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General Chaos / Re: WRITING PROMPT
« on: September 16, 2009, 11:22:46 AM »
Boy sits on an area rug. Light through window.
(off-screen)
Wa hah, wa hah, wa hah.
Boy stares at the of window. Afternoon. Tree visible, light breeze audible.
BOING! It's hot. Sweaty face. Gasp!
Boy climbs out of window onto fire escape.
BOY
Who coughs up there?
Woman visible in ratty arm chair through dirty glass.
WOMAN
My hot lungs are filled with fluid, you brat. Do you have any food? I want - wa hah wa hah - a piece of meat.
FADE TO BLACK
FADE IN
Boy standing next to woman with contraption that looks like a gas power generator running a tube into her mouth and down her throat.
WOMAN
Drain the fluid.
The boy drains the fluid by flipping a switch. Power on, noisy. Black fluid drips into a translucent plastic container and seals it with a bumpy white cap.
BOY
What shall I do with our fluid?
WOMAN
It is mine!
(pause)
WOMAN (cont.)
Put it out on the curb. There are hippies in this town who use my fluid for their stupid vehicles - "broach crates" - which litter the streets and do nothing but spread filth across the region.
The boy imagines young men and women riding in wooden crates that are mysteriously dragged down the street. Their smiling faces, long flowing hair, and baggy clothes vibrate together in a single swirl.
STREET
The boy slowly places the plastic container on the sidewalk. Before he releases his grip on the handle, the hippies from his vision slide up in their broach crate.
HIPPIE MAN
Hey doogie, are you liberating that grunk pod?
(leans forward)
HIPPIE MAN (cont.)
You should give it to me.
Hippie Girl giggles
HIPPIE GIRL
That sauce will take us all the way over yonder.
Boy cringes in response to the hippies. He dumps the fluid out onto the street. It runs into the drain.
HIPPIE MAN
That's wretched. What a shame. You're a real dope, kid. We need more...
Boy stands with dirty container.
FADE TO BLACK
FADE IN
Hippie man, hippie girl, and the boy stand in a static constellation in the old woman's apartment. The machine is running again. Fluid drips into the plastic container. The old woman frowns.
OLD WOMAN
Ack! Wa-hah, wa-hah!
HIPPIE MAN
Yeah our crotch is all broke up outside. We gots ta slam. And uh, we really appreciate it.
Plate of muffins. Flies buzzing around.
OUTSIDE
Broach crate on sidewalk. There is an orange parking ticket on it. Hippie man approaches. Takes the ticket. Looks at it as if through bifocals. Delayed reaction.
HIPPIE MAN
(under his breath)
Parking violation...
He suddenly realizes what it is.
HIPPIE MAN
Shove it!
Hippie man rubs the ticket on his face and gurgles.
HIPPIE GIRL
Aw, that's too bad honey. Don't get flusterated. I'm gonna pour this in now.
Hippie girl holds up the bottle to show him. She dumps the fluid into the broach crate. The two hop in. The crate slides away.
Inside of boy's apartment. View of window. Boy climbs into the apartment and sits back down on the area rug. The sun is going down.
(off-screen)
Wa hah, wa hah, wa hah.
Boy stares at the of window. Afternoon. Tree visible, light breeze audible.
BOING! It's hot. Sweaty face. Gasp!
Boy climbs out of window onto fire escape.
BOY
Who coughs up there?
Woman visible in ratty arm chair through dirty glass.
WOMAN
My hot lungs are filled with fluid, you brat. Do you have any food? I want - wa hah wa hah - a piece of meat.
FADE TO BLACK
FADE IN
Boy standing next to woman with contraption that looks like a gas power generator running a tube into her mouth and down her throat.
WOMAN
Drain the fluid.
The boy drains the fluid by flipping a switch. Power on, noisy. Black fluid drips into a translucent plastic container and seals it with a bumpy white cap.
BOY
What shall I do with our fluid?
WOMAN
It is mine!
(pause)
WOMAN (cont.)
Put it out on the curb. There are hippies in this town who use my fluid for their stupid vehicles - "broach crates" - which litter the streets and do nothing but spread filth across the region.
The boy imagines young men and women riding in wooden crates that are mysteriously dragged down the street. Their smiling faces, long flowing hair, and baggy clothes vibrate together in a single swirl.
STREET
The boy slowly places the plastic container on the sidewalk. Before he releases his grip on the handle, the hippies from his vision slide up in their broach crate.
HIPPIE MAN
Hey doogie, are you liberating that grunk pod?
(leans forward)
HIPPIE MAN (cont.)
You should give it to me.
Hippie Girl giggles
HIPPIE GIRL
That sauce will take us all the way over yonder.
Boy cringes in response to the hippies. He dumps the fluid out onto the street. It runs into the drain.
HIPPIE MAN
That's wretched. What a shame. You're a real dope, kid. We need more...
Boy stands with dirty container.
FADE TO BLACK
FADE IN
Hippie man, hippie girl, and the boy stand in a static constellation in the old woman's apartment. The machine is running again. Fluid drips into the plastic container. The old woman frowns.
OLD WOMAN
Ack! Wa-hah, wa-hah!
HIPPIE MAN
Yeah our crotch is all broke up outside. We gots ta slam. And uh, we really appreciate it.
Plate of muffins. Flies buzzing around.
OUTSIDE
Broach crate on sidewalk. There is an orange parking ticket on it. Hippie man approaches. Takes the ticket. Looks at it as if through bifocals. Delayed reaction.
HIPPIE MAN
(under his breath)
Parking violation...
He suddenly realizes what it is.
HIPPIE MAN
Shove it!
Hippie man rubs the ticket on his face and gurgles.
HIPPIE GIRL
Aw, that's too bad honey. Don't get flusterated. I'm gonna pour this in now.
Hippie girl holds up the bottle to show him. She dumps the fluid into the broach crate. The two hop in. The crate slides away.
Inside of boy's apartment. View of window. Boy climbs into the apartment and sits back down on the area rug. The sun is going down.