The Sound of One Hand Withholding Applause

Number Twenty-Two
“All Sacrificed for a Passion”

(The Lover; the Object of a Fatal Passion; the Person or Thing Sacrificed)

Class Clown
The room was a smorgasbord of voices.

The parents and the teachers were off somewhere, meeting, so all of us kindergartners were given free run of the library. Some of us sat on the floor reading aloud from giant picture books. Some huddled in phalanxes, trading hamster war stories or comparing Duplo scars.

I listened to all of it as I stood at the window, looking out into the darkness. At this hour, I should have been home, contemplating my SpongeBob nightlight or refusing to brush my teeth. There was something alien about being at school at night, an odd and forbidden warmth. I liked it. It was no trip to Six Flags, but it was a reprieve.

I heard her voice behind me.

“Hello, Logan.”

I turned, and there was Emma. God help me, my heart still jumped a bit when I saw her. She was wearing the ladybug barrette I’d given her.

Next to her was Zachary, chewing thoughtfully on his thumb. I tried to find it in my heart to feel resentful of Zachary, but I didn’t have the energy. The world turns, the beat goes on…

“Emma,” I said. “You’re looking well. Hello, Zachary.”

Zachary said, “Hey Logan. I was just gonna see if I could score some bug juice. You want some bug juice?”

I waggled my Dixie cup, still full. “I’m good, Zachary.”

“All right. I’ll be right back.” And he was gone.

Emma and I locked eyes for a moment. Then I turned to look out at the playground, which was shrouded in darkness. The fluorescent lights bathed us in pale luminescence, and our reflections looked like giant ghosts standing near the jungle gym. “The library is sultry at night, isn’t it?” I asked.

“What happened to you?” she said.

I sighed.

She continued: “You really hurt Rodney’s feelings yesterday.”

Rodney was the new kid, the deaf kid. I’d done a spot-on imitation of him, his overzealous but inaccurate enunciation, his nasally voice. I’d been developing my repertoire of impersonations, and this was probably my best one to date. Lots of great response from the other kids.

“Comedy hurts people’s feelings,” I told her. “It’s the nature of the beast.”

“Your burp jokes didn’t hurt anybody’s feelings.”

I tried not to roll my eyes. “Burp jokes are dead, Emma. They’re good for making my three-year-old brother laugh. That’s about it.”

“But you’re good at them!”

“I’ve done all I can with the medium,” I told her. “I was treading water.”

Rodney would never have known I was imitating him, of course, except that Mrs. Riley made me apologize. I had to learn the sign for “I’m sorry” and perform it in front of the class. All those kids who’d been enjoying my impersonation now had to watch me get made into an example.

But you know what? Not one of them snickered at me. I didn’t feel any of the gloating that used to accompany my punishments for burping. My classmates were quiet. If anything, I think they resented Rodney for ruining the fun, for standing in the way of an artist testing his boundaries.

For his part, Rodney couldn’t even make eye contact. He just stared down at his desk.

You know what the real tragedy is? Rodney can never know how good I am at imitating him. That’s why I feel sorry for him.

“Did you think you were treading water with me?” Emma asked.

“Of course not.”

“Because you became a different person when you started doing impressions of people. You got cruel,” she said. “Which is why I left.”

We locked eyes. I could swear I saw her younger self, back when we were four, so cocksure of ourselves. I saw the little girl in pigtails in Mrs. Vincent’s class photo. We became class photos, staring motionless in our nice clothes.

I surreptitiously drew some air into my esophagus.

“Zorry Zweetie,” I belched.

She burst out laughing and had to bring her sleeve up to her nose. When she looked up, her face was bright red.

I looked into my drink.

Zachary returned, bearing a Salerno butter cookie on each finger of his left hand. His right held out a cup of fruit punch. Emma smiled suddenly, startlingly at him as she took it. He tugged at her hair.

“What are you two talking about?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Emma replied.

“We were talking about Rodney,” I said.

“Oh! Right,” said Zachary. He nodded nicely.

Zachary did everything nicely. I’d have loved to do a devastating impersonation of him, but what the hell was there to impersonate? Such a bland, straightforward, nice voice. Mr. Richardson has those dropped R’s. Eddie had that lateral lisp. Mrs. Warn had her gravelly smoker’s voice.

I was discovering a challenge of being a successful mimic: in order for you to imitate something, something had to be there.

“Well, we’re going to make the rounds,” said Zachary. “There’s a new jigsaw puzzle everyone’s talking about over by the beanbag chairs. You want to come along?”

“No, I’m all right,” I said. “Thanks though.”

“It was good to see you,” Emma said. I nodded back at her.

I watched them leave. Well, good luck, you two, I thought. I drained my drink and crumpled my Dixie cup

Off in the distance, Zachary began gnawing at his thumb again. There was something singular to it, like a dog worrying a bone.

I tried the motion a few times myself.

Yeah. There was something kind of funny in that.

Number Twenty-Eight
"Obstacles to Love"

(Two Lovers; an Obstacle)

Pseudocopulation
I knew I’d find her there, rooted to the same spot. She didn’t see me yet. I stayed at a distance, hovering a couple feet off the ground, level with her, and I glared at her.

No, I have to be honest. I didn’t glare. I went there to glare, and I ended up drinking her in. Again.

For all the world, she looked like an intoxicating female bumblebee, perched on top of that stalk. I found my eyes tracing the plump contours of her abdomen. Even knowing what I knew – that she was no bumblebee and that was no abdomen – even knowing that, I wanted to grab her and hold her.

For a week, I’d been lambasting myself for my stupidity, and suddenly I felt less stupid. I had a little more sympathy for that bumblebee I’d been, the one that got duped.

I have grown very resentful of biology.

Without realizing it, I had begun drifting toward her. Finally, she heard my buzzing and noticed me. I felt all six legs go slack as I bathed in her scent.

“Hello,” she said.

I said nothing.

“I know why you’re here,” she said. “I wish I could say I’m sorry, but I’m not.” She was an orchid, all right. From her dorsal sepal to her spur.

“Of course you’re not sorry,” I said. “Anything to perpetuate the species, right?”

She grimaced, and I couldn’t tell if she was filled with pity or ridicule. “Of course,” she said. “Do you think you’re different? I seem to recall I wasn’t the only one engaging in mating behavior the other day.”

“I wasn’t lying to you,” I said. “You made me betray my species.”

She remained silent a moment, facing the sun. “I had a feeling something like this might happen. You were different from the others.”

“You were my first,” I blurted out.

She slumped a little. I don’t know why I said it.

“I had a feeling,” she said. “You were very sweet. Very gentle.”

“Well, that’s ruined now,” I said. “Turns out it was wasted on pseudocopulation, some cruel trick to make me cart your pollen around.”

“I loathe the term ‘pseudocopulation,’” she said. “That’s seeing it through your point of view, creatures who can move around. I can’t just flit off and roll around in the grass with someone. For me, that’s copulation. And you were a beautiful lover.”

I said nothing.

She spoke carefully. “I said I wouldn’t apologize. But I will say ‘thank you.’” She gazed at me. “No one else has ever come back afterwards.”

“Well, I’m honored,” I said, sounding a lot more petulant than I wanted to.

“Can I ask you something?” she said. “Where did you deposit the pollen?”

“What do you care?”

“I’d really like to know. I’ve never been able to ask. Somewhere nicer than this place? Sunnier?”

I glared back at her. I said nothing.

“Please?”

I lifted into the air and turned away.

As it happens, yes, I deposited that pollen somewhere nice. There’s a spot by the river where I always thought I’d have my first time. I can’t know for certain, but I think that she would have appreciated it. But part of me can’t bear the fact that I’m bringing more orchids into the world. More deceitful, treacherous flowers to mess with more bumblebees. It infuriates me.

Also, I wanted to hurt her.

As I flew away, I thought I heard her call after me, “I’m sorry.” But I’m not sure.

Number Eighteen
"Involuntary Crimes of Love."

(The Lover; the Beloved; the Revealer)

Live From New York, It’s Speed Dating
I've been contributing to a little project called Sketch War. There are six or seven writers, and each week we take a topic, and each of us posts a sketch based on it.

This week, the assignment was to take a Saturday Night Live character, past or present, and write a sketch for that character.

I had reservations. I figured there were only two directions you could go. Play it straight - write a new sketch as if you were writing it for SNL. Or make fun of the character, writing a mean parody of an actual sketch. I wasn't really interested in doing either.

But here's what I came up with. I think it actually turned out okay, because it manages not to fall into either of those two categories. Most of the other participants managed to do something similar - stay true to the characters, but avoid writing the thousandth Hans & Franz sketch.

* * *

(A speed dating event. MEGAN, an attractive thirtysomething, sits at a small table across from PHIL, 38, in a sharp suit and tie.)

MEGAN
Hi there! I’m Megan.

PHIL
Nice to meet you _{unbutton your blouse,} Megan. I’m Phil Maloney.

MEGAN
What do you do for a living, Phil?

PHIL
I’m an advertising executive _{filthy rich} at an agency downtown.

MEGAN
That sounds fascinating. Do you like it?

PHIL
There are those who see it as crass manipulation of _genitalia emotions, but I see it as matching consumers with their needs _{erotic massage.} And if it increases _{penis size} revenue for my firm _{throbbing bodies,} then who am I to argue?

MEGAN
So, do you make TV commercials or something?

PHIL
Broadcast still plays a role _{dirty principal and innocent schoolgirl,} but nowadays outdoor _sex, print _sex, and web _{hot monkey sex} are increasingly important.

MEGAN
What’s an ideal night out on the town for you?

PHIL
Well, I have a fast-paced lifestyle, so I like to take a woman out on an adventure _{curl up on the couch and watch “The Incredibles.”} I’m thinking a whirlwind wine-and-dine evening, club hopping, and finishing it all off by watching the sunrise _{sharing a pint of Chubby Hubby ice cream directly out of the carton.}

(Ping! The bell rings, and it’s time to move to the next date.)

MEGAN
Well, it was nice to meet you Phil.

PHIL
You too! Good luck _{please pick me please pick me.}

(MEGAN sits at another table across from NICHOLAS, a man in his late twenties with a shaggy mop of red hair. He wears a green Army jacket.)

MEGAN
Hey. I’m Megan.

NICHOLAS
Hi Megan! I’m Nicholas Fehn.

MEGAN
So tell me a bit about yourself.

NICHOLAS
I’m a political comedian.

MEGAN
Oh, wow!

NICHOLAS
Yes, I take headlines from the day’s paper and offer up my own skewed take on the issues.

MEGAN
That sounds fascinating! It must be such a rush to perform like that!

NICHOLAS
It, it – do you know – I would say... My opinion would be... Look. A “rush.” If you do... Here’s how I see it. If you do something for – or anyone, if anyone does something for... Isn’t it? “Fair trade.” Okay? For example. Or, or – if it can be called as such, I don’t think you would disagree, or, look, I think you would at the very least be inclined not to disagree... Do you see?

MEGAN
Um.

NICHOLAS
It, one moment, it behooves us... Or, if not behooves, then at least inspires us to, to look at... One thing that... Among the things, the impetuses, and listen, I’m not objecting to the word “inspiration,” but often we lose track of... We fail to see...

MEGAN
One sec. I’m sorry. We’re running out of time, and I just wanted to ask what you do for fun.

NICHOLAS
Fun is, okay, fun... The pursuit of which I can’t help but – right? – it becomes, at heart, a kind of – or a genre of – let’s look at the “significance,” all right? Fluorocarbons. It’s all right there if only you – if you’re able to look up from your – to make yourself aware –

(Ping!)

MEGAN
It was nice meeting you, Nicholas.

NICHOLAS
At its core –

MEGAN
It was nice meeting you. Good luck.

(MEGAN sits at a third table across from three men: TARZAN, TONTO, and FRANKENSTEIN.)

MEGAN
(wearily pessimistic)
I’m Megan.

TARZAN
(pointing to himself hesitantly)
Tarzan.

TONTO
(pointing to himself stoically)
Tonto.

FRANKENSTEIN
Ngaaaaaaaah.

MEGAN
I have to be honest with you fellas, I’m losing faith in this whole speed dating thing.

TONTO
Many moons spent in search of soul mate, like mighty bear quest for salmon. Eventually realize that all tents more attractive with approach of winter.

MEGAN
I know exactly what you mean! I just don’t want to sell myself short, you know?

TARZAN
One never know true strength until faced with enraged leopard.

FRANKENSTEIN
Rrrrrrrrrrr.

MEGAN
That’s so true. So what do you guys do for fun?

TONTO
Take in movie. Quiet dinner.

TARZAN
Long walk along river. Thwart white hunter.

FRANKENSTEIN
Guuuuuuurng.

TONTO
Perhaps end evening with flight of Australian shiraz at wine bar.

MEGAN
Oh, that sounds so inviting.

TARZAN
And you? What woman enjoy?

MEGAN
I guess I’d just order in, have a long, quiet conversation. Maybe curl up in front of a raging fire.

FRANKENSTEIN
Fiiiire!

TONTO
No, Frankenstein! Take easy!

FRANKENSTEIN
Fire BAD!!!!

(FRANKENSTEIN lifts a screaming MEGAN out of her chair and runs directly through a wall. TONTO and TARZAN watch him go.)

TARZAN
Me told you, leave Frankenstein home.

TONTO
He just nervous. Deep down, has heart of romantic.

TARZAN
He have yet to show it.
(pause)
Oh. Me get it. Good one.

Danielle Steel or Steely Dan?
(The game show set of “Danielle Steel or Steely Dan.” The host, ZACK HICKS, grins at the camera.)

ZACK
Hello again everybody, and welcome to “Danielle Steel or Steely Dan,” the game that quizzes your knowledge of popular literature and music. Let’s meet today’s contestant!

ANNOUNCER
Today’s contestant is a dental hygienist from Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Please welcome Jill Beringer!

(JILL enters excitedly amidst applause.)

ZACK
Welcome, Jill!

JILL
Thanks, Jack!!

ZACK
You know how it works. I will give you a title. And you have to tell me if it’s the title of a book by renowned romance novelist Danielle Steel or of a song by jazz-infused classic rockers Steely Dan. You ready?

JILL
I am!

ZACK
We’re going to start out simple with your first title. “Haitian Divorce.” Danielle Steel or Steely Dan?

JILL
That has got to be Danielle Steel.

ZACK
And why is that?

JILL
I think it follows a woman who decided she and her husband should take separate vacations to separate tropical countries. She got the idea from her sister, who has nicknamed this a “Haitian Divorce.” She falls in love with a passionate, well-endowed local conman who takes her to bed but then takes her for all she’s worth, and then she returns to her marriage sadder and wiser.

ZACK
No, I’m afraid it is a Steely Dan song.

AUDIENCE
Awwww!

ZACK
“Haitian Divorce”? Doesn’t ring a bell?

JILL
No!

ZACK
Well, if it’s any consolation, your plot was surprisingly accurate. All righty, next title. “Five Days in Paris.” Danielle Steel or Steely Dan?

JILL
I’m going to say... Um...

ZACK
“Five Days in Paris.”

JILL
Okay, I’m going with Steely Dan, and here’s why. It sounds like a narrative about a businessman who brings his mistress to a casino under the guise of taking a business trip, but he becomes crippled with guilt and spends all his time at the blackjack table. And then he gets violently mugged.

ZACK
No, I’m afraid it’s Danielle Steel.

AUDIENCE
Awwww!

ZACK
This steamy 1997 novel follows a president of a pharmaceutical empire and a senator’s wife – two lives forever changed by five days in the titular city. Jill, it’s just not your day so far!

JILL
I know!

ZACK
That’s all right, your fortunes will turn. Shall we move to the next title?

JILL
Yes!

ZACK
All right. “Glamour Profession.” Danielle Steel or Steely Dan?

JILL
Grr! These are impossible!

ZACK
“Glamour Profession.”

JILL
Okay. I think that’s Danielle Steel. And... It’s about the modeling industry. A beautiful young model in Manhattan, right off the bus, gets seduced by a swarthy but soulful bohemian photographer who introduces her to a billionaire banker. She becomes a kept woman and becomes addicted to the high rolling lifestyle, until she sees her billionaire starting a relationship with a new young model. And she sees that she has given up her soul.

ZACK
I like that plot.

JILL
Thank you.

ZACK
I would read that book.

JILL
Would you?

ZACK
If only it existed. Because it is in fact a Steely Dan song about an athlete/drug dealer in Los Angeles.

JILL
Darn!

AUDIENCE
Awwww!

ZACK
It’s okay, these are tough. Are you ready for one more?

JILL
Let’s do this.

ZACK
All righty. “Mirror Image.” Danielle Steel or Steely Dan?

JILL
“Mirror Image.” Um... “Mirror Image.”

ZACK
Danielle Steel or Steely Dan?

JILL
I think... I’m going to go... with... Steely Dan.

ZACK
And why is that?

JILL
Because it sounds like some middle class suburbanites sitting by the pool the day after a swingers party they’ve hosted. Um. There was a lot of marijuana, and then they selected keys from a bowl. But they picked their own keys. And now they’re glaring at each other, trying to laugh it off, drinking cocktails to take the edge off their hangovers, but inside, their hearts are burbling over with resentment. And I think maybe their friend has committed suicide.

ZACK
That makes perfect sense to me, but guess what.

JILL
It was Danielle Steel.

ZACK
I’m afraid so.

AUDIENCE
Awwww!

ZACK
A work of historical fiction taking place in the early 1900s, “Mirror Image” follows the exploits of Olivia and Victoria, two beautiful young heiresses who are identical twins.

JILL
I was going to say that!

ZACK
That’s all right! You can make it all up in our speed round. Are you ready?

JILL
As ready as I’ll ever be, Zack.

ZACK
All righty. The clock starts when I read the first title. “The House on Hope Street.”

JILL
Steely Dan.

(buzzer – wrong answer)

ZACK
“Pearl of the Quarter.”

JILL
Danielle Steel.

(buzzer – wrong answer)

ZACK
“A Perfect Stranger.”

JILL
Steely Dan.

(buzzer – wrong answer)

ZACK
“Wanderlust.”

JILL
Steely Dan.

(buzzer – wrong answer)

ZACK
“Rose Darling.”

JILL
Danielle Steel.

(buzzer – wrong answer)

ZACK
“Green Earrings.”

JILL
Danielle Steel.

(buzzer – wrong answer)

ZACK
“Babylon Sisters.”

JILL
Danielle Steel.

(buzzer – wrong answer)

ZACK
“Fine Things.”

JILL
Steely Dan.

(buzzer – wrong answer)

ZACK
“My Rival.”

JILL
Danielle Steel.

(buzzer – wrong answer)

ZACK
“Granny Dan.”

JILL
Steely Dan.

(buzzer – wrong answer)

(We hear a mournful slash chord played on a synthesizer.)

ZACK
Jill, Jill, Jill...

JILL
(burying her face in her hands)
I know...

ZACK
I’m afraid you got not a single title right.

JILL
Oh, I am so embarrassed.

ZACK
That’s all right, we’ve got a lovely consolation prize for you. Tell her what she’s won!

ANNOUNCER
Jill will take home a year’s supply of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream and a copy of Bert Ligon’s book “Connecting Chords with Linear Harmony.”

ZACK
That sound all right to you Jill?

JILL
That sounds great, Zack!

ZACK
(to the camera)
Well you know what sounds great to me? Meeting up again tomorrow for another episode of...

ZACK, JILL, AUDIENCE
“Danielle Steel or Steely Dan!”

(ZACK and JILL blow us a kiss. Closing credits.)

Facebook of Genesis
God joined Facebook.

God changed his Profile Picture.

God is now friends with Lucifer.
Lucifer: ’Sup! Welcome! (Careful, it’s addictive!)

God joined the group Heaven and Earth.

God is letting there be light.

God is separating the land from the sea.
Lucifer: Nice work. I hate when it’s all soggy.
God: I know, right? I can’t have cake and ice cream touching either.
Lucifer: WORD

God has added the application (Lil) Green Patch.

God has added a Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil to his (Lil) Green Patch.
Lucifer: Awesome!

God is telling the creatures of the air and sea to multiply.
Lucifer: Baby birds. Are. ADORABLE! Squee!

God added Sun, Moon, and Stars to his Creations.
Lucifer: Sooooo jealous!

God added Wild Beasts, Livestock, and Reptiles to his Creations.
Lucifer: I can haz lizardburger?
God: Wha...?

Lucifer posted a link: I Can Has Cheezburger?
God: HA!!

God added Man to his Creations.

God and Adam are now friends.

God is seeing that it is good.

Lucifer and Adam are now friends via the People You May Know tool.

Lucifer wrote on Adam’s Wall.
Lucifer: Yo! How’s it hanging?
Adam: ??
Lucifer: That Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil is something isn’t it?
Adam: ??

God wrote a new note: Just a reminder: you’re not to eat from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil.

Adam became a fan of Rabbits.
RABBITS are rodents known for their speed and luck.

Adam became a fan of Watermelons.
WATERMELONS are large fruits with hard, green rinds and sweet, pink flesh dotted with black seeds.

Adam became a fan of Clouds.
CLOUDS are amorphous masses of moisture suspended in the air.

Adam tagged God in his note 25 Random Things About Me.
God: Gotcha. I’ll see what I can do.

God added Woman to his Creations.
Adam: EXACTLY what I was thinking.

God and Eve are now friends.

Adam and Eve are now friends.

Lucifer and Eve are now friends.

Adam has a pain in his chest.
God: That will go away.

Adam changed his status to in a relationship.
Lucifer: Congrats!

Eve changed her status to in a relationship.
Lucifer: Mazel tov!

Adam created a new album: Awesome Animals I Have Named.
God: “Ibex”? Really?

Lucifer wrote on Eve’s Wall.
Lucifer: Have you ever seen a baby bird?
Eve: ??
Lucifer: They are adorable. I think there’s a new nest in the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil.
Eve: ??

Lucifer wrote on Adam’s Wall.
Lucifer: I am STARVING. Could go for an apple. You in?
Adam: Sure.

God wrote a new note: Eating from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil will result in death. FYI.

Adam is just noticing something: he is naked.

God created an event: Get out of the garden.
“Seriously. Out.”

God is no longer friends with Lucifer.

The Lost Shakespeare Play
By the way, this is what has been going on for me lately... I wrote a play that is opening March 6. I've been writing it on and off for over 7 years, and it's finally going up in less than a week and a half.

In case anyone who reads this doesn't know about it, and is nearby enough to check it out, here is the info!

“The Lost Shakespeare Play” makes its World Premiere at EP Theater on March 6

WHAT:
The world premiere of "The Lost Shakespeare Play," written by Chicago playwright Dave Stinton and directed by Jen Ellison. Based on the true story of an eighteenth century theatrical scandal, "The Lost Shakespeare Play" tells the tale of 19-year-old William-Henry Ireland, who has uncovered what he claims is a lost play by William Shakespeare. The play, entitled "Vortigern," causes a sensation in literary circles, and many - experts and laypeople alike - are utterly convinced of its authenticity. But Edmond Malone, the foremost Shakespeare scholar of the day, is not. Malone and Ireland square off onstage in this comedy, each pleading his case as opening night approaches. The show runs approximately 90 minutes with no intermission.

WHERE:
EP Theater, 1820 S. Halsted, Chicago, IL 60608
Parking available (street and lot); CTA accessible (Blue Line UIC-Halsted, bus lines #8 & #62)
Free designated parking lot behind the theater
Handicapped accessible

WHEN:
Press opening on Friday, March 6, 2009, at 8:00pm (media invited to attend any performance)
Closes on March 22, 2009
Runs Thursdays at 7:00pm; Fridays and Saturdays at 8:00pm; Sundays at 2:00pm

TICKETS:
To purchase tickets: 773-895-9935
$20 for regular single tickets
$15 for students (with valid ID)
$10 for Columbia College students (with valid ID)
Group rates for 10 and over available upon request.

STAFF:
Dave Stinton (Playwright), Jen Ellison (Director), Abbie Colton (Producer), Mike Durst (Light Design), Emily Morgan DeAngelis (Costume Design), Molly K. Norris (Sound Design), Dianna Driscoll (Stage Manager), Shawn Quinlan (Costume Assistant)

CAST:
Nick Vidal (William-Henry Ireland), Kevin Gladish (Edmond Malone), Sean Patrick Leonard (John Phillip Kemble), Jack McCabe (Mr. Barrymore), Kerry Cahill (Dorothea Jordan), Adam Weiler (Mr. King), Clayton Faits (Mr. Whitfield), Roxanne Saylor (Mrs. Sarah Siddons)

Trailer
(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.)

The Palin
Once upon an August dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
How a Navy man like me could inch away from Bush’s war,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping at my campaign bus’s door.
“My campaign advisors,” said I, “tapping at my bus’s door.
Only this, and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly I remember looking forward to November,
Each resentful party member drifting toward me more and more.
There was but one sticky wicket: who would share my party’s ticket?
Who would be the one to stick it to Obama/Biden’s core?
Who would crush that latte-swilling, tofu-gorg’d elitist core?
Pulverize them evermore?

There in some strange swing-state city, frenzied, feverish and giddy,
Stood my VP search committee, dizzy with the news they bore.
“John,” they said, “we think we’ve landed just the person you demanded!
We’ve dug up a VP candidate you’re certain to adore!
We’ve dug up a running mate with whom you’ll relish great rapport!
Everything we need – and more!”

“Prithee,” cried I, “lay it on me! Tim Pawlenty? Giuliani?
Huckabee? Ron Paul? Mitt Romney? Lieberman detached from Gore?”
Answered they, “Put on your mohair! Mount that golden bridge to nowhere!
Steel yourself to boldly go where no campaign has gone before!
Northward to Alaska, John, where no campaign has gone before!”
Only this and nothing more.

So it came to pass that soon, oh reader, I would fly to Juneau,
Weave my way through caribou no one had warned me of before.
How shall I describe this Sarah? Sexpot from the frontier era?
Trappist monk in blue mascara, terrifying to the core?
Could I get to Washington with one who chilled me to the core?
I resolved to find out more:

“Let me test some applications of your grasp of world relations.
Could you face the Russian nation’s fearsome leader, I implore?”
Quoth the Palin, “Sure as shootin’! You’re too gosh darn highfalutin!
Don’t be scared of Vladdy Putin! Wave to him from my back door!”
She continued, “When it’s clear, you can see Russia from my door.”
Thus she spake, and nothing more.

Turned I then to each advisor, panic gushing like a geyser:
“Can’t we go with someone wiser?” Answered they, “Whatever for?
Turn the pundits to promoters! Unify third-party floaters!
Gather thwarted Clinton voters keen to settle up the score!
(Women hate Obama now. Let’s help them settle up the score!)”
Thus we vetted nevermore.

Briefly did she ease my tension at the GOP convention;
There we saw her grand ascension, buoyed by the base’s roar!
But I’d boasted prematurely, for she started faring poorly,
With an act that I was surely, slowly learning to abhor.
With that falsely folksy fake façade I’d now learned to abhor.
(How could I withstand much more?)

Witnessed I her foul debating, watched her bobbing, weaving, skating,
Watched it all, although her grating accent made it quite a chore.
There this bumpkin from Wasilla, overbearingly vanilla,
Argued for a plan to drill a fleet of derricks just offshore.
Told us all, “Drill, baby, drill a fleet of derricks just offshore!”
Winked she then, and little more.

All of her alleged blessing giving way to second-guessing!
All of my Straight Talk Expressing drooping to a torpid snore!
Ah, how dolefully I have recalled that fickle title “maverick”!
Ah, how I await the salve required to ease my aching sore!
Joe the Plumber can’t unclog the aching of my aching sore!
Victory, and nothing more!

Does Obama lead the polling, even with his prissy bowling?
Do I hear the death bell tolling, too foreboding to ignore?
Shall I mark its clanging clapper? Is my quest tossed in the crapper
By this dapper whippersnapper snapping from the Senate floor –
Barely leaving fleeting footprints printed on the Senate floor?
Blast Barack, and Michael Moore!

And the Palin, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid punch-card ballot passing into right-wing lore.
Can I foil Obama nation? Will my dance of desperation
Help avoid humiliation looming this November four?
Can that wild Hail Mary give me victory November four?
Quoth the Palin, “You betcha!”

Trick or Treat
I am perfectly still.

Through two eyeholes I watch two kids, a few feet away from me on my front porch, as they receive their candy. My wife drops a handful of fun-size chocolate bars in each of their bags.

I keep my breathing steady and shallow. My breath echoes around in my mask, but hopefully the kids can’t hear it.

I’m dressed as a scarecrow decoration. My flannel shirt is stuffed with straw and newspaper, and I sit limply, like an inanimate object. Any second now, I am to leap up and roar at these kids.

I can’t.

My wife stalls them, asking them about their costumes. One of them is Batman and the other is some kind of video game character, I suppose.

She glances briefly at me. I don’t move.

“Well, bye! Happy Halloween!” she says.

“Say thank you,” says the kids’ mom.

“Thank you,” recite the kids in song-songy unison.

They leave and travel to the next house. My wife watches them go. When they are at a safe distance, she turns to me and whispers, “What the fuck, Neil?”

“I’m sorry,” I answer. My voice is amplified into my own ears, unfamiliar sounding. Everything smells of sweaty rubber.

“Do you want to do this or not?” she asks. She looks frustrated. Gone is the giddy mischief that was in her voice when she proposed this prank to me a few days ago. It was charming to see her so excited. But now, faced with the kids who keep showing up, I freeze.

“Yes,” I tell her. “Of course. I’m just waiting for the right moment.”

Her mouth falls open, and she flips her palms upward. “There’ve been like fifty kids!” she seethes. “What are you waiting for?”

“I’ll get the next one,” I mumble.

She turns and stalks back inside, slamming the door behind her.

When I was a kid, I went trick-or-treating with a few friends, and we stopped at a neighborhood house where some older kids were watching movies. There were no parents around.

They answered the door and held out a big bowl filled with candy. They said, “There’s a five dollar bill at the bottom of this bowl, and whoever gets there first gets to keep it!”

My friends and I thrust our hands into the bowl and immediately came in contact with an oozing mass of shaving cream. We shrieked and laughed, until the older kids started hurling the candy at us, hard. We ran away. They called us faggots.

The meanness shouldn’t have surprised or bothered me. Older kids are mean. That’s just a fact. What stung was how nice they pretended to be at first. Just enough to ease my fear of older kids. Just so they could freshly sharpen the meanness and slash at us with renewed cruelty.

Every Halloween, no matter how sure I am that I’m over it, a part of me roasts with resentment.

Tonight, every time a kid has approached my front door, I’ve had to grit my teeth and let that resentment drain out of my body.

I imagine leaping up and roaring. I imagine them screaming. I hate them for their vulnerability, maybe more than I hate myself for tricking them.

I worry about my hands balling into fists. I worry about hitting them. I wonder if I’d be able to stop.

A child climbs my front steps, dressed as a cowboy. I’ve caught his eye, and he pauses just as he’s about to ring the doorbell. He looks at me with unselfconscious nervousness. We stare at each other for several silent seconds, and I become aware that I’m holding my breath. I press my eyes shut.

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...???

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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.)

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