.” Or that they’ve “gotten to me” and threatened my family or something.

SCOTT
All right.

ROB
And since I know that neither of those is the case, your entire theory crumbles. If there is no room in your worldview for me to disagree with you without being a coward, or a shadowy architect of clandestine machinations, then you are a crackpot, and you are to be ignored.

SCOTT
Noted. Are we doing this?

(SPYDER, owner of the recording studio, enters.)

SPYDER
Guys, I need you to wrap this up. I got a “My Little Pony” Christmas special coming in here at 2:30.

THERESA
Spyder, can they reschedule? We’re trying to open the eyes of the nation here.

SPYDER
No, man, I want them in and out of here ASAP. They’re unlicensed.

SCOTT
What do you mean?

SPYDER
It’s not an official “My Little Pony” video, it’s a knockoff they’re going to sell on the street.

(pause)

THERESA
Let’s just drop it.

SCOTT
Are you serious?

THERESA
Yeah. I guess the truth loses again. Give Rob his money and let’s go home.

SCOTT
Yeah, okay.

THERESA
I guess I’ll read the closing paragraph later. We can cobble together the rest

(SCOTT stares down ROB for a moment, then shakes his hand.)

SCOTT
You fucked us, Rob. But you took a stand. On some level, I have to respect that.

(ROB watches everyone pack up. He is about to take his water bottle and leave, but he stops himself. He swipes the script back from SCOTT.)

ROB
Roll the tape.

SCOTT
What are you doing, Rob?

ROB
Just roll it.
(They do. ROB is magnificent, heartfelt, as he recites from the script.)
“To review. George W. Bush was eager to create enough chaos to allow his half-brother Osama bin Laden to divert Afghanistan’s heroin trade through Putin’s Russia. So he asked the 107-year-old Dick Cheney to combine the Catholic Church’s weather machine with the water engine technology owned by Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac. Using it all in conjunction with a holographic sky-projector with possible origins in the blueprints from the ancient alien astronauts, they staged the most massive act of treason our country has seen.”
(pause)
“The President has said, you’re either with us or you’re with the terrorists. Open your eyes, America. They are one and the same.”
(pause)
“Whose side are you on?”

(pause)

THERESA (softly)
You nailed it.

ROB
Well.

THERESA
No, you fucking nailed it.

SCOTT
Rob. Thank you.

(SCOTT nods and makes his way out of the studio. SPYDER approaches THERESA.)

SPYDER
Hey, is that stuff true? About the water machine and the ancient astronauts?

THERESA
Every last word.

SPYDER
Could I get a copy of this video?

(ROB, hearing this, nods at THERESA and SCOTT. They nod back. ROB exits.)

Hot Rocks, Cold Bodies

(A morgue. Four bodies are covered with sheets. TONY PRATT, coroner, lifts one of the sheets and speaks into a handheld tape recorder.)

TONY
...and the renal and liver failure, along with the low sodium concentration in the plasma, makes for a textbook case of Legionnaires' disease. In younger victims, this would have been very treatable, but these subjects had elderly, oft-abused bodies, and this outbreak was simply the straw that broke the camel’s back.
(TONY walks to another of the sheets and lifts it.)
Keith Richards lasted the longest, but the severe bouts of vomiting finally drained his body of all hydration, leaving him a dried husk of a man.
(TONY drops the sheet and begins walking across the room.)
And if I may add a personal note, I am saddened by the fact that the band I grew up worshipping, the band I thought would never die, has been felled by something as random as a bacterial infection spread by the air conditioning system of their five-star hotel. Their end does not hold with the hard-living reputa- WHOOP
(TONY has slipped on something. He bends down and examines it.)
What the hell?
(He leans closer.)
That’s disgusting.

(BRENT HERNANDEZ, an assistant coroner, enters. He has tears in his eyes.)

BRENT
Tony, have you seen- WHOOP
(BRENT has slipped too. He looks around him on the floor.)
Oh no. It happened again.

TONY
What happened again?

BRENT
It’s the new intern, sir. She keeps wandering in here, and, well...

TONY
Well what?

BRENT
Have you seen her? She’s fucking hot.

TONY
Brent, if the two of you have been fornicating in the morgue, I’ll see to it that you never work in the industry again.

BRENT
No! Not at all! In fact, she’s a bit of a tease... It’s, uh, it’s why I’m crying.

TONY (indicating the floor)
Then where did this come from?

BRENT
It’s the bodies, sir. I think... I think it’s from the bodies. This happens every time the new intern comes in here.

TONY
Are you serious?

BRENT
She’s really fucking hot.

TONY
Be that as it may, the floor is covered in corpse ejaculate, and I am not going to clean it up. Send the intern in here with a mop.

BRENT
All due respect, sir, that would cause a bit of a vicious cycle.

TONY
Tell her to wear some dowdy clothing!

BRENT
I can’t. She’d take us to court in a sexual discrimination case.

And Now, The Punch Line.

(TONY looks to the camera and rolls his eyes.)

TONY
This is the worst musical predicament we’ve had here since Roberta Flack’s lover went on that soft-song killing spree!!!!!!!!!

The End.

All I Want is a Relaxing Dinner with Limp Bizkit

(A restaurant. A MAÎTRE D’ answers the phone. It’s FRED DURST.)

MAÎTRE D’
Good afternoon, Kyle’s on Seventh.

FRED
Yes, I’d like to make a reservation for tonight.

MAÎTRE D’
Certainly, sir. How many will be dining?

FRED
Four.

MAÎTRE D’
And your name please?

FRED
Durst.

MAÎTRE D’
“Durst”?

FRED
Yes.

MAÎTRE D’
I’m sorry, is that “Durst” or “Burst”?

FRED
Durst.

(The MAÎTRE D’ is about to write it down, but second-guesses himself.)

MAÎTRE D’
Sorry, is that “Durst” with a “D” or “Burst” with a “B”?

FRED
Durst with a D.

(The MAÎTRE D’ pauses.)

MAÎTRE D’
I’m sorry sir, is that “D” as in “duck,” or “B” as in “buck”?

FRED
“D” as in “duck.”

(The MAÎTRE D’ winces.)

MAÎTRE D’
I’m sorry. Is that “duck” as in “I went hunting and shot a duck,” or “buck” as in “I went hunting and shot a buck”?

FRED
“I went hunting and shot a duck.”

(The MAÎTRE D’ is about to write the name down, but stops himself.)

MAÎTRE D’
Um. Was that “I went hunting and shot a duck as it paddled in the pond,” or “I went hunting and shot a buck as it gamboled through the woods”?

DURST (irritable)
I went hunting and shot a duck as it paddled in the pond.

MAÎTRE D’
Thank you, Mr. Durst. Sorry about that.

FRED
It’s fine.

MAÎTRE D’
May I have your first name?

FRED
It’s Fred.

(The MAÎTRE D’ is about to write it down, but stops himself.)

MAÎTRE D’
I’m sorry, was that “Fred” or “Red”?

Action Movie One-Liners Don’t Work In Real Life

(Wesley Snipes talks on an airplane phone to hijacker and terrorist mastermind Charles Rane.)

In “Passenger 57”

SNIPES
You ever play roulette?

RANE
On occasion.

SNIPES
Well let me give you a word of advice: always bet on black.


In Real Life

SNIPES
You ever play roulette?

(pause)

RANE
Do I what?

SNIPES
Ever play roulette.

RANE
Why?

SNIPES
Just answer the question.

RANE
No, I don’t think I’ve ever played roulette.

SNIPES
Okay.

(pause)

RANE
Why do you ask?

SNIPES
No reason.

RANE
No, tell me why you asked me that!

SNIPES
It’s stupid.

RANE
What’s stupid?

SNIPES (sighs)
If you had said “yes,” I was going to tell you to always bet on black.

RANE
Why would I do that? That’s not a good strategy at all.

SNIPES
Look, just drop it.

RANE
I mean, more than half of the pockets on a roulette wheel are not black. They’re just as likely to be red. What the hell are you talking about?

SNIPES
I’m black.

RANE
Sorry, you cut out for a second.

SNIPES
I’m black.

RANE
Oh.

(pause)

SNIPES
So, yeah.

RANE
So it was a joke?

SNIPES
Kind of.

(pause)

RANE
We’re on the phone, how would I know you were black?

SNIPES
Just drop it.

RANE
And what color do you think I am? Red?

SNIPES
Look, the point is, I’m going to need you to land the plane and let all the passengers go.

RANE
No!

(RANE hangs up)

Keith Olbermann Addresses the Guy Who Sat Behind Him at the Movie Theatre

Finally, as promised, a special comment for the guy sitting behind me at the 9:15 showing of “Iron Man” last night.

I don’t assume for a moment that you are familiar with Ralph Waldo Emerson, sir, but there may be something for you to learn in his aphorism, “Life is not so short but that there is always time enough for courtesy.”

Because last night, before the movie even started, you abandoned courtesy with a swiftness bordering on psychotic.

You saw fit, during the preview of “The Love Guru,” to voice the vulgar acts you would like to perpetrate on Jessica Alba. Your taste in female pulchritude notwithstanding, you’d do well to keep those comments to yourself. The imaginary exploits that were so intriguing to you held no such fascination for those of us within earshot of you, a group which, if I am not mistaken, included everyone in the theatre.

Not content with that act of inconsideration, you took it upon yourself to begin nudging my seat.

I am no Pollyanna; I know that a certain amount of jostling is to be expected even in a crowd of the most careful and considerate people. But it became clear that this shifting was not brought about by the act of innocently settling into your seat, but was rather the result of you propping your feet on the back of the empty chair to my left.

I glanced back at you, hoping to remind you with my eyes that you were in fact not in your living room with a coffee table in front of you, but rather at a public venue filled with strangers who had paid for the privilege, not of listening to your witticisms, but of watching “Iron Man.”

You gaped back at me with your uncomprehending eyes and finally asked, quoting here, “What is your problem?”

(TITLE SCREEN: “What is your problem?” – The Guy Sitting Behind Me At The Movie Theatre)

What is my problem? What is my problem, sir?

That you would exhibit such blockheadedness that you wouldn’t know and/or care that your actions detracted from my experience. That you would be so brazen in your entitlement as to be immune to censure and embarrassment. That you would wait until the movie started before slowly and noisily unwrapping the cellophane on your box of Dots. That is my problem.

When at last I stood up to leave that aisle and find another seat, suddenly you were aghast at my rudeness, snapping at me to sit down, and lambasting me for daring to block a portion of your view for three seconds’ worth of the film.

It is at this moment that you made the transition from ignoramus to traitor. In spite of your impressive list of crimes against every other moviegoer in attendance, you chose to play the injured party – a sensitive, upstanding soul in a world gone mad – at the slightest hint of inconvenience presented to you.

It is an upheaval of the social construct to expect the rest of us to conform to your gerrymandering standards of etiquette. That is my “problem.” That is the problem of every other paying audience member in that theatre. And at last, that is your problem, sir. For you have gotten this far in your life without the implications of that hypocrisy managing to creep their way into your skull.

Finally, I appeal to your self-interest, since you have demonstrated your incapability to experience the slightest trace of empathy. Someday, perhaps not today, perhaps not tomorrow, but surely some future day, you will find yourself seated in front of a fellow audience member even more lowbred and oafish than you are.

Perhaps he will demonstrate his intellectual vacuity by repeating every one of the movie’s idiotic punch lines. Perhaps he will answer several calls on his cell phone throughout the film. Perhaps he will bring a squirming toddler to an R-rated picture, and you will bear the brunt of all the fussing and scolding.

Then you will realize too late which side of this social conflict you are on.

Good night and good luck.

What Happens in Degas, Stays in Degas

(A WOMAN and MAN sit sullenly in a Paris café in 1876. The woman stares ahead drunkenly, a glass of absinthe on the table in front of her. The man smokes a pipe and stares offstage. They sit next to each other but don’t acknowledge each other. They are silent for several moments.)

(Enter MARK and CAROLYN, two modern-day American tourists in their fifties. They wear Hawaiian shirts and carry maps and a digital camera. CAROLYN nudges MARK and points, none-too-subtly, at the French couple. MARK nods and snaps a picture of them.)

(MARK and CAROLYN sit down next to the couple. MARK flags down a WAITER, who squints at them quizzically.)

MARK
Deux absinthe, merci.

(The WAITER contemplates them, bewildered, for a beat, then turns and exits.)

CAROLYN
Well, I thought that ballet was simply charming.

MARK (reading a guidebook)
Yes.

(CAROLYN turns and speaks to the WOMAN.)

CAROLYN
Bon jour. We adore your ballet. We just came from there.

(The WOMAN turns her ghostly gaze on CAROLYN and blinks languidly a few times. Apparently unsure whether or not MARK and CAROLYN are hallucinations, she returns to contemplating the middle distance.)

MARK (to CAROLYN)
Now, don’t drink it until we’ve prepared it.

CAROLYN
Oh, will you get your nose out of that book? Relax!

MARK
We have to do the ritual. Do you want to experience this or not?

CAROLYN
We’ll be fine.

(The WAITER wheels a cart up to the table. He sets before MARK and CAROLYN two glasses of absinthe, a pitcher of water, a bowl of sugar cubes, and two flat metallic utensils.)

MARK
Merci.

(But the WAITER has already turned and begun wheeling the cart off.)

CAROLYN (delighted)
Well look at this!
(She notices something missing.)
Oop. We didn’t get spoons. Waiter!

MARK (holding up a flat utensil)
No, these are the spoons.

CAROLYN
How are you supposed to stir with those?

MARK
You don’t stir. Look.
(MARK performs these steps as he describes them.)
You set a spoon over the glass. Then you put a sugar cube on it.

(CAROLYN turns to the WOMAN and whispers mischievously.)

CAROLYN
This isn’t legal in our country. Or time.

MARK (continuing)
Then you pour water over the sugar cube and into the glass until it gets milky.

CAROLYN
Goodness!

MARK
You try.

(CAROLYN repeats the steps with her own glass.)

CAROLYN
Do we drink it now?

MARK
Let’s go for it!

(MARK and CAROLYN raise their glasses to each other, then to the MAN and WOMAN, who ignore them. MARK and CAROLYN sip.)

CAROLYN
Oh, my gosh. It tastes like… Oh, I can’t put my finger on it.

MARK
It’s bitter.

CAROLYN
Crows. It tastes like Crows.

MARK
What do you mean it tastes like crows?

CAROLYN
The movie candy. Crows. They’re like Dots, but they’re black, and they taste like black Jujyfruits.

MARK
Yeah. Licorice.

CAROLYN
Oh!

MARK
It’s supposed to taste like licorice.

CAROLYN
I didn’t know it was supposed to taste like black licorice. This whole time I was thinking red licorice.

MARK
Red licorice isn’t licorice.

CAROLYN
I thought it would be like a glass of strawberry liqueur. Like that Alizé strawberry liqueur?

MARK
Alizé isn’t strawberry, it’s passion fruit.

CAROLYN
Then what was the strawberry liqueur we had at that aquarium fundraiser? It was so fun!

MARK
Dolfi.

CAROLYN
Dolfi. I was thinking this whole time that we’d be drinking strawberry Dolfi liqueur.

MARK
Absinthe is green. Why would you expect a green drink to taste like strawberry?

CAROLYN (to MAN)
Excuse me.
(The MAN does not react.)
Excuse… Par-done mwah, monsieur.
(The MAN slowly turns to CAROLYN.)
I’m sorry, would you mind putting out your pipe?
(The MAN continues sucking disinterestedly on his pipe.)
We’re American. It’s just a little jarring.

(The MAN slowly turns away again.)

MARK (to CAROLYN)
Do you want to switch seats?

CAROLYN
No, I won’t give him the satisfaction.

MARK (whispering)
They’re French. They’re notoriously rude. Do not take it personally.

CAROLYN (a little louder than necessary)
Well they have no problem taking our money personally.

MARK
Shh. Switch places with me.

CAROLYN
Licorice isn’t green either.

MARK
Who said it was?

CAROLYN
I don’t think I like this. The bloom has just evaporated off the charm of the evening for me. I’d like to go back to the hotel.

(The WOMAN startles them by unleashing a long sigh of infinite sadness. MARK and CAROLYN look at her for several seconds, but she is unaware of their existence. The WAITER passes through again, and MARK flags him down.)

MARK
The bill? Um… L’addition, s’il vous plaît?

(MARK holds up a credit card. The WAITER makes no attempt to take it, staring back with a look of brazen, open-mouthed confusion.)

CAROLYN
They won’t have heard of credit cards, Mark.

MARK
Oh, dammit, you’re right.
(MARK takes a wad of paper money from his fanny pack.)
French francs? Do you take French francs?

(The WAITER blinks at them, then makes the vaguest cursory gesture excusing himself and exits.)

CAROLYN
Just leave some money on the table, and let’s go.

(CAROLYN gets up and leaves. MARK counts out a few bills and sets them on the table. He follows CAROLYN off. A beat. The MAN refills his pipe, relights it, and puffs deeply.)

Shadows on the Cave Wall

(RICK and STEVE in the front of a car. RICK is driving. STEVE is in the passenger’s seat.)

(RICK suddenly swerves, then honks his horn.)

RICK
Look at this jackass.

STEVE
What a moron.

RICK (yelling out window)
Jackass!
(pause)
Sometimes I think everyone except me is an idiot.

(pause)

STEVE
Am I an idiot?

RICK
Well, let’s approach this Socratically. Are you me?

STEVE
No.

RICK
Then I’m afraid you are an idiot. QED.

(pause)

STEVE
I’m not a fan of that conclusion.

RICK
Well, your problem is with Socrates, not with me.

(pause)

STEVE
No, you know my problem with Socrates? That cave allegory. That’s some bullshit right there.

RICK
You think bare language, in and of itself, is an adequate method to describe the depth and breadth of reality?

STEVE
Well, no. I just think it’s a shitty metaphor. It’s too baroque. Prisoners since birth in a cave who can’t move their heads and are therefore forced to watch shadow puppets cast by a fire above and behind them? Come on.

RICK
I see.

STEVE
If you have to go that far to prove a point, maybe you don’t have a point at all.

RICK
That was Plato.

STEVE
Bullshit. It was Socrates.

RICK
It was the character of Socrates in Plato’s Republic.

STEVE
Oh.

RICK
That’s essentially like saying you hate Toulouse-Lautrec because you don’t like the way he sang “Nature Boy” in “Moulin Rouge.”

(pause)

STEVE
Well, I don’t.

Las Vegas Itasca

(An architectural planning meeting in Vegas. WENTWORTH, BRAD, and GEORGE stand around a table. On the wall is a placard: Wentworth Casinos, Las Vegas, NV. Out the window is a view of the Strip.)

WENTWORTH
Who’s next?

BRAD
We’ve got Kirk Luberda. Bright young architecture student from the Midwest.

GEORGE (skeptically)
Ah. What do you think he’ll try to foist on us? Mies van der Rohe? Frank Lloyd Wright?

BRAD
I don’t know. I think it’s about time for a Chicago-themed hotel/casino. That would be a draw. People could stay in the miniature Sears Tower. You could make a restaurant in the shape of Wrigley Field.

GEORGE
Call it “Ivy’s”! Serve deep-dish pizza! Italian beef!

BRAD
And that big Picasso! He could be our spokesman! Like a robot-gangster-Picasso in a fedora that would stand at the door and welcome visitors!

GEORGE
And we could sell miniature brass reproductions of the Space Needle!

BRAD
That’s in Seattle.

WENTWORTH
Guys, guys. This is not our job. Let’s see what Mr. Luberda has to offer before we overthink this thing to death.

BRAD
Mr. Luberda? Come in please.

(LUBERDA enters, carrying a portfolio and a tarp-covered object, which he sets on the table.)

LUBERDA
Good afternoon, gentlemen.

WENTWORTH
Mr. Luberda. The theming of a casino is vitally important. It must be new and innovative, but classic in its execution. How well a theme taps into the zeitgeist can determine whether a casino lasts a mere year, or sticks around for a full three years.

BRAD
The point is, when the building is imploded, can we look back and say, that was a gimmick we’re proud of? Or will it be another “Bridget Jones’s Pai Gow Palace”?

(WENTWORTH, BRAD and GEORGE shudder.)

LUBERDA
I think you’ll be tickled with what I’ve come up with. As you can imagine, there’s a soft spot in my heart for the Midwest.

BRAD
I knew it!

GEORGE
Will you have a Space Needle?

WENTWORTH
Gentlemen, please. Go on.

LUBERDA
Well. Maybe it’s best for me to just show you.
(He lifts the tarp, revealing a miniature suburban town.)
I give you: Las Vegas Itasca!

(pause)

GEORGE
What does “Itasca” mean?

LUBERDA
It’s my hometown. It’s a suburb of Chicago. That’s in Illinois.

(They all look over the model.)

BRAD
What’s this structure here?

LUBERDA
It’s the gazebo.
(Pause. The other THREE look blankly back at him.)
In Usher Park!

WENTWORTH
Will people know what that is?

LUBERDA
They’ll know it’s where they cash in their chips. Beautiful, functional, and full of swans, just like the real Usher Park.

BRAD
(points to a tiny human figure on the model)
This woman here on the stage. She looks like Bonnie Raitt.

LUBERDA
She is. A professional Bonnie Raitt impersonator will perform nightly.

BRAD
Why is she wearing handcuffs?

LUBERDA
Do you guys not read the news? She was arrested in Itasca in 2001 for protesting Boise Cascade’s deforestation practices.

WENTWORTH
I don’t know, Mr. Luberda. This all seems kind of esoteric.

LUBERDA
Is candy too esoteric for you?

(LUBERDA presses a button and the roof of the miniature Bethany United Methodist Church opens, shooting out colorful boxes of Nerds, Gobstoppers, and Lik-M-Aid.)

GEORGE
(gasping delightedly)
An assortment of Willy Wonka products!

LUBERDA
Their factory is located in Itasca, on Norwood Avenue.

GEORGE
Oh! Are all the cocktail waitresses dressed as Oompa-Loompas?

LUBERDA
You tell me.

(LUBERDA pulls a sketch out of his portfolio featuring an orange-skinned, green-haired cocktail waitress in short white overalls. She holds a tray with a complex, striped drinking vessel with an elaborate bendy-straw sticking out of it.)

WENTWORTH, BRAD, and GEORGE
Ooooh!

LUBERDA
And...

(LUBERDA turns the page to another drawing: a man wearing huge glasses and a beige windbreaker sits glumly at a blackjack table.)

BRAD
Is that John Cusack, as he appears in the movie Grace is Gone?

LUBERDA
(nodding)
...which filmed in Itasca.

GEORGE
That’s the one where his wife dies in Iraq!

LUBERDA
And all the dealers will be dressed like him.

WENTWORTH
I’ll tell you what, Mr. Luberda. I’m starting to take a shine to this idea. You’ve got the contract.

(They shake hands.)

LUBERDA
Thank you sir!

WENTWORTH
Thank you. Let’s break ground immediately and start building Las Vegas Itasca. And we’ll see how long it lasts before we have to raze it.

(A miniature rumbling. Tiny flashes of light appear along the bottom of the model. It descends into tiny puffs of smoke and dust, and it is gone.)

(LUBERDA shrugs comically. WENTWORTH, BRAD, and GEORGE laugh and point. Freeze-frame. Closing credits.)

Toodle-oo, Tuvalu

(An expanse of water, extending all the way to the horizon. Eventually, a ROWBOAT appears and drifts to center stage. DONALD, 50, is rowing. His son JASON, 18, is engrossed in a handheld holographic videogame. It is 2050.)

DONALD (looking around)
My gosh, this brings me back.
(turns upstage, looks into the distance)
Wow.
(he looks to JASON)
When I was your age, all this was land.

(JASON gives the surrounding water a cursory glance and goes back to his game)

JASON
Hm.

(pause. DONALD points to the middle distance.)

DONALD
You see out there? Jason, will you look?

(JASON puts his game on “pause,” exasperated. he looks where his dad is pointing.)

JASON
Sure.

DONALD
No, to the left a bit.

JASON
Okay.

DONALD
Directly below there, about fourteen feet, is the Rhenium Vapor Fountain where your mother and I used to play Intra-Continuum Space-Candyland.

JASON (creeped out)
Aw, Dad. C’mon.

DONALD (smiling)
What? We weren’t always old. We used to be a young dating couple, like you and Nicole.

JASON (blushing)
Uh, no. I don’t think you were ever like me and Nicole.

DONALD
Things getting serious between you two?

JASON (smiling)
I don’t know. Whatever.

DONALD
You ever tell her you’re a Tuvaluan?

JASON
No.

(pause. DONALD is visibly saddened.)

DONALD
Not even a word about it? How come?

JASON (shrugs)
It hasn’t really come up.

DONALD
It’s something to be proud of. Tuvalu took a look at the rising water levels and did something about it. They went into battle to save their homeland.

JASON
Yeah, I know. “They sued the U.S. and Australia to get them to cut down their CO2 emissions.”

DONALD
It’s an inspirational story.

JASON
No, “David and Goliath” is an inspirational story, because David won. How does our story end? Well, here’s our homeland. Oh, except for the “land” part.

(pause)

DONALD
It was a brave fight. And it was the right fight. The outcome doesn’t change that.

(pause)

JASON
I know, Dad. It’s just... It’s the past. It’s gone. I’m just focused on other things.

DONALD
Yep. Well. You’re not alone.

(the boat runs up against something and lurches slightly. DONALD reaches down over the side of the boat and finds a tiny point of land sticking up an inch out of the water. he holds it at arm’s length to push the boat away from it.)

JASON
Is that...?

DONALD
Put your hand there.
(DONALD takes JASON’s hand and holds it on top of the point of land.)
That’s the highest point on Tuvalu. That’s your soil. It doesn’t matter if you can’t see it anymore. It’s always yours.
(pause)
You feel that?

(pause)

JASON
Yeah.

DONALD
I used to have to reach up to put my hand on this point. You could sit here and watch the sun set into the South Pacific. You had a view of the whole nation stretching out in all directions, up to sixteen feet below you in some places.
(DONALD removes his hand. JASON keeps his in place.)
That’s yours.

(pause)

JASON
Yeah.

(DONALD looks around at the surrounding ocean while JASON continues to contemplate the land under his hand)

DONALD
I suppose the sunset must happen a few seconds sooner now than when I was a kid.
(he reaches to the floor of the boat and pulls up a plastic bottle of water. he unscrews the cap and takes a swig. he holds it out to JASON.)
You want to do the honors?

(JASON looks at his dad and takes the bottle. he holds it out over the tip of land and pours. the water level gradually rises until the land disappears beneath it. he hands the bottle back to DONALD, who screws the cap back on. DONALD rows the boat off stage, while JASON stares at the point where the land was.)

Bookworms

(A public library at night. JOYCE is a librarian, bespectacled, primly dressed, her hair in a bun. She is closing up for the night, saying “goodbye” to the final patrons and locking the door behind them. She turns off the overhead fluorescent lights and heads back to the counter. She stretches, exhausted.)

(Suddenly, she leaps up and sits on the counter. She flicks a switch and is awash with radiant spotlights. A raunchy, sexy drum loop begins. She removes her glasses and flings them away with abandon. She reaches behind her head and removes a pin, sensually shaking her long, luxurious hair around her shoulders. She launches into a rap.)

JOYCE
You’re waitin’ in the straight lines,
I’m dolin’ out the late fines.
I love a page-turner (so you’ve heard through the grape vines).
You sidle to the counter like you’re readin’ off the book spines.

Let’s see your card.

What’s on your mind?
You wanna be my lover?
The only date you’ll get from me is stamped inside the cover.
I got stacks of new releases, so ya better not hover.

Don’t try so hard.

Yeah, I’ve seen ya. Lurkin’ in the shelves,
Like a schoolboy giggling at Our Bodies, Ourselves.
You’re too overdue, which goes to confirm,
You ain’t quite man enough to handle this bookworm.

(JOYCE bumps and grinds while MYRTLE, another buttoned-up librarian, enters. MYRTLE flings off her glasses, undoes her hair, unbuttons the top button on her blouse and takes over.)

MYRTLE (pointing to the various aisles)
History and mystery,
Geography, biography,
Psychology, theology,
Feel like gettin’ knowledge-y?

JOYCE
Damn!

MYRTLE
Hell yeah, y’all ain’t gettin’ no apology!
Language is elastic, better check your etymology!

JOYCE
True dat!

MYRTLE
Rifle through my card catalog.
Yeah that’s right, I work it old school, analog.

It’s all right here, systematic and methodical.
The heaviest tome to the lightest periodical.
The infinite down to the infinitesimal.

JOYCE
You better get acquainted with the Dewey decimal.

MYRTLE
It’s all about the Melvils.

JOYCE
Gotta find it where I stack it.

JOYCE & MYRTLE
If you wanna peek inside my dust jacket.

MYRTLE
You think you belong in our philosophy section?

JOYCE
You’re a Norman Vincent Peale in a Chomsky collection.

MYRTLE
Now you’re layin’ down your learnin’?

JOYCE
Expectin’ me to squirm?

JOYCE & MYRTLE
You ain’t got the skills to impress this bookworm.

(JOYCE and MYRTLE dance ass-to-ass. LOUISE, a third librarian, glides in on a book cart. She leaps off, flings away her glasses, undoes her hair, and tears away her blouse, revealing a glittery bra.)

JOYCE & MYRTLE
Research!

LOUISE
That’s why there’s cards in here!

JOYCE & MYRTLE
Rare books!

LOUISE
That’s why there’s guards in here!

JOYCE & MYRTLE
Old bums!

LOUISE
That’s why it stinks in here!
Don’t bring no food or drinks in here!

You gotta lotta nerve, droppin’ off your son and daughter,
Then checkin’ out my ass while they check out Harry Potter.
Hell, look all you want, but try not to pout.
I’m a reference librarian, so you can’t take me out.

You can access all these books for free
But not my Gray’s Anatomy.
Don’t know a dirty word? Just come to me.
I’ll point you to the OED.
Ya down with OED?

JOYCE & MYRTLE
Yeah, you know me!

LOUISE
Ya down with OED?

JOYCE & MYRTLE
Yeah, you know me!

LOUISE
Ya down with OED?

JOYCE & MYRTLE
Yeah, you know me!

LOUISE
Who’s down with OED?

JOYCE & MYRTLE
This li-brar-y!

(Enter FRAN, an older, more dignified librarian. She is disgusted.)

FRAN
Hey!
(The music stops cold, and JOYCE, MYRTLE and LOUISE stop dancing.)
What the hell is going on in here?
(The other LIBRARIANS look sheepishly to the floor.)
You gotta hike up them skirts, lay-deeees!

(FRAN rolls her skirt up at the waist, revealing her ankles. The other LIBRARIANS cheer, and the music starts up again.)

JOYCE, MYRTLE & LOUISE
Awwww, yeah!!!!

FRAN
All other librarians,
Take our advice
And keep real quiet!

JOYCE, MYRTLE & LOUISE
Shush it good!

FRAN
’Cause if you step to us,
There’s gonna be a riot!

JOYCE, MYRTLE & LOUISE
Shush it real good!

JOYCE
All you other book-bitches? I don’t mean to slander ya!

MYRTLE
But we run the tightest since the one at Alexandria!

LOUISE
But if you insist, and you want a brawl…

FRAN
We’ll take it fist-to-fist, like Mailer and Vidal!

ALL
Just keep your head low and agree to our terms.

FRAN
There’s no way in hell you can beat these bookworms.

(ALL cross their arms in front of their chests.)

ALL
Words.

Fuck Leonardo DiCaprio

(JUSTIN and CRAIG, two twentysomethings, are sitting on a couch in their shared apartment. JUSTIN is reading a People magazine, and CRAIG is operating a video game controller.)

JUSTIN (looking up from his magazine)
Fuck Leonardo DiCaprio.

CRAIG
What?

JUSTIN
Oh, it’s just... he’s “romantically linked with Israeli supermodel Bar Refaeli.”

CRAIG
There are Israeli supermodels?

JUSTIN
And before that it was Gisele Bündchen, and who knows who else. The guy goes through beautiful women like Kleenex. I’m so jealous.

CRAIG
Eh. I used to be.

JUSTIN
Before you became gay?

CRAIG
No. The way I see it, someone is having sex with supermodels. Score one for us.

JUSTIN
Who’s “us”?

CRAIG
Men. Somewhere out there, there’s a man having sex with models. Yay men.

JUSTIN
Yeah, I don’t feel any luckier.

CRAIG
The real tragedy would be if these women were wandering around with nobody to throw them to the ground and do them in the soft grass. Would you want to live in a world like that?

(pause)

JUSTIN
No.

CRAIG
Leonardo DiCaprio was available, and qualified, and he stepped up. Try saying this. What’s this model’s name?

JUSTIN
Bar Refaeli.

CRAIG
Say, “Leonardo DiCaprio and I are fucking Bar Refaeli.”

JUSTIN
“Leonardo DiCaprio and I are fucking Bar Refaeli.”

CRAIG
Congratulations, dude. She sounds hot.

(pause)

JUSTIN
We don’t have any Oscars though.

CRAIG
No, but you and Jack Nicholson have a shitload.

JUSTIN
Hey, yeah.

CRAIG
And... (he throws down the video game controller) Leonardo DiCaprio and I just beat your high score in “Centipede.”

JUSTIN
Fuck both of you.

I'm Lucky To Have Met Nathaniel

(JULIA and ALEX sit at a table in a coffee shop. JULIA is holding ALEX’s hand.)

JULIA
You know what? I want you to know that you’ve meant a lot to me during the time we’ve spent together, and that whatever our differences, and whatever needs we’re no longer able to fill for each other, you’ll always remain a part of me. I’m lucky to have met you, just like I’m lucky to have met Nathaniel. And he’s right for me at this point in my life. And I hope you find someone who’s right for you. And I know you will. I know you’ll find someone who can fully appreciate all you have to offer, and she’ll be a very lucky girl.

ALEX
Wow. Thank you, very much. I really needed to hear that. And as for you, I hope your relationship with Nathaniel fails miserably, and that you make each other very unhappy. And I don’t just mean for the week or so after you eventually break up; I want you to be deeply scarred by this relationship you’re about to embark on, to the point where you’ll never again come close to knowing true love. And I want you to turn to drink for solace, and to sink slowly into despair and alcoholism. And eventually, I’d like for you to run over some kids in a drunk driving accident, and for this to eat you up with grief until you finally take your life in a grisly and public suicide.

The Wine Tasting

(A wine SALES REP stands behind a table, impassive, bored. On the table are several different bottles of wine. Enter a young WOMAN carrying a plastic wineglass. The SALES REP slips into sales mode.)

SALES REP
Good evening.

WOMAN
Good evening! What do you have here?

SALES REP
These are the wines of Chile and Argentina.

WOMAN
Oh, that sounds lovely. Where should I start?

SALES REP
I would start with the Carmenere, and work your way down the line.

WOMAN
All right!

(She holds out her glass, and the SALES REP pours. Enter young MAN from the opposite side of the stage with a plastic wineglass.)

MAN
Hello.

SALES REP
Good evening. We’re doing Chile and Argentina.

MAN
Sounds great!

(The SALES REP pours him a slug too. The MAN and WOMAN sip.)

WOMAN
Oh. That’s nice.

MAN
Yes. Very nice.

(pause)

SALES REP
You should be getting some blackberry.

(MAN and WOMAN nod)

MAN
Definitely.

(pause)

SALES REP
And a hint of mocha.

WOMAN
Mm-hmm.

(pause)

SALES REP
And a little graphite.

MAN
Graphite, yes!

SALES REP
You’re picking up the graphite?

WOMAN
I could write a letter with this wine!

MAN (bursting out with laughter)
Pah hah hah!

SALES REP
Very good, miss.

(MAN and WOMAN sip)

MAN
“Write a letter.” That was good.

WOMAN
Thank you.

(MAN and WOMAN sip)

MAN
Maybe we could each buy a bottle, and we could write letters to each other with the wine!

WOMAN
Oh, but I’d rather drink it!

MAN
Two bottles each then, one for drinking and one for writing letters!

(MAN and WOMAN laugh. The SALES REP slumps and rolls his eyes.)

WOMAN
I think we have a plan!

SALES REP
Let’s move on to the Malbec.
(The SALES REP pours. The MAN and WOMAN sip.)
This is a young wine, but it’s precocious.

WOMAN
Pert!

MAN
Yes, “pert”!

WOMAN
Cheeky!

MAN
Who does this wine think it is?

WOMAN
I want to spank this wine!

MAN
Do I... detect... wood?

SALES REP
Very perceptive, sir.

WOMAN (to MAN)
Go you!

SALES REP
Before barreling, the vintner...
(He sighs)
...melts down a birch log and adds it to the wine by straining it through a sandalwood colander. So you’re probably getting birch and sandalwood.

MAN
I was going to say sandalwood!

SALES REP
You should also be getting a touch of children’s tears, grilled raven’s feathers, and cherry cola.

WOMAN
Yes! I was like, “Where is this Cherry Coke coming from?”

SALES REP
Well, more Cherry Pepsi.

WOMAN
Cherry Pepsi... Oh, okay. Yes.

SALES REP
But Mexican Cherry Pepsi. Made with sugar cane, not corn syrup.

WOMAN
You’re absolutely right. You’re absolutely right.

SALES REP
On to the Merlot?
(He pours)
This one is called “Tu Padre es una Mujer Fea.” It means “Sultry Sunday Morning.”

WOMAN
Oooh.

SALES REP
It’s the winemaker’s favorite time of the week, on his veranda, looking out over the humid hillsides, surrounded by cumulus clouds, wisps of mosquito netting, and millions of tiny, colorful frogs. All of which you can taste here.

MAN
Frogs?

SALES REP
Yes sir.

(The MAN swishes the wine is his mouth thoughtfully)

MAN
Kind of a scaly, amphibious minerality? Maybe?

SALES REP (nodding)
Anything else?
(They stare blankly)
The sound of helicopters?

MAN (gasps)
Wow.

WOMAN
That’s astounding. Is there a heliport near the vineyard?

(SALES REP shakes his head, taps his temple)

SALES REP
In his mind. He’s haunted by his childhood rescue from a riot at a pinball tournament.

WOMAN
I think I can taste pinballs!

SALES REP
I’ve never noticed that before, but I bet you’re right! On to the Cabernet Sauvignon?
(With ham-fisted mischief)
Now be careful with this one. It’s a Cab said to have aphrodisiac properties, so be mindful of who happens to be nearby when you taste it.

(MAN and WOMAN glance at each other with looks of mock concern. The SALES REP pours. the MAN and WOMAN taste.)

WOMAN
Wow.

MAN
Whew.

WOMAN
Okay.

MAN
Yes.

WOMAN
I could see... I could see how that... Wow.

(The WOMAN absently unbuttons the top button on her shirt.)

MAN
I sense some, ah... I sense some... I’m definitely detecting some wood.

WOMAN
May I have some more?

MAN
Yes, let me get in there too.

(The SALES REP pours. The MAN and WOMAN drain their cups, then stare deep into each other’s eyes, then push all the bottles to the floor, leap over the table, and begin feeling up the SALES REP.)

SALES REP
Shell I put you down for a case each then?

WOMAN (wrapping her leg around the SALES REP)
Oh my god, more.

MAN (kissing the SALES REP’s neck)
Two cases.

SALES REP
And some artisanal pretzel bread?

WOMAN
Oh god, yes!

MAN
Give me the biggest motherfucking loaf of artisanal pretzel bread you can fit your fucking arms around!

SALES REP
Very good.

(Clothes are flying everywhere as lights come down.)