Cast
an Angel, split in two, Right self [talks business,
drinks scotch on the rocks], Left self [talks ecology, drinks beer] Both shirtless, at least…
Bartender.
Will serve drinks, polish glasses.
Never a reaction expression. Never a nod. Never says a word.
A Couple, Man and Woman
Drunk Guy at bar, occasional outbursts, and after
every drink or so, picking up a page or two of his stack of manuscript pages,
and shredding them, tossing them on floor, bar, etc.
FBI-ish agent
Waitress
------------------------------ Scene (?) 2 Huh--this might work as part 1. I did set up with envelope, etc. Need to decide how to use Waitress beyond this scene. // I need to add an outburst by Drunk Guy. Hoping to do most of his characterization by similar outbursts in first 3 scenes, and then his part, scene 4, be fairly brief. Will try to write/post that in next hour. bob
[Both halves of the Angel sitting at a table,
watching others in the bar. Each has a
drink. Shirtless.]
Left Angel
[looking at his split form]: This
is kind of fun, like in an old cartoon.
But I don’t think we’re supposed to split like this.
Right Angel [agitated, swirls his drink]: Can’t even drive my SUV of the gods without a
guilt-trip from you. We’ve got an
afternoon off from keeping tally on how much humans suck, and I don’t have to
have all your damned ecology nonsense in my head. Enjoy yourself. At least half of you is…
Left Angel:
[rubs hand across his chest]: It is nice to not be in work clothes—no wings,
no suit, no tie. All those damn
feathers. They itch. But won’t hanging out like this cause, you
know, an incident here?
Right Angel:
Nah. Humans are too stupid to see
anything angelic. How do you think they
got in this situation? Like those two
over there [gestures at Couple]. No hope
for them.
Left Angel [shrugs]:
There’s some chemistry there.
They might wind up humping into eternity.
Right Angel:
Bet? Friendly wager. Those two.
Passionate sex by midnight, or—my guess—one of them guns down the other before
they reach the front door.
Left Angel [they click glasses]: Done.
Right Angel:
And if I win, we’re smoking a big ugly cigar tonight.
[Left Angel shudders, sips beer.]
Right Angel [settles back in his chair, swirls
drink, {Tech-question: any way to make
it look like he causes his own glass to refill?}: Time for humans to admit it—the lease is
up. It’s the big recall. Product out of date. New model on the way. Obsolete.
The big sayonara. Adios. [still photos of fiery conflagrations should
flicker through briefly] One big ball of
fire, soon as we get our orders to torch the place. Where is
that envelope?
Left Angel:
It won’t be fire. No big Russian
missiles, no asteroids. It’s already in the
works. Climate change. Just needs the right tipping point or two, a
little shove on the Greenland ice sheet, total plankton death, and then the
storm to end all storms. Water World.
Into the Storm. Maybe Soylent Green. Whichever—humanity takes itself out. [could
splice in images of tornadoes, ice shelves calving, factory smokestacks, etc.,
as he talks]
Right Angel [shrugs]: If it isn’t the old-fashioned Four Horseman
thing, I’d bet on The Purge. Either way.
Gabriel’s marching orders. Humanity—“too big to fail”? Don’t think so. Here’s my prediction, what I think will be in
the envelope—[we see Right Angel draw paper with glittery writing out of a fire. Lets Left Angel read it]: You want nervous? Be glad you aren’t human.
Left Angel [reads]:
To Whom It May Concern: violation
of lease: Humanity, found in violation
of its Second Covenant, is hereby given Notice that said Covenant is to be
dissolved, forthwith. No more
rainbows. Apocalypse will immediately ensure. Have a nice day.
Right Angel:
Good, huh?
Left Angel: Cliché.
Right Angel:
Dumbshit. There are rules for
ending the world. Even angels of our
rank can’t just do it. I can’t just call in my stock options. Can’t just devalue the currency, write new
terms, double the interest rate. But
wait till we get that envelope. It’s a
done deal. Bank on it…
Both Angels [Both raise their glasses, click in a
toast.]: Peace on Earth!
Left Angel [gestures toward Drunk Guy at bar]: Wanna bet on whether that guy accomplishes
anything else before the big Ka-Boom?
Right Angel [shakes his head]: No way.
He thinks he’s a writer. He won’t
have any impact on the world at all.
[Both laugh.][Drunk guy shreds and tosses several paper pieces of his
manuscript.]
Waitress [approaches, mostly business-like, hair up,
hurried, long day, tired, not a real smile]:
You two ready for another round? [she blinks, looks at them
harder]. Hey, you guys don’t have
clothes on.
Left Angel:
Time out! [all motion in the bar stops]
Do you think she can really see us for what we are?
Right Angel:
Duh. If you weren’t me, I’d kick
your ass. Let’s just blast her with
divine light.
Left Angel [to other self]: You have no imagination. [Stands, holds out
his hand to Waitress.] Time in!
[they dance]
[use whatever part of this to time limits—have the “two” angels spin
waitress back and forth between them, in one spin revealing her rose-tattoo…]
Did you write the book of love
And do you have faith in God above
If the Bible tells you so?
Now do you believe in rock and roll
Can music save your mortal soul
And can you teach me how to dance real slow?
Well, I know that you're in love with him
'Cause I saw you dancin' in the gym
You both kicked off your shoes
Man, I dig those rhythm and blues
I was a lonely teenage broncin' buck
With a pink carnation and a pickup truck
But I knew I was out of luck
The day the music died
[Chorus]
I started singin' bye-bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry
Them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye
Singin' "This'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die"
[Verse 2]
Now for ten years we've been on our own
And moss grows fat on a rollin' stone
But that's not how it used to be
When the jester sang for the king and queen
In a coat he borrowed from James Dean
And a voice that came from you and me
Oh, and while the king was looking down
The jester stole his thorny crown
The courtroom was adjourned
No verdict was returned…
And do you have faith in God above
If the Bible tells you so?
Now do you believe in rock and roll
Can music save your mortal soul
And can you teach me how to dance real slow?
Well, I know that you're in love with him
'Cause I saw you dancin' in the gym
You both kicked off your shoes
Man, I dig those rhythm and blues
I was a lonely teenage broncin' buck
With a pink carnation and a pickup truck
But I knew I was out of luck
The day the music died
[Chorus]
I started singin' bye-bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry
Them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye
Singin' "This'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die"
[Verse 2]
Now for ten years we've been on our own
And moss grows fat on a rollin' stone
But that's not how it used to be
When the jester sang for the king and queen
In a coat he borrowed from James Dean
And a voice that came from you and me
Oh, and while the king was looking down
The jester stole his thorny crown
The courtroom was adjourned
No verdict was returned…
Left Angel [sits back in his chair, pulls Waitress
onto his lap, kisses rose on her shoulder]:
I think you belong with us. Stick
around for the big show.
Waitress: __________________ [depends on how used in other sections,
whether she stays there or not or simply “re-assembles” her uniform and goes on]…
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