First Draft December, 1997 EYES IN THE DARK A Screenplay by JOHN MONTELEONE CONTACT: e-mail: writing@johnmonteleone.com PO Box 2723 Sag Harbor, NY 11963 __________________________________ Copyright 1997 by John Monteleone All Rights Reserved Registered with WGAE FADE IN: EXT. TIMES SQUARE, NYC - DAY No sound. WE SEE Just the mad rush of tires from cars and trucks on New York City streets whoosh by in opposite directions. Then stop fast, and start up again. The repetition is almost chaotically rhythmic. Sound begins to integrate into the picture. In the distance is a man, JOHN HAMLET, 41, tall, dark, lean and looking like the actor/artist he is, dressed in a dark, long coat, standing on the sidewalk waiting to cross the street. BEGIN MUSIC: Folk Rock, edgy, but beautiful. This kind of music will integrate throughout the film. All original, nothing identifyable to the audience, and each piece filtering in and out of the imagery, supporting, juxtaposing, enhancing it. CU: of John Hamlet's forty one-year old face, full of empathy, compassion, a certain wisdom that comes from asking courageous questions and seeking depthful answers. An understanding, but nevertheless, a weariness as age is coming upon his once vital, youthful body. He looks right, then left, nervously amongst the increasingly violent traffic and energy of the city. As we watch him close up, then from different angles, people around him become larger than life. They pass indifferently, quickly, with a stoneage roughness about them; a primitive sense of survival hidden under designer clothing and paraphernalia. He crosses the street, it's TIMES SQUARE mid-day and he's battling cars, horns honk at him angrily. He walks down the street. People pass him indifferently. Tons of marquee's reflect the movies and the plays of the day. All fluff or action movies, and musicals about Cats, Dogs and roller skating. The juxtapositions of advertising, people's from all over the world, and commerce mingling with the mad rush of tourists, and New Yorkers, is "everywhere". BEGIN TITLES: JOHN'S POV - THE CAMERA moves like a man's head, it is looking up at the pure azure sky, then turns TO SEE the tops of tall buildings and then down into a store window. John's reflection is in the window, it is a hollow, ghost-like image. He just stares at the reflection. WE HEAR the harsh honking of a car horn, as if John were about to be hit. He turns his head sharply and the SCREEN goes BLACK. INT. SMALL STUDIO APARTMENT IN N.Y. CITY - DAY FADE IN ON: JOHN HAMLET'S POV - his eyes open slowly. WE SEE a crack of white light. More light. Then more light. WE SEE a ceiling, some cracks in it, old paint, streaks of daylight bursting across it. WE HEAR John mumbling something quickly, over and over again, very fast. It becomes clear. JOHN HAMLET Why man he doth bestride the narrow world like a Colossus and we petty men walk under his huge legs and peep about to find ourselves, dishonorable graves... ANOTHER ANGLE: John is lying in bed looking up at the ceiling, silently mouthing the words above. He looks over at camera. John's POV - WE SEE the room; a bed, some furniture, some artfully selected articles on otherwise old, withered walls. There is a warm touch, but poverty reeks everywhere. A naked leg of a woman is seen from John's POV, then we see her smiling at him. SHARON, 29, is natually beautiful and loving. She reaches out to him. The camera begins to rise, she rises, and we and she move toward each other. Her face is close, and aroused. We hear John and Sharon breathing heavily. She moves to kiss him, her mouth sensually open coming towards us. HARD CUT TO: ROAR OF A SUBWAY TRAIN. INT. SUBWAY CAR People on subway are burnt out, out of shape, homeless, indifferent. The camera jerks wildly. WE CAN'T HEAR ANYTHING except the roar of the subway. John is crammed between people. INT. THEATRE, A STAGE The stage has a spot on it. John enters the spot. We see him reading and speaking but cannot hear him. He stops. Looks out. VOICE (O.S.) Thank you. Next please. Silence. WE WATCH the stage. JOHN'S POV. - Looking at the empty theatre seats. A man sitting dead center in the theatre seats, bored. MAN IN THEATRE POV - Looking at John on the stage. Darkness surrounds him except for the dimly lit spot that creates a shadow out of him. VOICE (from theatre) THANK YOU. NEXT PLEASE. JOHN But I didn't read yet. VOICE You're too ethnic. I'm sorry Mr. Hamlet. JOHN I'll dye my hair. Lighten my skin. I can look Irish if that's what you... VOICE ...We're looking for another type. I'm sorry. Have a good day. John moves out of the shadows slowly and stops. He turns his head in to ask a question, WE SEE his ghost of a face, luminescent, alone amongst the bare blackness of the seemingly eternal theatre space surrounding and engulfing him. He moves out of the light. Just the dim spot remains a bit too long. VOICE (from theatre) NEXT PLEASE. INT. RESTAURANT--DAY John is sitting with SUZETTE, a tall, blond, agent of 28, wearing a hot red leather dress. They're eating salads. SUZETTE Just because things are slow, John, doesn't mean you can simply break your contract with us. You signed with us, your ass is ours. I had to say that, bosses orders, now do what you want, you will, anyway. And you should change your name, Hamlet's too pretentious. People laugh. JOHN It's a stage name for Chrissakes. Let's deal with the real problem, and that is, Suzette, that you're not doing anything for my career. I signed with you because you swore to me that you were going to send me on auditions of substance, for works that I wanted to do, for roles that would be both challenging, and, relevant. SUZETTE And we did that. JOHN You sent me for a Charmin Toilet Paper Commercial and a Spanish Soap Opera--I don't even speak Spanish for Chrissakes. SUZETTE They would have coached you. JOHN Suzette! There's a million Spanish actors... SUZETTE You said you wanted to stretch. It's work. JOHN Actors aren't supposed to sell products. They're supposed to be actors, and act. SUZETTE So what are you saying, you won't take a national commercial spot? JOHN I don't know. SUZETTE With you that means no. Idealistic. Noble. And stupid. Reality isn't what you make it, John. It's what it is. JOHN Reality is what we make it. What we create. Just like our lives. We make choices, we react, we act. The result is the world we live in. SUZETTE What time is it? JOHN One ten. SUZETTE Oh shit, I have a one thirty appointment. JOHN Sal? SUZETTE (she glares at him) No. (pause) Yes. (pause) So? JOHN Getting laid isn't an appointment, Suz. SUZETTE What is it? JOHN It's... getting laid. They both share a laugh. JOHN Tired of domesticity again? SUZETTE Domesticity sucks! I like the affair better... oh shit... I have to use the bathroom. JOHN No. This is my time. My meeting. SUZETTE I'm sorry, you're right. Okay. Go on, I'm listening. (she's not listening) Suzette sees her reflection in John's mirrored sunglasses and straightens her hair (as he speaks) looking into them, then begins to apply make-up and as his head moves, so does she. JOHN Suzette? What are you doing? SUZETTE Nothing. You talk, I'll fix. Okay? Kill two innocent precious birds with one big... (big smile) JOHN ...self indulgent, narcissistic action? Look, I don't want to sound like a lecture, but... Suzette, the works of great writers, past and present, have something to say about our shared, and individual humanity. Actors are their voice, as well as having the opportunity to dig within great roles, to find a unique, individual humanity no one else ever saw before. It's the same for modern plays or films of substance. We can enlighten people, Suzette. Make them think, feel, wonder, dream, and know themselves better. It's a mirror up to nature. SUZETTE Uh huh. I know. I have a degree in English Lit from Yale, remember? Hold still. You move your head too much when you talk, did you know that? Not good for film you'll drive the cinematographer nuts. JOHN (holding his head still) That's WHY I became an actor. I'm not simply looking for a gig and I need someone who will back me, search for and find roles that I'd be... SUZETTE (applying make-up) ...What are you saying? One sentence, not a book, please! JOHN Great works reveal our deepest feelings and expose the masks we put on our faces and what we hide behind them--our human frailties. Our weaknesses. SUZETTE Time? JOHN One twenty one. SUZETTE Shit. I should have had my hair done. Is it okay? JOHN Ravishing. I'm only asking you to understand who I am as an actor and begin to help me move in that direction. Will you or won't you? SUZETTE Be patient. JOHN Twenty years Suzette! SUZETTE Don't look back it only causes indigestion--I read that in a self-help book I think. Or maybe on the bottle of Tummies. (giggles, applies make-up) I'm listening. Talk. But hold still, okay. Suzette applies thick, blue eyes shadow. John annoyed, and trying to make his point stares straight ahead. He seems robotic for the moment as she nervously, creates her face into something that it's not. JOHN Are you delirious with revenge? What do you need to do to escape your domesticity? Are you trapped in the escape, or are you trapped in giving up? Or caught between the two? Are you the image you present to survive in your own little cinema. Are you the star of your life, or of other people's lives; are you the image, or the person underneath it? Why are you involved with images of yourself? Are you the real person, or are you the imagined person you created yourself to be, now personified to impress other impersonators hiding behind their masks? YOU'RE NOT FUCKING LISTENING TO A THING I'M SAYING. SUZETTE He's a fabulous lover, and, I haven't had sex in two weeks! Now HOLD STILL! She grabs his chin, crushing his face so that it's difficult for him to speak, and holds his head perfectly still. She maneuvers his head, using it as a mirror, desperately, and neurotically applying mascara. JOHN Can you kill me without touching me? Kill me in your mind? Kill me in your heart? Kill me in your life? Ignore me so you can remain separate from my pain and safe in your dementia? Where do we go from here? Is there really any place to go? SUZETTE Time? JOHN One twenty six. SUZETTE Gotta split, babe? (business-like) So, did we solve the problem? JOHN (sadly) I have another appointment with another agent today. I don't want to work with you anymore. You're a total idiot. But I like you. SUZETTE Thanks. (turning to leave, stops) John? JOHN Yeah? SUZETTE If you ever leave what's-her-name with the big tits, gimme a call. Sorry it didn't work out. But I really gotta... JOHN ...get some superficial love? SUZETTE Yeah. I'm sorry. I live in America. JOHN I totally understand. She smiles, and leaves. John slumps over in his chair banging his head against the table. EXT. SKY - DAY Bright white sky bursts onto the screen. THE CAMERA moves like a man's head from the sky, quickly down the tall buildings, down the long block and back to the man's feet. A cigarette is dropped, John steps on it. Looks forward a little to see a drain, crammed with garbage, cars passing, he looks at his calander to see the date and an interviewers address: "1:00 pm M & M TALENT AGENCY - 125 East 58th street suite 17- D, Marsha." John checks his headshot package, and enters the building not excited--this is routine stuff. INT. TALENT MARSHA'S OFFICE WAITING ROOM - DAY Several people are sitting there, reading, fixing hair, etc. Some look like John who walks in. Everyone looks at everyone else for one second, and then, competitively, go back to their own preparation. INT. TALENT MARSH'S OFFICE - DAY John and MARSHA),32, very Yuppie, sit across from one another at an art-deco desk. She is looking at his Headshot and resume. MARSHA I think we can work with you. I see you as a tough, violent type; drug addict, murderer, child molester, wife beater; you know, a street type or crooked cop. JOHN Oh no, really? I'm not tough, not really. MARSHA But the face has strong features. JOHN But my heart, has fragile, very sensitive - "features". MARSHA Don't we all. (laughs) JOHN No, unfortunately not. My work is an extension, of me. Do you know what I mean? MARSHA Of course of course... Mine is, too... JOHN Acting, is for me, a way of experiencing and sharing humanity, life, in a way that... MARSHA ...Who did this shot, I like it..? JOHN ...A friend, believe it or not... MARSHA ...I have a great photographer who... JOHN ...I'm not getting new shots. Pause. Marsha looks at him. Smiles. MARSHA You have a great "look", and he's fantastic. JOHN No money. I think of the Renaissance, Michaelangelo, The Pieta, works that touch our hearts in a way that is beyond words. MARSHA Michaelangelo's dead, isn't he? JOHN No. MARSHA Or do you mean that hot new Rapp artist? (laughs) The PHONE RINGS. Marsha snaps it up. MARSHA Yes? Tell him I'll call him back and not to sign anything, that asshole's willing to rape anything for a buck, fuck him. Okay, good-bye sweetie. She hangs up. MARSHA Sorry, I know where you're going with this so let me be clear so there are no misunderstandings. I get three hundred head shots a week from the little stinkers, and if I want a green pigmy with three toes, two noses, and a goiter, I can pull five from that file cabinet and they'll be ready to work in ten seconds... JOHN ...A headshot doesn't make you an actor. MARSHA I could use you for ethnic character types, mostly rough, gruff types, or derelict types. That's what we're looking for because there are a lot of films looking for that and they pay well. (bold smile) Okay? John just stares at her. MARSHA Okay? John? JOHN I... THE PHONE RINGS AGAIN. Marsha picks snaps it off the hook. MARSHA ...Talk fast... Yes? Keep him on the line, tell him I'll call him back in (looks at John) two minutes the most. Yes doll, thank you. She hangs up. MARSHA Should we give it a try or not? JOHN I have a video of my work, there are three very distinctive characters you... MARSHA ...BUMS first, and, IF we're VERY lucky, and you HIT, then we'll see if we can, STRETCH you into other TYPES of roles. Whatdyasay? Pause. They look at one another. JOHN Okay. MARSHA Oh good. You're not bad looking either. John just looks at her. Smiles and rises to leave. As he's exiting: MARSHA (cute) Bye bye. He exits. EXT. CITY STREET - DAY John is walking down the street bustling through the crowds that are indifferent, one man bumps into him almost knocking him over. WE HEAR traffic sounds, hear much noise, horns honking. There is a chaos, a madness, an irrationality that gives us a sense of barbaric hostility in this scene. The Artist living amongst madness, trying to understand that which he is, that which he might be on a higher plane of consciousness, but entrapped, like a poet in a cannibal's pot. INT. JOHN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT. JOHN POV - We see the ceiling. Lamp light echo's off the cracks in it. WE SEE a shadow of John's hand smoking his cigarette. CAMERA POV - We see him lying on the bed again, mumbling words. JOHN (From Cyrano DeBergerac, deeply felt, gently) He would drown the stage with tears And leave the general ear with horrid speech, make mad the guilty and appall the free, confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed the very faculties of eyes and ears. WE SEE a shadow of John's hand smoking his cigarette. JOHN (O.S.) (to himself) Derelict types. Shit. INT. CASTING AGENTS OFFICE - DAY John listens intensely to a man, A CASTING AGENT, RENOLD, 50's, effeminate, a bit overly eccentric, but not from within, it's all a visual game with this guy. RENOLD (bold smile) It's called "SHARKBAIT CRIMEBOSS". JOHN Sharkbait...? RENOLD "...CRIMEBOSS". JOHN A new concept? RENOLD Catchy title. Everything helps get those rear ends onto those cushions. You're lucky you even got a chance to read for me. You know why I say that? JOHN No. RENOLD Every actor in New York and L.A. wants this part. You know who's the lead, don't you? And so they'd do anything for it. Kill their mothers for it--but who doesn't want to kill their mother? (horrid, huge laugh, teeth are completely exposed) But guess what? John Hamlet makes a face - "what?" RENOLD You're reading for it, lucky you. Are you ready? JOHN Sure. RENOLD (bigger bold smile) GREAT! WE SEE his mouth from JOHN'S POV RENOLD'S MOUTH He's a killer, a murderer, a rapist. Tough, mean, awesomely perverse. A slimebucket. Do you want more? JOHN Italian? RENOLD'S MOUTH Who else? JOHN Anyone... RENOLD MOUTH Costra Nostra, as usual. You know. But I don't want a cliche. Okay? I hate clichés. John Hamlet nods. RENOLD Okay then. Strut your stuff. CU of John reading. JOHN (centers himself, and reads from script. Italian thug) "Look Vinney, da son of a bitch's gotta be tawt a lesson, I tink we oughta castrate the S.O.B., den cement him ta da bottom of da fuckin' Hudson, whaddyasay? RENOLD (O.S.) Very nice. Uh, could you try making it a bit more... (whispers) blatant? JOHN More blatant? RENOLD (O.S.) Yes. It's a BIG movie. (chuckles) Big. Sort of Jaws and The Godfather combined. Awesome. JOHN Bigger... (sarcastic) I'm having trouble with that. RENOLD (O.S.) I understand. Let's see if I can help. Um.... (sincerely) Like a big, fat... Oh I don't know... turd?! Pause. John Hamlet just stares at him, and he at John. Then John smiles. JOHN (smiling sarcastically) Turd! RENOLD (O.S.) Turd-ish? JOHN That's not specific enough for me. RENOLD (O.S.) What do you mean? JOHN I need a specific type... of turd. RENOLD (O.S.) Oh... JOHN (eyes widening) I know... Like that huge pile of dinosaur dung in Jurassic park that Laura Dern had to put her whole arm into. How's that? RENOLD (O.S.) Love it. Love the way you work. Marsha told me you were talented. JOHN And Marsha knows her stuff. RENOLD O.S.) (a joke) Let's do the dung! (big laugh) JOHN (playing along) I can't wait. (reading from script with the DUNG choice) "Look Vinney, da son of a bitch's gotta be tawt a lesson, I tink we oughta castrate the S.O.B., den cement him ta da bottom of da fuckin' Hudson, whaddyasay? RENOLD (O.S.) Yes yes yes! That was wonderful. Now, just for fun... could you add, a touch of UGHK (makes a gesture) You know, more UGHK!!! JOHN Like DUNG with PUKE mixed in. RENOLD (O.S.) Yes! JOHN And some, what? RENOLD (0.S.) I don't know... JOHN ...Something like... Herpes with an infection! RENOLD (O.S.) (excited) YES!...BUT WITH DINOSAUR DUNG--DON'T FORGET TO ADD THAT TO IT, OKAY? JOHN O... Kay... (reading from script, huge, overdone, ridiculously large) "Look Vinney, da son of a bitch's gotta be tawt a lesson, I tink we oughta castrate the S.O.B., den cement him ta da bottom of da fuckin' Hudson, whaddyasay? RENOLD LOVE IT, JOHN, LOVE IT LOVE IT LOVE IT! But... could you try um... more thugish, cliche... JOHN ...You said, you hated cliches... RENOLD ...Oh... (a bit defensive, slowly explaining) But when I said "no cliches", I didn't mean, no cliches in the cliched sense of the word. I meant it in a very original, unique, sort of way. Do you know what I mean? JOHN (trying to stay cool) You meant a unique cliche as opposed to..? RENOLD ...An imitated one! John, smiling, just looks at Renold. RENOLD (very sincerely) Do you know what I mean or am I confusing you? John, smiling, shakes his head "no". RENOLD Are you all right? You look a bit... JOHN ...No, no. I'm... I'm... (thinks) ...But you know, I'm having a little trouble with that direction, too... RENOLD (thinks really hard) Okay I've got it. (big pause) Rocky Balboa kicked in the nuts! (nodding, "isn't that great?") John cracks up at the absurdity, but Renold doesn't catch on. They laugh together as: RENOLD ...with a touch of... Bogart, uh, Terminator, Eastwoodish, Bronsonian... Cliffhanger, Terminator, Rambo-like... but WITH the DUNG CHOICE... you know? And keep it original... John just looks at him. Bursts out laughing. Stops and tries to control himself. RENOLD Something wrong? JOHN (smile) No no no. You're being REALLY very clear. (reading from script. So big and stupid, you want to run from the theatre) "Look Vinney, da son of a bitch's gotta be tawt a lesson, I tink we oughta castrate the... RENOLD (interrupting JOYOUSLY) ...THAT'S IT! Wonderful wonderful wonderful! Oh John, I tell you, it's so good to be working with a responsive actor. JOHN Twenty years of training and experience, well, Renold, when you're faced with a talent like yourself and whoever wrote this... this work, I feel like it wasn't a complete waste of my one and only human life, you know? (falsely laughing) RENOLD I know. This part, well, it's that type of established role that will get you noticed. Isn't that exciting, who knows, you could be a star. Oh, you don't have a ... thing ... about nudity, do you? JOHN Not if it's relevant. RENOLD Of course it's relevant. People want to see how well your hung? It's all about who's fuckable... I meant, bankable. (laughs) Just kidding. (laughs) John stares at him with half a smile. Renold waits with a "well, aren't you going to leave", smile. HARD CUT TO: WHEELS OF A SUBWAY TRAIN, THE ROAR OF THE SUBWAY. INT. SUBWAY John Hamlet sitting staring ahead in disbelief. People surround him, burnt out. MUSIC. EXT. N.Y. CITY STREET - DAY Busy street scene. From the distance, WE SEE JOHN walking toward the camera, he is very upset, he passes the camera. The CAMERA remains still, as we watch the people pass in every direction in a mad rush. THE CAMERA SNAPS AROUND FAST. WE SEE JOHN from behind, turn and enters a building. INT. CLOTHING STORE - DAY John is talking to a customer. Anther man (JIM), 25-years old, dressed in a three piece business suit, groomed like an Italian in love, approaches him. JIM (arrogantly) Mr. Capitaldi, wants to see you in his office. JOHN Now? JIM (the look) Right now, I'll take care of him. John pauses. Then moves down a long aisle. INT. MR. CAPITALDI'S OFFICE - DAY MR. CAPITALDI, a middle aged, burnt out, but financially secure business man, sits behind a large mahogany desk. The door opens, John enters, bored, not nervous. He stops by the door, leans in the entrance and they look at one another awkwardly. MR. CAPITALDI You look like a derelict. JOHN Thank you. My agent will be thrilled. MR. CAPITALDI This is a clothing store, you've got to wear nice clothes. One and one makes two. It's not like you have to buy 'em for Chrissakes. Just take something off the rack and be sure to return it before you go home if you're too poor, or cheap to buy yourself something that makes you look halfway human. CU of Mr. Capitaldi, an image of everything that can go wrong, including his tight suit, tie almost strangling him, and his very neat hairpiece-hairdo hiding an otherwise unaware and unhappy man. MR. CAPITALDI It makes me feel uneasy, kid, you understand? If you can't do a simple little thing like wear some nice clothes, a suit and a tie, get a trim and be polite to the schmucks who shop here, then... I don't know... you know what I'm saying? JOHN It's difficult not to. MR. CAPITALDI I give you time to run off and play Mr. Actor, don't I? JOHN No... MR. CAPITALDI ...I pay you for the day, don't I? JOHN ...No. You pay me by the hour... MR. CAPITALDI ... because I appreciate the arts. My little girl there, she's in band. JOHN ...You don't pay me for the day... MR. CAPITALDI ...But... well it's a business, you know? JOHN (pause) I hate ties. And suits. They don't express who I am nside? MR. CAPITALDI What do I give a shit about who you are inside--what the fuck does that mean, anyway..? I want you in a suit that's all I'm saying. This is a clothing store. Clothes. Suit. One and one... We've been through this. JOHN Your store. MR. CAPITALDI Right, and all along I thought you were, you know... JOHN ...You built it from nothing. It is, you. My existence is expendable to the store. MR. CAPALDI Wonderful. I luv ya. You remembered. Now go. Be an artist. Sell anything to anyone who wants it. Tell 'em how great they look, even if they look like a piece of dog poo dragged all over the living room carpet, and please... put on a tie. JOHN Ties are upside down nooses to me. John demonstrates with Mr. Capitaldi's tie, lifting the bottom up, and fake hanging him. Capitaldi pulls at it but can't tear it away from John's grip. MR. CAPITALDI Hey. Let go mister! JOHN (not letting go) Or ties are just a fabricated symbol of the male dick! One more yank and Capitaldi's free. And angry. John whips a large, red stripped tie off the rack by Capaldi's desk. He demonstrates by hanging the tie by his penis, the tie hanging down to the floor like a huge dick. JOHN See? But not just any dick. A well-hung dick. That's why men wear ties, Mr. Capitaldi. They all have a secret need to have a huge dick. CU of MR. CAPITALDI, self conscious of his very loud, large tie. JOHN (V.O.) Makes 'em feel well-hung! Phallic, Mr. Capitaldi, it's all phallic, psychological stuff, like nuclear bombs, designed in the image of the male penis and men who can't ejaculate anymore because they've suppressed themselves too long and too much, need a great, big, bangeroo, and because they're so suppressed, Mr. Capitaldi, every fucking minute of their pathetic lives, "do you know what I'm saying?," they want to believe they are sexually potent, and be well hung! We're on John now. JOHN But because they're not well-hung, and really only human beings, not nuclear war heads in harness, and only have an ordinary male dick, that's where the tie comes in. But there's another ingredient to the toxic potion of man's supressability... SUITS! (by Capitaldi as if selling his suit to a customer, effeminate clothing salesman) Suits are nothing more than designer straight jackets, which, offer the average suppressed male living in the land of the free, an opportunity to fulfill their suppression, while simultaneously unifying it with the other nuclear warheads in harness or better known as the other inmates of the prison/institution, sharing their own phallic fear of being small dicked, and not being able to escape their phallic-suppression- male-mania, secretly want to hang themselves! Thus, SUITS AND TIES! CU of Mr. Capitaldi's tie and suit, and embarrassed face. MR. CAPITALDI (voiced) How the fuck, may I ask, would you fucking know how big my dick is anyway? You fuckin' around with my wife? Stands up behind desk. Belly hanging over belt. JOHN It was a metaphor. MR. CAPITALDI Well fuck you and fuck metaphors. JOHN You can't fuck a metaphor, Mr. Capitaldi, with ANY size dick. It's beyond dicks. MR. CAPITALDI I ain't suppressed and I got a nice size cock, okay..? JOHN ...Glad to hear it... MR. CAPITALDI (very angry) ...not that it's any of your Godamned business, but I always made the women scream in my day-- and even now, too, tie or no fucking tie! Because I, got a big, big, motherfucker-of-a-dick! Bigger than yours I bet! Wanna bet? Do you understand me? JOHN Dick to match the tie? MR. CAPITALDI (furious) YES!!! JOHN You're really impressive. MR. CAPITALDI (furious) Fuck you! Now... put on a suit and tie or ya OUT! Ties are our specialty. Got 'em from all over the fucking world, okay? So, once and for fucking all... Fuck you. Okay? Fuck you. Now that's all I got to say to you. Except I do this for my daughter. So fuck you. JOHN (feminine, southern voice) Thanks for the offer but I like small dicks myself. Those big nasty dickeys jus' beat the shit outta me, honey. MR. CAPITALDI YOU'RE A FUCKIN' LUNATIC AN' YOU'RE ALSO FUCKIN' FIRED YOU ASSHOLE-AND-A-HALF! JOHN (still a southern, feminine voice) What a loss of employment opportunity. Hey, Stanley, two things before I make my final exit: Change the name of the store to PHALLIC CITY, an' when those nice virgin bells come--a ringin' on in here, like Blanche Dubuois (imitating him) make 'em mincemeat inside, pal! (laughs) MR. CAPITALDI (red faced) JIMMY, KICK THIS ASSHOLE OUTTA MY STORE! John exits smiling. WE FOLLOW HIM. Jim is stunned as are a few of the customers who overheard them. INT. JOHN'S ROOM - NIGHT The Oscar's are on John's very old, large, cabinet color T.V. we see the Glitz, the awards and the glamour. Star after star emerge from limos while flashes from cameras make the room look like it's under a strobe. John's girlfriend, SHARON, 30, very pretty, is on the couch, wine in hand. JOHN This script, SHARKBAIT CRIMEBOSS, would be useful as toilet paper, we'll use it, and save some money, Whadyathink, babe? SHARON I think it really, really, really, really, sucked. It's a blood-bath wrapped in celluloid. Complete garbage. JOHN I'm out of work, broke, it's Oscar material, we want to move in together, you have two kids and there are three huge names attached to the project. SHARON If you can just look beyond the words, descriptions, two dimensional characters lacking humanity, actions, or the actual paper it's written on--I think you should do it. JOHN Oscar material? SHARON Absolutely. John looks at the TV, throws the script across the room and jumps up, standing on top of the old TV, the Oscars raging beneath him on it. An actor making his acceptance speech. ----------------------------------------------------- TO READ THE REST OF THIS PLAY CONTACT THE PLAYWRIGHT CONTACT INFORMATION IS AT THE TOP OF THIS PAGE. I used to have the full text on the site but too many people used them without paying fair royalties etc. MS Word Fully Formatted version of this play is available for production after payment for scripts and royalties are made. 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