Border Wars
Cast
Will “Wolf” Smart, FBI agent. High-strung, given to pessimistic outbursts, a self-created legend in his own mind. Dressed well (i.e., cheap gray suit, white shirt, tie) though this should decay through the scene.
Allison Crosby, FBI agent, Wolf’s partner (female). Efficient, worldly, bored with Wolf’s hysterics, always surprised he doesn’t lead them to death and disaster. Never less than perfectly coiffed. // Also plays OSD…in gauzy dress.
Bartender. Will serve drinks, polish glasses. Never a reaction expression. Never says a word.
Comedian
Clown. Angry. Cynical. Can be vile. Has to do a corny magic act in this cheap dump, which angers him. He is willing to take out all his anger on anyone in sight. Small dog with him (Maybelle).
A Couple, Man and Woman
Drunk Guy at bar
Go-go dancer
Random other drinkers in the bar
Throughout, there will be jumps to a black and white image of a pocket watch, counting down a final hour…
And can put in Comedian voice at any breaks…
A bar. Will have a long wooden counter. An old dusty envelope tacked to the wall up behind the bar. An old-style juke-box off to one side. A stage, currently occupied by the Comedian.
Set-up
Wolf and Crosby enter the bar.
Wolf: So, [interesting name] was a junior associate of Herman Kahn, back in the 60s.
Crosby: History bores me. Can’t we just shoot all these yahoos and find a martini bar?
Wolf: Kahn. Mr. Nuclear War. He was considered to be the model for Dr. Strangelove. I love that movie. Can you imagine riding an atomic bomb straight out of a plane? All that power, right between your legs!
Crosby [pinches his cheek]: Aw, is our little Chillie-Williedreaming bigger than his britches again?
Wolf: don’t call me Willie. I hate Willie. The name is Wolf. [Crosby snickers.] Anyway, when [interesting name] —
Crosby: was even more boring? Wrote a dull book that got him shot or exiled here?
Wolf: um, no. He was a Pentagon liaison who sort of, how to say this nicely? Sort of, oh, helped the U.S. lose about 2 dozen nuclear bombs. Maybe a little bit of a Russian spy. Maybe East German. Whatever. Since [interesting name] was from Kansas, he planted them all here in Missouri, with a 50-year trigger.
Crosby: Missouri?
Wolf: Kansas. Football. Basketball. That Civil War thing. Duh. Anyway, after a life of luxury and successful blackmail, XX repented and just before he died, told us that this bar had the audio key to neutralize the bombs.
Crosby: I read the file. So our one clue is music and “magic.” I’ll ask that suspicious character [points to Writer, leaning on jukebox].
[Pocket watch, further along in the hour, still ticking…]
Wolf-clown
[Wolf looks around, a little lost, then crosses over to the Clown, seated at far right, as if watching the Comedian across the room.]
Wolf [pulls out his i.d., flashes it at Clown]: I’m Agent Smart, with the FBI.
Clown [chuckles and grabs the i.d.]: No way. Agent Smart. Let me see the phone in your shoe.
Wolf [grabs his i.d.]: I go by Wolf. Wolf Smart. What do you know about magic?
Clown: Wanna see me pull a rabbit out of my ass?
Wolf: No, I need to—no.
[Clown reaches around and pull out a small dog.]
Wolf: That’s not a rabbit.
Clown [picks up dog and stares her in the face, as if he’s never seen her before]: Damn, you’re a regular Sherlock. Wanna help me put her back in the kennel?
Wolf: Sir, I don’t want to have to get physical here. I’m on an urgent case.
Clown [in mock horror at the “threat”]: I file my teeth!
Wolf: Ok, that’s it. Hands on the wall, spread your legs.
Clown [makes throaty cat noise]: now we’re getting someplace… [Wolf searches the Clown.] Want to paint my toenails?
Wolf [finishes search and turns away]: That’s not funny.
Clown: Why does everyone hate clowns? I’m not Chucky. I don’t crap on people’s lawn. I don’t piss in people’s beef stew. I never ate a kid I didn’t like. [Wolf tries to ignore him.]
[Pocket watch, further along in the hour, still ticking…]
Crosby-Writer
[Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Crosby interviews the Writer. She will have out a notepad or some cool electronic upgrade of that.]
Writer: So, basically, this whole case is just about finding some audio clue, like on Jeopardy, then no doubt tapping in the right song title in the old standard jukebox here, and then the hidden microphones all over the room pick up the song, the bombs de-fuse, end of story. Right?
Crosby: Yes, sir, that seems to be the storyline.
Writer: Well, that’s boring. Not a thriller. There isn’t even a plot. Flat. Dull. No Emmy nominations here. [He leans closer to her.] What you need is the classic well-made play. Standard story arc.
Crosby: There is an actual bomb threat.
Writer [shakes his head]: No reason to be boring. You need the basic exposition, set up the situation, the basic tension, introduce your characters. Then some complications…
Clown [We overhear Clown still calling out to Wolf]: Give my best to Agent 69. Wanna see my tongue? What’s your favorite lingerie?
Crosby [as if taking notes]: uh-huh.
Writer: Rising action for a scene or two, leading to a big confrontation and major climax, and then the ‘denouement’…
Crosby: Uh-huh. Sir…
Writer: Oh, and you have to put in the OSD, in relation to the main protagonist. [He pauses, hoping she’ll ask. She doesn’t.] The OSD? [Sighs]. The Obligatory Sexual Distraction. A distraction, yet a key turn that points the hero in the right direction, almost by accident.
Crosby: I like that.
Writer: And stick with a straight-forward story line. None of that self-reflexive, postmodern crap. Don’t bring up every TV show and movie that pops into your head. Like here, don’t mention The Untouchables, or CSI or Law and Order. And like in your story, don’t even consider mentioning The Sum of All Fears and all that agent Jack Ryan crap. Your characters have to stand on their own.
Crosby [drifting away from Writer, mumbling to herself]: I wonder what an OSD would wear in a bar like this?
Wolf-Drunk
[Wolf has wandered to the bar, where he nods to Bartender, unacknowledged, then talks to Drunk Guy. Already seated and mid-conversation when we turn back to them.]
Drunk guy to Wolf: Magic? Yeah, that ran out 20 years ago, when I got married and divorced three times in the same week. [Wolf looks away.] Wound up with two kids, child support andgonorrhea in my ass.
Wolf [standing]: Thank you for your time, sir. I—
Drunk Guy [points across toward jukebox]: Whoa. Is that dame your partner?
Wolf [stares, gawks, starts over…] Crosby?
Wolf-OSD
Crosby-as-OSD [draped across jukebox in gauzy gown, lipstick, martini glass, whatever looks over-the-top old movie seductress. She beckons toward Wolf. He approaches and she flaunts around him]: All this time, Wolf, and I’ve never been able to tell you… [she whispers in his ear, etc.]
Wolf [nervous]: Crosby, we’re on a case. We have to stay focused.
Crosby-as-OSD [some seductive gesture, lick, whatever]: I am focused.
Clown from across the room: You go girl!
Wolf: We’re about to be vaporized in an atomic blast.
Crosby-as-OSD [she starts loosening his tie]: Then our particles will be mingled forever and forever, in that radiant cloud.
Wolf [he tries to repair his tie]: If we could just put this on hold for a few minutes…
[flash to the pocketwatch, ticking down the hour…]
Crosby-as-OSD [seducing/pushing him back over the jukebox]: If only you could figure out how to find the right music…
Wolf [glances and finally realizes there is a jukebox]: That’s it, Crosby! I just have to play the right song! Something with magic. [He pushes her aside. Out of our sight, she will go sit at the bar, in her regular professional clothes.]
Wolf [tries to think of song titles, poking at the jukebox]: [he rattles off a bunch of titles…, increasingly frustrated.]
Wolf-breakdown
Wolf: Music. Why does it always have to be music? I hate music. [he backs away from jukebox, staggering into center space.]
[Round of faces/voices saying song lines at him. Think 60s TV version of what a bad acid trip would be.]
_______ : Hate myself for loving you…
Clown: Tequila makes my clothes come off
Woman:
Man: Blood on your face, big disgrace
Clown: you don’t have to call me darlin’, darlin’
Drunk Guy: ust another brick in the wall
Writer: The end of the world, as you know it
Etc.
[hmm—somehow here work in that song, “Willie” by Sweet, with Wolf collapsing to floor, into fetal position. Go-go dancer dances around and then over him. Clown comes over to stare down.
Wolf [on floor, extreme self-dramatizing]: Magic! [quotesBlanche from Streetcar]; “I don't want realism. I want magic! Yes, yes, magic! I try to give that to people. I misrepresent things to them. [rises up part way as he gets into the speech] I don't tell the truth, I tell what ought to be the truth. And it that's sinful, then let me be damned for it!” [slips back to the floor after drama-queen moment]
Crosby: He’s channeling his inner diva.
Clown: Inner? I could give him some lipstick and stockings and rent him out on south 7th for 250 an hour. [nudges at Wolfwith his foot]
[Meanwhile, Crosby over at the bar. Sitting. Seems bored with Wolf’s hysterics. She turns to Bartender. Gets a drink.]
Crosby, to Bartender: It’s a shame, me ending up like this. Vaporized in a dive bar, just because my partner’s a desperate diva who can’t get over himself.
[Drunk guy is being noisy, trying to get Bartender’s attention.]
[Bartender, doesn’t say anything. Pulls envelope off wall, hands to Crosby.]
Crosby [reads envelope]: “For the most desperate guy on earth…” [opens envelope and reads] “from the most miserable guy on earth—a bit of magic…4545-444.” And it’s signed[interesting name]. Hey, Wolf. Look. Magic.
Wolf [stops his sniffling on the floor, jumps up, rushes over, snatches envelope and note from Crosby]: I knew I’d find it. The Bureau can always count on me. That’s why I get the hard cases. [reads note]. Here’s the code. [runs to jukebox] This will do it. [types in 4 numbers]. Nothing. Why are there 7numbers here? [Throws note on floor.] This doesn’t even match this damn machine. They probably changed it out years ago. We’re all gonna die. A string of nuclear explosions from Kansas to St. Louis, Springfield to Hannibal. It’ll be The Day After—“ There ain't no Sedalia!” We’ll be back in the dark ages…Kansas will win. No rematch!
Crosby [has followed him over. Picks up note]: Just type in the rest. [reads aloud as she does]: 4-5-4-5, 4-4-4.
Wolf [on his cellphone]: It’s over. We’re all dead.
[There’s a click from the jukebox as Crosby types the last number in, and music starts.]: “Somewhere, over the rainbow…”
[Old RKO radio emblem, with those little radio waves going out…]
Wolf [still on the phone]: What? The countdown stopped? We’re all saved? Yeah, of course it did. I was just seeing if your nerves could take it….That’s why I’m a field agent, and you all are stuck in the lab. Another last minute save by the Wolf…That’s me. Wolf. Wolf-Smart.
[In background, we see Drunk guy pick up an envelope from the bar, rip it in two, and throw it to the floor]
[Image, pocketwatch stops, 4:59…]
Cast song: <via Toby Keith>
We got winners, we got losers
Chain smokers and boozers
And we got yuppies, we got bikers
We got thirsty hitchhikers
And the girls next door dress up like movie stars
Hmm, hmm, hmm I love this bar
We got cowboys, we got truckers
Broken-hearted fools and suckers
And we got hustlers, we got fighters
Early birds and all-nighters
And the veterans talk about their battle scars
Hmm, hmm, hmm I love this bar
[Chorus:]
I love this bar
It's my kind of place
Just walkin' through the front door
Puts a big smile on my face
It ain't too far, come as you are
Hmm, hmm, hmm I love this bar
I've seen short skirts, we got high-techs
Blue-collar boys and rednecks
And we got lovers, lots of lookers
And I've even seen dancing girls and hookers
And we like to drink our beer from a mason jar
Hmm, hmm, hmm I love this bar
Yes I do
I like my truck (I like my truck)
I like my girlfriend (I like my girlfriend)
I like to take her out to dinner
I like a movie now and then
But I love this bar
It's my kind of place
Just trollin' around the dance floor
Puts a big smile on my face
No cover charge, come as you are
Hmm, hmm, hmm I love this bar
Hmm, hmm, hmm I love this bar
Ok, I fixed the google doc link. Scripts there, easier to read.
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