I exhale
As I watch the blood slowly mix in with the bathwater
You deserve this
In the winter everyone wears long sleeves
Origins
written and directed
by
David Walker
Inspired
by
the films of
Quentin Tarantino
David Lynch
&
Rob Zombie
There is method
To his madness
January 2013
first draft
1. EXT. Run down project apartment complex - 3:00 am
A dark, tall figure with long black hair and a trenchcoat opens the already cracked red door.
MAN:
I'm looking for love in all the wrong places.
CUT TO:
INT. Apartment 3
A typical roach infested apartment with a kitchen built into the living room. 3 GIRLS are on the kitchen floor. GIRL # 1 one has black hair with big lips and a curvy frame and she is wearing a pair of Tripp pants and a black bra barely covering her ample bosom. She has a flesh colored rubber hose tied to her left arm. GIRL # 2 has dyed rainbow colored hair, a nice smile, and a skinny frame. She is wearing a pair of tore blue jeans with smiley faces and cute in jokes written on them, also not wearing a shirt with a lacy blue bra on. She has a spoon with water and black tar heroin inside it which she is heating up with a silver Zippo with the word "Skittles" engraved into it. GIRL # 3 Has long naturally red hair, glasses and an extremely voluptuous figure. She is wearing tight black pants and a black shirt with thin sleeves. She is inspecting a covered syringe with an unsure look in her eyes.
GIRL # 2:
So, do you wanna do it or not Jane?
Snatches the syringe out of JANE's hand.
JANE:
I'm not sure. How long have you been doing this shit?
Girl #2 takes the orange cap off the syringe revealing a small needle.
GIRL #2:
Since after I graduated. About 3 years. Liz you ready?
LIZ:
As ready as I am for dat sweet tang!
Girl #2 giggles. She sticks the needle into Liz's arm, blood mixes with the brown fluid inside, and she pushes the plunger down. Liz leans back into Girl #2's arms and Girl #2 gives her a kiss.
LIZ:
I love you, Julia.
JULIA:
Well, I love you too.
JANE:
You guys are so gay!
(OS):
Save that shit for the fucking customers!
CUT TO:
Other side of room. A greasy looking MAN with short faded black hair and a scar going from the corner of his mouth to the right ear is sitting in a beat up recliner cleaning his Uberti 1873 Cattleman revolver while smoking a fat blunt and watching some kind of high budget porn with Sasha Grey in it.
JULIA:
Sorry, Mike. It didn't stop you from leaving me and Liz unsatisfied and bored, did it?
LIZ and JULIA laugh. JANE has a nervous look in her eyes.
MIKE:
Very fucking funny you wore out trick! Am I gonna have to smack the sass out yo mouth?
MIKE gets up, puts out his blunt and walks over to the GIRLS gun in hand.
MIKE:
Or am I gonna have to give your little friend a scar like mine.
LIZ:
Mike don't!
MIKE SLAPS JULIA with the side of his UNLOADED revolver and grabs JANE by her hair.
MIKE:
Who the fuck are you, anyways bitch?
JANE:
(stuttering)
I was walking down the street earlier today and I ran into Julia and Liz. They went to school with my sister I think. Let me go!
MIKE:
So you're a young'n. Well you have some nice big titties!
MIKE RIPS off her shirt exposing her breasts. He begins to squeeze the right one. JANE SLAPS MIKE HARD!
MIKE:
Bitch!
MIKE lets go of her hair. Jane runs to the other room grabbing her shirt. LIZ stumbles towards him and PUNCHES him in the nose.
MIKE:
That's it! You little cum dumpsters are dead!
MIKE picks up the REVOLVER, runs to the chair where the bullets are and tries to reload. JULIA wakes from her daze. We see him load 3 rounds. All of a sudden the DOOR gets broken down and the dark clad FIGURE from the scene before pulls out a BERETTA M9 with a silencer attachment. MIKE FIRES 2 shots at him haphazardly missing both. The MAN LAUGHS and FIRES one shot that MIKE's crotch catches.
CUT TO:
2. INT. Next door in Apartment 2.
A MAN and WOMAN in their early 40's are smoking a joint and seem disturbed by the gunfire.
MAN:
(coughing)
What the hell was that?
WOMAN:
Sounded like gunshots. Do you think we should call the cops?
MAN:
Fuck no! There is a pound of chronic in the bedroom closet! Just pray whoever it is doesn't come over here!
WOMAN:
Okay. Are you gonna pass that?
CUT TO:
3. INT. Apartment 3.
The smoke has cleared. MIKE is begging for death and BLEEDING out everywhere, JULIA is in a daze, dumbfounded by what she just witnessed, LIZ is cowering in fear, crying, and JANE just came out of the bedroom with her TORN SHIRT on and a terrified "Oh my God" expression. The unknown assailant has a devilish grin upon his face.
MIKE:
Godfuck! Kill me you sunuvabitch! Godda--
The MAN obliges. He fires a single shot into his RIGHT EYE.
MAN:
Well, looks like I got here in the nick of time!
JULIA:
(blankly)
W-Who the fuck are you?
MAN:
That is of little importance right now. Who are you foxy ladies?
JULIA:
M-My name's Julia. That girl over there (points to Liz) is Liz, and the ginger is Jane.
MAN:
What pretty names! Well, I have a question. Will you three lovely young ladies gather round that despicable looking chair and listen to what I have to say, or are you going to run? Keep in mind I have rope in my trenchcoat and the fact I mean you no harm. I am just a lonely man with a story to tell, and the way I see it, what with that bruise on your sweet face, you kinda owe me.
JULIA:
I think we can stay. I just wanna know your name.
MAN:
Ahh, but I am a man of many names. My christian name is Derek. You don't need the last for now.
DEREK walks to the chair and sits down. He waves the GIRLS over.
DEREK:
C'mon I just want to tell my tale. Look, I will put the gun under the chair as a sign of good faith that neither you girls or I will start shooting the place up again. Are we square ladies?
JULIA:
What do ya say guys?
They gather in the kitchen.
LIZ:
This guy has a screw loose.
JULIA:
Yes, but he saved us from our pimp. We should humor him.
JANE:
I think he is hot!
LIZ and JULIA just stare at JANE.
JANE:
Sorry, but he is.
JULIA:
So it's agreed. We will listen to his story, silently pray he doesn't rape us and leave afterwards.
The GIRLS walk to the chair. DEREK has lit the blunt.
DEREK:
Ahh, so you have decided to join me. Good. Do you guys wanna hit this?
LIZ and JULIA shake their heads no.
JANE:
I will.
DEREK:
Great. Now, where do I begin. I suppose everybody's roots stem from childhood, so lets go back, oh say, 20 years ago.
FADE TO BLACK
Against black, TITLE CARD
October 15th 1995.
CUT TO
4. EXT. Suburbia circa 1995.
There are three boys between the ages of 6 and 9 playing in front of a grey HOUSE with a white MINIVAN in the driveway. Little DEREK is a scrawny 6 year old boy with short brown hair and a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles action figure in his hands. The 2 other BOYS ages 7 and 9 are picking on him and trying to take away DONATELLO.
DEREK:
Leave me alone or I will whoop your butt.
BOY #1:
Whatever! You are scrawny and lame. Give us your Ninja Turtle now or we will beat you up!
BOY #2 picks up a STICK and starts hitting DEREK with it.
BOY #2:
What are you going to do? Get your daddy? Oh, wait...that's right, you don't have one!
The 2 BULLIES start laughing. A look of hatred fills young DEREK's eyes. He catches the STICK and slaps BOY #2 in the face with it. He then tackles him and starts beating him mercilessly. BOY #1 runs towards the PORCH and knocks on the DOOR. DEREK'S MOM answers. She is in her mid 30's with brown hair and casual clothing on, smoking a cigarette and drinking a cup of "coffee."
BOY #2:
Derek's beating up Josh again!
DEREK'S MOM:
Well, good for him! Bet that little pecker snot deserved it too. Now, Brad...why don't you take you and your friend on home before I tell your dad you play with Barbies.
LATE 20'S DEREK:
(OS)
My mother was a sweet ol' broad!
BRAD:
(sighs)
Okay, Ms. Walters, but you do know you are going to have to pull him offa Josh right?
DEREK'S MOM:
(sighs like Brad)
I suppose.
DEREK'S MOM and BRAD walk to the front yard and GASP when they notice that DEREK has knocked out 2 of JOSH'S baby teeth, both in the front and broke his nose, which is bleeding profusely.
DEREK'S MOM:
Derek Charles Walters! Get the fuck up offa him!
DEREK:
(crying)
He hit me with a stick!
DEREK'S MOM:
Well, now I'm about to!
She picks up the STICK and beats his ass with it several times.
DEREK:
Fuck you bitch!
DEREK'S MOM, infuriated throws the stick down and SLAPS him across the face. DEREK runs away.
He runs to a wooded area in the back yard as far as his legs can take him.
LATE 20'S DEREK:
(OS)
Do not weep, for on that day, I met God and Satan incarnate and it turns out they existed singularly in my head.
CUT TO:
5. JANE:
Like a conscience?
DEREK:
Much more. These guys are in the room right now and only I can see him. Satan led me to you guys tonight! Who knows what kind of CRAZY hijinks are in store!
JULIA:
That's it I'm outta here! C'mon gu--
DEREK fires of his M9 1 time.
DEREK:
Now, listen to me you dykey, junkie whore. I have 3 more rounds in this motherfucker and one
of them is reserved for you if you don't sit your tight ass back down.
JULIA sits back down scared to death. DEREK regains his composure and is "all smiles" again.
DEREK:
Phew! I don't want to hurt anybody. I just want someone pretty to listen to my fucking story. Fuck, if you want, I will ask you guys about yourself later on, but for now I'm going to introduce you to my best friends.
JANE:
Who are they again?
DEREK:
Ah, you were trying to pay attention. I will remember that. They go by many names. One can be called "God", "Heroic Harry", "The White Knight", whatever you envision as good, this mofo is it. He is the reason you guys are still alive.
LIZ:
And the other?
DEREK:
Ahh, him. He can go by "Satan", "The Rapist", "The Angel of Death." He's the reason ol' crusty here no longer bothers you.
LIZ:
So you're basically ape shit, right?
DEREK:
Pretty much! Now where was I? Ah...yes
CUT TO:
6. INT. Small wooded area behind the house --- Early evening.
DEREK has made himself a nice little HANGOUT in the woods! there is a trunk with tons of comics in it, an arsenal of sharpened sticks and rocks, Batman action figures, and a Game Boy Color. He is drawing a picture at the moment.
LATE 20'S DEREK:
(OS)
There I was in my element. Pissed at my mother, then all of a sudden, a deep, angelic voice rang out.
VOICE #1:
(OS...of course)
You don't have to hate her, you know. She loves you.
LATE 20'S DEREK:
(OS)
And then another, this voice sounding more playful and mischievous then the other.
VOICE #2:
(OS)
But, for how long? Do you think she meant to have you?
DEREK:
Where are you guys?
LATE 20'S DEREK:
(OS)
And then they appeared.
A 13 YEAR OLD BOY with BROWN hair and a FLANNEL overshirt over a Nirvana T-SHIRT with baggy torn blue JEANS with stains on them appears.
BOY #1:
Don't hate your mom.
VOICE #2:
(OS)
But, watch her close.
DEREK turns his head. We see another BOY roughly the same age with slightly long BLACK hair and a TRENCHCOAT over a Nine Inch Nails T-SHIRT with tight black CHICK PANTS with a CHAIN leading from his pocket to his BELT. He has a lip piercing and he is smoking a cigarette.
DEREK:
Who are you guys?
BOY #1:
Just think of us as older brothers your mom can't see.
DEREK:
Wow! I should introduce you guys to my friends!
BOY #2:
No!
DEREK:
Why not?
BOY #2:
You are the only person that can see us. Don't go telling anyone and don't talk to us in front of anyone. People will think you are nuts!
BOY #1:
Think of us as two ghosts that give you advice. Don't listen to him though, he'll get you in trouble.
BOY #2:
Shut up! Or I will kick your ass again.
BOY #1:
Not in front of him. He doesn't need to see that shit. Not now
DEREK:
What are your names?
BOY #1:
That's up to you.
DEREK:
I'll call you Joe, and him Jerry.
JOE:
Works for me, for now. Call us whatever you feel like calling us whenever you like. If you wanna call me butthole and him poophead, go right ahead.
DEREK:
Okay, but for now you guys are Joe and Jerry.
JOE:
We are going to leave now. We will show up when we think the time is right. Sometimes you will see us others you won't, but we are always with you.
JERRY:
Even when you poop.
CUT TO:
7. INT. Apartment 3.
LATE 20'S DEREK:
And then I went back home and they disappeared. I reconciled with my mom and for the next few weeks I didn't see them. Brad started hanging out with me again and school was good. The years go by and still no sight of them. 4 years pass by. It's 1999 and my tastes changed. Instead of Ninja Turtles and Batman it was KISS and Freddy Krueger. By this point me and Josh had made up and Brad was in middle school. And so we go to where me and the voices meet again.
8. INT. Taft Elementary
A class of roughly 25 children in your average 5th grade home room with a stout middle aged gentleman teaching. JOSH and DEREK are in the back row sitting side by side.
TEACHER:
...And that's how the metric system works.
JOSH:
(to Derek)
Dude, did you check out RAW last night? The Undertaker crucified Stone Cold!
DEREK:
Fuck I missed it. I was doing homework.
JOSH:
(loud)
Shit!!
TEACHER:
What did you say Mr. Jarvis?
JOSH:
Sorry Mr. Cannib. I forgot to do my homework.
MR. CANNIB:
Josh, Derek, outside!
LATE 20'S DEREK:
(OS)
The old man had taken kids out of the classroom before and they always came back with tears in their eyes. As we walked outside I heard a familiar voice.
JERRY:
(OS)
If he touches either of you, kick him in the nuts!
MR. CANNIB:
I told you boys too many times! None of this shit in my classroom! Josh get over here you little prick!
OL' TEACH GRABS JOSH by the NECK.
DEREK:
Hey motherfucker keep your hands to yourself!
CANNIB begins to throttle JOSH. DEREK pushes him off of JOSH and KICKS the TEACHER in the nuts with FURY about 3 times and jumps on top of him while JOSH watches holding his neck.
JERRY:
(OS) While we see Derek's mouth moving
Look here, mother fucker. You think you can be called a teacher for drinking on a farm, fucking cattle and beating children so you can have Summer vacation every year? Fuck you, you spiteful sad man.
DEREK SPITS in the BASTARD'S face and begins to PUNCH him when JOSH pulls him off.
JOSH:
Dude, the door outta here is right there. Lets go to our lockers, get our shit and get outta here.
DEREK:
(Breathing heavily)
Did I just do that? What the fuck? Let's get out of here...now!
CUT TO:
9. EXT. Taft Elementary
A bunch of playground equipment next to an alley with a fenced in field. JOSH and DEREK are walking down the alley. It is sunny outside but about to rain.
DEREK:
That wasn't me that did that.
JOSH:
If it wasn't you who was it?
DEREK:
It w...
JOSH:
(Interrupting)
It really doesn't matter who it was. You got us out of school forever man.
DEREK:
You think so?
JOSH:
We are getting paid, yo.
CUT TO
10. INT. Chillipaqua City Courthouse
The JUDGE bangs his gavel. JOSH and DEREK are seen smiling and pointing at CANNIB while he is on the stand while LATE 20'S DEREK narrates.
LATE 20'S DEREK:
(OS)
And so we did. That incident pulled the liberal media's heartstrings. My mother may have been a bitch, but she was a crafty bitch. We settled in court on a 100,000 dollar payment to both mine and Josh's families.And the fucker of this whole situation was fired and arrested the next week for bestiality and had quite the collection of kiddie porn in his closet!
CUT TO:
11.EXT. A small farm on the edge of town.
MR. CANNIB is pantsless with a goat. We see the cherries and berries come blazing by. Cut to him crying as he is being handcuffed.
CUT TO:
12.INT. Apt 3.
DEREK:
So you guys aren't goat fuckers are you? After all you seem pretty wild.
JULIA:
No.
JANE:
Hell no.
LIZ:
One time I was wearing a skirt and it was a very hot day, and my dog Rufflestiltskin licked my snatch.
JANE, JULIA AND DEREK look on in disgust.
LIZ:
What? I told him to stop.
DEREK:
That's just nasty. Another question and then on to the story again. How old are you girls? This Jane girl looks awfully young.
LIZ:
Me and Julia are 21. I think Jane is 18.
DEREK:
Ahh. Well that's good. The feeling I'm having in my pants looking at you 3 is "okay" then I guess.
JANE:
You make me moist.
LIZ and JULIA look on in TERROR. JANE puts her hand on DEREK'S crotch. DEREK slaps it away.
DEREK:
Hey now! Not right yet you little fucking minx. I have a story to continue.
JANE:
(Disappointed)
Fine.
DEREK:
And so the years pass and our young hero, (ha, me) had grown older and the voices just wouldn't stop after his little incident with his pal the goat fucker. As he grew the voices grew with him. Derek started to become depressed and jaded with the world. He had gotten taller, a bit chubbier, and more handsome. And he had fallen in love. Problem is she was John's girlfriend...and so we find young bespectacled Derek: awkward teenager.
13. INT. Derek's room.
The room is a bit messy. There is an XBOX underneath a small SONY TV. A Micheal Myers poster hangs above his bed. There are blue curtains covering his window. His closet is open and there is a projector and several 35 mm films in there. There is a boom box with a Weezer CD case lying next to it. The Blue album. Derek is on his PC while Only in Dreams is playing in the background. On his computer there are pictures of vile death and pornography. And all of a sudden there is a knock on his door.
DEREK'S MOM:
Boy, you better not be a whacking it!
DEREK:
Goddammit, mom! I will whack it if I feel like it!
DEREK'S MOM:
Well you better put that thing away if you are because there is a girl here to see you! Some girl named Cherise...isn't that Josh's girlfriend?
DEREK:
Oh, fuck! Um...send her in!
CHERISE walks in. She is around 2 years younger than DEREK, very tall as far as girls go, with long blonde hair, skinny yet she has a donk on her. She wears glasses and has braces. Kinda nerdy looking. DEREK has a nervous expression on his face.
CHERISE:
Hi Derek!
DEREK:
Um, hi. What are you doing here.
CHERISE:
Well, 2 reasons. First one is, could I borrow your Bleach CD? That's the only Nirvana album I haven't heard. If I were 20 years older I would have married Kurt instead of that Courtney Love bitch!
DEREK:
I totally understand. Um, yeah it's in my closet underneath my reel of Eraserhead. Let me get it for you.
DEREK walks to his closet and starts rummaging through his shit.
CHERISE:
Second reason is...well, um I'm trying to break up with Josh...
DEREK drops his projector on his foot.
DEREK:
Ow, fuck!
CHERISE:
and I don't know how to go about it. Do you have any ideas?
DEREK seems flustered.
DEREK:
Why...I mean you guys make a great couple.
CHERISE:
But, he is always angry at me if I don't see things his way.
DEREK:
I don't know why he would ever get mad at you. You are so great.
CHERISE:
Well, I did cheat on him with Eric.
DEREK:
That fat fuck?!
DEREK looks disgusted.
CHERISE:
It's like he knows how to respect a woman. Like you...but I could never be with you. You are...too...good.
DEREK:
Good? Like how?
CHERISE:
Like...I don't want to be the one to...ya know...take IT. You need a sweet girl to do that.
DEREK:
But, you are the sweetest girl I know!
Tears well up in DEREK'S eyes. JERRY appears.
Jerry:
Tell her to leave.
DEREK:
I think you should leave.
CHERISE:
I'm sorr--
DEREK:
Leave!
CHERISE looks pissed.
CHERISE:
Fine then you fat loser!
CHERISE leaves. DEREK runs out the door.
DEREK:
Keep fucking drug addicts and losers, ya fucking cunt! Who was the last one? The creepy 30 year old? Keep spreading your legs and you will end up with a little fucker and a man in prison! You're 14 act like it!
DEREK sits down at the desk with anger in his eyes. He reaches in one of the drawers. We see in the drawer there is lotion, paper towels and loosely rolled joints. He pulls out the lotion. DEREK gets on www.stileproject.com and clicks on the most recent link, the Pamela Anderson sex tape which despite being made public nearly a decade ago has finally been linked to Stile Project. DEREK pulls down his pants and starts jerking his wang.
DEREK:
You fucking cunt! You will be mine one day!
We cut to behind DEREK and JERRY is controlling DEREK'S arm.
JERRY:
You see what Tommy Lee is doing with his dick? You will be doing that to Cherise soon enough. Wait...you will convince her. She wants that dick. She just doesn't know it yet.
DEREK cums and takes his shirt and wraps it over his dick to wipe up. What he doesn't get with his shirt he LICKS off of his hand. JERRY looks upon the sad sight that is DEREK licking up his semen.
JERRY:
We will bring her to you. Me and Joe.
CUT TO:
14. Maple Orchard.
DEREK walks down the street to JOSH'S house. JOSH'S house is basically a carbon copy of DEREK'S. There is a green LINCOLN parked in the driveway. DEREK knocks on the window.
JOSH:
Dude, what the fuck? Why the fuck are you waking me up?
DEREK:
It's 4:00 pm, mothafucka! Wake your fat, white ass up and smoke a blunt! I got money lets run out of town to the White Castle!
JOSH:
Fuck, man...give me a few to wake up. My mom will let you in. My Jew dad is at work right now so you're cool.
DEREK walks in.
JOSH'S mom opens the door.
JOSH'S MOM:
Ahh, Derek. Your little middle school friends not aloud to hang out?
DEREK:
Just let me in Melanie.
CUT TO:
15. INT. Josh's house.
DEREK sits down in the house which has an enormous living room and a really big T.V. in it in front of a neatly kept couch.
DEREK:
Hurry the fuck up in there Josh! It doesn't take that long to shit and get changed. I'm starving! Mom hasn't had food in the fridge for a week!
MELANIE:
Why can't your mom afford food for you? You guys have thousands of dollars! How come you can't have food?
DEREK:
Melanie, dear...mother of my best of friends. My mom is a dirty cunt!
MELANIE:
I knew there was a reason I didn't like her.
JOSH comes out of the bathroom.
JOSH:
Fuck, lets go man. I have the new Outkast CD in the stereo. Andre 3000 is a fucking madman!
CUT TO:
16. INT. Josh's Lincoln.
Leather seats, faux wood paneling, a Pioneer CD player, and a little rubber fetus hanging from the rear view mirror. The car cigarette lighter is being used to light a blunt and "Roses" is playing in the background.
JOSH:
Did you watch Chappelle's Show last night?
DEREK:
No man, I'm glued to my computer. Maybe one day when I can watch Comedy Central on my computer I will watch it.
JOSH:
(In a high pitched voice)
A re re visited my work today!
DEREK:
(Laughing maniacally while coughing.)
Oh, really?
JOSH:
(In normal voice)
And not just ANY retard...the king retard!
DEREK:
(gasps)
You are fucking with me. Was...Corky at Olive Garden?
JOSH:
(In high pitched voice again)
Yes!
DEREK:
You are fucking with me.
JOSH:
Seriously dude.
DEREK drops the blunt.
DEREK:
Oh shit!
JOSH slaps DEREK in the back of his head until he picks it up.
JOSH:
Pick it up, brown eye!
DEREK:
Now fuck off, with that shit! I got it.
JOSH:
Give it to me, then.
JOE:
(OS)
Let it slide. Enjoy the marijuana and keep your eyes on the road.
DEREK hits the blunt super hard until he starts coughing up spit on himself. JOSH yanks it out of his hand.
JOSH:
You also need to quit making this thing run with your strong ass lungs.
DEREK:
(Coughing still)
What about Corky?
JOSH:
(Laughs hysterically)
Oh, so you want to hear about mirth and merriment Corky gave me? Well allow me to elaborate.
JOSH hits the blunt 3 times and passes it.
JOSH:
(Exhales followed by a tiny cough.)
Well ol' Corky was sitting at a table that I had to serve. My buddy Jeff was serving a table behind him filled with Hasidic Jews. Like you know how there is Eugene Levy and just slightly higher than that there is my Jewy dad? Well these guys were probably 10 times higher on the Jewometer. Like rabbi's or something. Real Jews, my nig. Well I come up to the table where our favorite retard, Corky is sitting and Corky says to his "handlers" (in full blown tard voice) "Gee, those guys have curly hair...and cool frisbee's on their heads"
DEREK fucking loses it!
JOSH:
You gonna pass that?
DEREK passes the blunt laughing like the deranged bastard he is.
JOSH:
Well, the poor tard said it really loud. So his "handlers" do their best job of telling him a brief history of Judaism while I am taking the orders. As I walk away I hear them mutter something about Haunakah. I go and place the order, by the time I get back with their food, they have finally gotten to the holocaust. Now, I think all he heard, like myself was the beginning and end of the whole conversation. So Corky sees me coming back with his fettucine alfredo gets really happy and breaks into song. Do you want to hear it.
DEREK:
More than I want those jalapeno sliders.
JOSH:
(In the best tard voice ever)
HAUNAKAH HOLOCAUST 8 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS THAT'S RELLY COOL DER'S THE JEW GUYS WIT DER JEW CURLS BUT WATCH OUT FOR DA HITLER HES A BAD BAD MAN HES GONNA GETCHYA WITH HIS EVIL SWASTIKA! HAUNAKAH HOLOCAUST
And he just kept on repeating it over and over. The Jews got pissed and didn't tip Jeff. I distinctly heard one of them saying something about a wood shed and someone beating him way too hard.
DEREK is laughing himself to tears and out of breath.
DEREK:
This couldn't have happened.
JOSH:
That's because it didn't! Ha ha ha!
JOSH pulls up to WHITE CASTLE.
JOSH:
So do we agree on a sack o six each?
DEREK:
Yeah, and a Hawaiian Punch...biggest cup they have.
JOSH:
Yeah that sounds good.
JOSH pulls up to the speaker.
JOSH:
2 jalapeno sacks o 6 and 2 extremely large Hawaiian Punch's.
SPEAKER:
(female voice)
Anything else?
DEREK:
Your number!
JOSH punches DEREK in the arm.
DEREK:
Fuckin' cocksmith!
SPEAKER:
Excuse me?
JOSH:
Don't mind him. He's a virgin.
DEREK has rage in his eyes. He PUNCHES JOSH in his nads.
JOSH:
Wait until we get out of the car, motherfucker.
JOSH pulls up to the window. They see a raven haired goddess with black horn rimmed glasses taking orders.
BANGIN' WHITE CASTLE EMPLOYEE:
That will be 10.99.
DEREK is stunned.
DEREK:
(whispering)
Oh, no...you are fucked when we get out of this car.
They get their sacks o 6 and start eating them on the way home.
CUT TO:
17. INT. Josh's Lincoln/Ext. Josh's driveway.
JOSH:
Lets get out of the car.
DEREK:
One minute...
DEREK pulls out a peach WHITE OWL and half a sack that roughly took 20 dollars and persuasion to obtain.
DEREK:
We need to talk.
JOSH eases his way back into the car.
JOSH:
About what?
DEREK:
Cherise.
JOSH:
Goddammit, what now Derek? Is it still the ol' I saw her first routine? Or do you still think she's in love with you?
DEREK looks hurt, but shrugs it off.
DEREK:
No...sit down and roll this blunt.
DEREK hands JOSH the weed and SHELL.
DEREK:
Now, Josh. Listen to me...Cherise is a fickle bitch. She is also a slut...A 13 year old slut. You are going to be a senior next year...I am going to let you roll the blunt and light it before I tell you. So in the meantime...
DEREK reaches for a CD in the visor sleeve. He pulls out WEEZER'S "Green Album" and plays "Hash Pipe."
DEREK:
(to the tune of the song)
Get that blunt rolled, get that blunt rolled, get that blunt rolled. I can understand why you look so pissed. You know somethings wrong, that somethings amiss. I know that you don't care, but I want you to know, that your girl Cherise is kind of a ho! Oh...come on and roll that...oh...come on and roll that. Oh...this bitch is a problem, she rubs it at night. Oh...you roll that blunt so...we need no hash pipe. DUNDUNDUNDUNDUNDUNDUN
JOSH:
Shut the fuck up, here!
JOSH lights it and passes it to DEREK. DEREK hits it.
DEREK:
So, ol braceface was talking to me. She told me she was thinking about dumping you...something about he doesn't treat me right...he gets angry when things don't go his way.
JOSH looks angry.
JOSH:
And I'm supposed to believe you?
DEREK:
You're a big boy, you can decide for yourself. She's gonna leave you man.
JOSH PUNCHES DEREK in the FACE!
JOSH:
I don't fucking believe you, you son of a bitch!
JERRY:
(OS)
NOW!
DEREK gets out of the car.
DEREK:
C'mon old friend, don't let some stank ass pussy get between us. Now why don't you come on out of the car and give me a hug?
JOSH LEAPS out of the car. He tackles the shit out of DEREK.
DEREK:
Now that's more like it!
DEREK knees JOSH in the BALLS HARD!
JOSH:
(winded)
I will kill you!
DEREK:
Maybe you should give her a call. I'm going home.
DEREK turns around and starts walking. JOSH RUNS at him and hits him in the back of the head.
DEREK:
Now, goddammit man that hurt! Chill the fuck out, man. Bros 'fore hoes!
DEREK has a devious smile on his face.
DEREK:
You should think really fucking hard about what you said about killing me today. I have a screw loose motherfucker! Now, if you want to fight, there are better places. We need to go somewhere else with this. An unbiased environment. I tell you what, we can have a fight at the ballpark in Yolentangee park tomorrow if you are still butthurt.
JOSH calms a bit.
JOSH:
Then it's settled. We will fight tomorrow in the ballpark.
DEREK:
Fine then. I am going home now. Maybe you can chill te fuck out tomorrow so you won't be so easy to whoop.
DEREK turns around and goes home. JOSH is yelling obscenities while crying at the same time.
CUT TO:
18. INT Derek's room.
DEREK is at the computer having freshly gotten his nut watching BANGBROS for 2 hours. We see him pulling up his pants. He looks in the drawer at his desk and pulls out a knife. 2 figures appear. One is dressed head to toe in black with a lip piercing and long black hair. The other has shaggy brown hair and a beard with khakis on and a tie dye t shirt. We recognize them as JOE and JERRY.
JOE:
Put it away.
JERRY:
You need that knife. Do you think he won't put up a fight?
JOE:
Put it away!!
DEREK slices his wrist. Blood comes shimmering down his fore arm. He runs into his mothers bedroom and blacks out. This is all shown from DEREK'S P.O.V.
19. Hospital room.
As his eyes open he is in a hospital bed. There are nurses asking him questions he doesn't understand. He sees the needle in his arm and rips it out. He lunges at one of the nurses.
DEREK:
(Screaming)
Wanna taste!!!???? I wanna taste of you! Lemme see dat ass!
OLDER DEREK:
(OS)
I had decided to ignore these thoughts, but the thought of having these thoughts didn't have me thinking clearly!
20. INT. Apt. 3
JULIA and LIZ are frightened. JANE has her cell phone out. DEREK leans over JANE.
DEREK:
What are you doing?
JANE:
Why, telling everyone on facebook how ----
DEREK grabs her cell phone and THROWS it through the WINDOW.
DEREK:
Now listen here, bitch. No one needs to know of me or the predicament you three are in. If I see any of you texting or using your phones then you will be shot. Consider this your only warning.
JANE actually looks terrified for once and hangs her head in disappointment like she is sad she disappointed DEREK.
DEREK:
Now where was I? Ah, yes. My stay in the looney bin as a spry, yet unwilling teen.
LIZ:
Wait...what happened with Josh?
DEREK:
All in due time, my stoned and buxom friend.
21. INT. The Looney Bin.
There are pastel colored walls and a room full of stumbling wrecks. Teenage boys and girls on Ritalin and Valium. There is a tv in the middle of the room and magazines and colored pencils strewn about. One boy catches the cameras eye.
OLDER DEREK:
(OS)
I met this fellow named Trevor in there, he was a half white, half dark boy with a bushy fro. Couldn't have been much younger than I. I struck up a friendship with him. He is very quiet and says crazy shit when he does speak.
16 year old DEREK:
If you give me your meds I will give you mine.
JERRY:
Have fun.
22. GROUP TIME AT THE LOONEY BIN!
All the schizoid wrecks of human beings converse about how hard their lives have been, all the while Trevor has a strange look in his eyes.
COUNSELOR:
So what makes you happy, Trevor?
TREVOR:
Rape and violence.
COUNSELOR:
(Raises eyebrow)
What was that?
TREVOR:
(Rather quietly)
Peace and silence.
COUNSELOR:
(sarcastically)
Oh, really?
TREVOR:
You must have misread me.
COUNSELFUCK writes on his notepad.
23. Same Looney Bin Place Different Looney Bin Time.
INT. DEREK and TREVOR'S room
DEREK is sleeping.
TREVOR is trying to pick the lock of the window with a paperclip and a plastic knife.
DEREK awakens.
DEREK:
I've been up for 3 days, and I (yelling) FINALLY GOT THE FUCK TO SLEEP! what THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?
TREVOR:
I'm trying to get the fuck out of here!
DEREK:
Dude! Why? It's fucking awesome here! There is a sterile living environment, hot milfy nurses, television, 3 squares and a snack, plus you fucking know you aren't the craziest mofo in here! Everyone in here is either whoring or shooting smack! There is no such thing as a "troubled teen" anymore. That shit died in the 90's when they realized it was all the trip drugs their mothers did when they were pregnant. This is a new generation sir! It's 2005! You have at least 5 years to go before life is shitty for you, don't speed it up.
TREVOR:
They know I'm not taking my meds.
DEREK:
Well fuck, lets just switch back our meds! I don't need to speed like this, the voices won't fucking stop!
TREVOR:
Okay, maybe we will get out of here sooner and I will stop acting like a sociopath.
DEREK:
That's the ticket, m'boy!
24. On the outside.
DEREK:
You got a cigarette?
TREVOR:
No. I don't smoke.
DEREK:
Well, fuck! What good are you then?
DEREK pulls out a HEATER cigarette. They heat your throat with a 100% tobacco aroma. He lights it.
DEREK:
You know what? I could use a guy like you in my corner when the voices start acting up again.
TREVOR:
What do you mean?
DEREK:
(Takes a long drag off his Heater)
You could tell me what not to do. Keep me cool. Jerry is a swift bastard, he is!
TREVOR:
Who the fuck is Jerry?
DEREK:
In due time you will find out. Jerry likes you though. Joe likes you too. They never agree on anything, which means you are cool. Just keep your head when things go awry.
TREVOR:
What the fuck are you on?
DEREK:
(flicks his cigarette)
Life and everything in it!
DEREK's car pulls up. It's JOSH in his Lincoln.
JOSH:
Dammit fuck brain, you were right!
DEREK:
I fucking told you!
DEREK acknowledges TREVOR.
DEREK:
This is my childhood pal Josh.
TREVOR:
Hey.
JOSH:
What kind of crazy are you?
TREVOR:
Not his kind, I assure you.
DEREK gets in the car.
DEREK:
I will see you around, man. I got work to do!
JOSH speeds out of the parking lot.
CUT TO:
25. INT. APT. 3
JULIA:
So that's it? That's how you guys made up?
DEREK:
Well, I did make a phone call to him the previous day.
CUT TO:
26, Nuthouse the day before
DEREK picks up the phone.
DEREK:
Hey, man. You still mad?
JOSH:
(On the phone)
Nope. You were right. Dumb cunt left me for a 20 year old.
DEREK:
Kids these days, eh? I have a situation. I am inside the institute for the criminally insane and I need you to give me a ride out of here.
JOSH:
Why are you in there for?
DEREK:
My arms. Threatening nurses. Depression.
JOSH:
Goddammit you big fucking emo! I will be there soon.
CUT TO:
27. INT. Apt. 3
JULIA:
Ah, makes sense.
JANE:
So, you had a rough time in your teenage years, didn't ya?
DEREK:
The rough times didn't even begin yet...eh...
DEREK looks over at LIZ who looks to be passed out.
DEREK:
Julia...is she dead?
JULIA shakes her. LIZ throws up
LIZ:
Sh...smack.
JULIA:
She's fine.
DEREK:
Well, wake her ass up!
JULIA:
I can't she is uber stoned.
DEREK:
I can wake her up.
DEREK takes off his trenchcoat and unzips his pants. He pulls down her pants revealing a plump, perfect ass. He turns her over and starts fucking her hard. JANE looks extremely jealous.
DEREK:
Wake up. bitch!
LIZ starts to wake up, but doesn't tell him to stop. She moans uncontrollably.
LIZ:
Harder!
By this point both JANE and JULIA are masturbating and they start eating each other out. DEREK is going so hard LIZ' tit pops out. He pulls out and sticks his dick in LIZ' beautiful mouth, choking her on his cock.
LIZ:
(choking and slurping)
DEREK:
Taste that cock! You're next Julia!
JULIA stops eating JANE. Her eyes widen and her jaw drops. DEREK pulls out of LIZ' mouth and cums all over her face. DEREK slaps her and spits on her face.
DEREK:
Stay awake!
She wants someone to love her
Because she wears combat boots (fondly named her "Kick Ass" boots)
With her dresses to award ceremonies
Because she beams her amazing smile at everybody
But saves her funny faces for those that she loves
Because she stays at school on her days off
Simply to run into people she hasn't seen in a while
Because she spends time alone, driving away
Not going anywhere in particular, just going away
Because she is never sure whether she deserves what she has
But she tries hard to appreciate it
Because she apologizes for too many things
And means every single one of those apologies
Because she writes well and writes often
But she is sometimes afraid of her work
Because she loves honest moments and honest people more than life itself
And she loves you for being honest, too
The moon is on the rise
All the stars have filled the skies
But the wolf ignored your cries
Messages get lost sometimes
But on his evening meal he dines
Then he's gnawing on the rinds
They say that good things come in nines
And even lows will have their highs
For the eagle in the skies
Questions not what fate decides
And though the fox wears a disguise
You must not care to hear his lies
Though you think, he never tries
He's sucking eggs while he confides
And you've already heard his lines
You know you're leaving just in time
Deep in your eyes, my heart still lies
Forever changing with the tides
For every story has two sides
But who is it who will decide?
With Good Business brewed is Good Business told
Confirmed the New Mentor who taught us well
Such swig a Sterling Medicine behold
But knowing our Skills his Avid Trust spell
Forsought this Blue Trade our Clients rely
Was that our Webbed Gifts can reciprocate
That within those Months our Service apply
To increase the Bank's volume aggregate
Such now our Eagle wears; Tri-Coloured Schemes
Weaved in pleats forth to Genious unique
And if we can prove to maintain those Seams
Will he be Proud of our Learning oblique.
Once that's done, to the Pub he tips his Zest
All the more content our Minds would not guess.
Outside Oslo
in the base camp
after showering
you met Moira
in the cafe
for breakfast
and coffee
she was in a mood
about the Yank girl
and having to share
a tent with her
(when she wasn’t off
someplace being screwed
Moira said)
and always chewing gum
and those panties
she wears
I’ve seen more cloth
on a finger cut
she said
I’ll take your word for it
you said
she pouted
and stared at you
the finger cut I meant
you said
by the way
are you into
Oslo today?
you asked
mind if I hang along?
sure as long as you don’t
talk about the Yank
or football or Mahler
or whoever else
is hid up
in that brain of yours
she sipped her coffee
and ate her breakfast
saying nothing more
and you watched
as she ate
her eyes dark
and deep
her hair frizzed up
after the shower
her tee shirt
holding tight
her tits
and her blue jeans
hugging her thighs
as you’d like to do
later in Oslo
you toured about
the streets
saw the sights
had a beer or two
while you sat
with her
in some bar
she talking of Glasgow
and her job
and her brother
and his girlfriend
and how
she had this awful
wiggly arse
and floppy breasts
and large eyes
like cow pats
soft and brown
and she laughed
and you liked it
when she laughed
it made her seem better
more human
less grumpy
less critical
and had you been
more brave you might
have kissed her
there and then
but you didn’t
you just ordered
another beer
and talked of Nietzsche
and Mahler
just to watch
her lips move
and incidentally
bore her.
You ask me how I find the time,
But time is not the issue,
For they, are all prepared, needing only recognition,
For they, are all in readiness, needing only composition
I see a toddler swaying, see him to disaster lurching,
Somehow avoided with last second seer-like swerving,
Ten times in a ten foot walk across a patio,
My eyes code red at the incredible risk/reward ratio,
It is nature at it most incredible, miraculous, ordinariness
A young girl of ten wears a pocketbook across her forearm,
In the style of an elderly woman, as she plays with Barbie,
Tho her body immature, her psyche, says note my
Iconology, her accoutrement, texts a message subtly,
I am preteen, I am near woman, treat me accordingly
Dueling iPads in bed is a poem in my head,
rhymes accurate of screen reflections of an
X factor that stimulates my cerebral cortex.
Verbal ointment that I posses can't fix a flat tire,
but sets me up for a personal review, self awareness
Gone mad and with finger, on gas station floor,
In the grime, words are realized/written concretely,
what my heart speaks freely
Within each day, miracles present themselves,
Gauntlets thrown, note them well and be justified,
Visions, external to my physical self,
Yet product of internal chemical reactions
That blow through my veins, swirling,
Word leaves, on a November weekend,
Windswept from a thousand directions,
So you ask me how I find the time,
The question proper be amended,
How do the times find me,
How do I know them,
And why, do I share them
...........................................................................
Captain Ebuzz Clegg
Sails the seven seas.
And rules every ocean
From Calcutta to Belize.
There is nothing far and in between
Nothing old and nothing new,
Captain Ebuzz Clegg has not seen,
And Captain Ebuzz will not do.
He will don his mighty cutlass
Whenever peril comes his way.
He's an old salt, wise and wary.
Always worthy of his prey.
He can read the starry skies at night
Like any solid buccaneer.
And scallywag a bilge rat
Should a bilge rat be lurking near.
When he snaps, "Avast ye mateys," It is fair
He's every plan to anchor there.
Or he'll sail that raging, stormy sea,
Just to find the perfect scratching tree.
"We make our luck," he's sure to say
When some fine challenge comes his way,
He'll weigh anchor and hoist the mizzen strong,
Should a cask of catnip come along.
There are no secret ports where he
Hasn't keelhauled at least one worthless flea,
Or found a bounty of cream fresh as day,
He doesn't plan to steal away.
And should he, a bit of tuna , find,
He'll make certain it isn't left behind.
From Cape Town all the way to South Brisbane
Adventure is his mightiest campaign,
And that's why he wears the Pirate hat,
This clever little Pirate cat.
Copyright © 2012 Richard D. Remler
...........................................................................
"Your cat will never threaten your popularity by
barking at three in the morning. He won't attack
the mailman or eat the drapes, although he may
climb the drapes to see how the room looks from
the ceiling."
~Helen Powers
...........................................................................
Life was easy before
Loneliness.
There wasn't a
Void
To fill.
Life was easy before
Love;
There wasn't a
Heart
To break.
Life was easy before:
Jobs
Girlfriends
Money
Apartments
Friends
Death
Fading idols
Tickets
Debt
Anxiety
Genius
Bravery
Solitude
Freedom;
Life was easy before all of that.
Instead of a simple life
Our society bogs us down with
New things to make our leaves easier
But the truth still stands behind;
Lingering on doorsteps,
Behind the television set,
Underneath our persian silk sheets,
Even underneath the sidewalk
We walk upon to work.
The truth is still there,
With a blank stare,
Holding a smirk as old as time.
Gadgets gear us towards the idea of immortality
That we are the mighty Gods now
But all we need to be reminded of our dispensability
Is a little rain
A little shake
A little gust of wind
And our gadgets and selves will just wash away
Don't let me stray into those matters
Evolution always has me worried
Envy of not seeing man at their newest, their best
Holding the gates of my eyelids open
So to see the break of the waves blue white breast
Atonement in these times generously dispensed
But everyone remembers a face
The way the iron clad soldiers forget is through
Further murder, hoping to one day die themselves
To be truly forgotten is the greatest of miseries
Never having lived means to never have existed
Our footprints are getting wider
The trees sway further toward the ground
Exhaustion peels away at me
Like a babies hand would an orange
Barely standing, I go to work to make $50 a day
Expected to live and be grateful
Produces a laughter mixed with mad absurdity
Where are our heroes now?
On the screen? On the stage? In the field? Behind desks?
There is so much to be done and
When all is finished, the hands scabbed and the knees scraped
All of it will be in vain
Though, we can say we tried
Rather than sitting on our loins
Watching the clouds burst
And the swirls of sand form a tunnel toward God
Lizards prepare their feast
Buzzards rip the flesh from a fresh carcass
Dung beetles roll their wears to the holy land
And the hope of man breathes in and breathes out
One final time
I tried to quit smoking last week. And my best friend died for eighteen hours. Such a deep loss has only been felt by rose hips, in the early winter, after the petals have fallen to the ground, like snow, like jumpers from high-rise buildings, like a maiden, after that last, fatal step off the plank, with swords at her back, and the horizon calling to her, the song of the Sirens drifting up from the ocean floor. Dropping, like petals, caught in a harsh winter breeze. The left-overs, the carcases of the flowers that were and are no more, watch with eyes of sorrow and hearts of lead, as each friend, companion, lover, even casual aquaintance plummets, to land on the already frozen soil of a dead, snowless, Colorado winter.
I died with my friend. My roots were tangled, and with each second that passed, a million axes took bites out of them, feasting on my identity. The axes were only gold-plated, it would seem, and not pure, unadulterated precious metal. Engraved in the paper-thin facade was a name, a face, and a hope, all of which were merely a poor excuse for an excersise in willpower. The cold, iron blade shone through the thin, gently curved lines of lip and ear and eye made of nebula. With each breath that passed between loosely parted lips, I felt myself fade, giving my everthing to the world (hope, name, face) that had, only moments before, murdered my closest companion.
My eyes grew steadily hard, increased stone-content. By 6:30, I had been staring into the eyes of my mistress, Medusa, for at least two hours, my head filled with love songs and daydreams, clutching straws and holding out for the one perfect moment that would shed a brief light on my life, which is, in all reality, the afformentioned pirate ship, but void of lamps, candles, or any other means of illumination.
Questions flowed to the surface of my disjointed mind in a stream, a river, an oceanic current of molten rock and sloppy second guesses.
(Will one hurt? Half? Just one puff? Why? Why? Why?)
And as I turned to stone, I finally found the courage to answer one of the questions that my brain shot itself with, injected into its own blood stream. The question was the sole bullet in a revolving, high-stakes betting game, the answer, the fourth trigger pull, with only two chances left anyway.
(Because... I don't know why...)
So stand up, go to the place you have thought about two-million times, and, yes, smoke, smoke, smoke that cigarette.
As my friend rose from the dead, pushing aside the boulder blocking the entrance to its tomb, which everyone knew was just a temporary tenement, and we were reunited, we spoke of fascists. Well, I spoke of fascists, it listened. I spoke of the kind of fascists that exist in grayscale television commercials, spewing ingnorant words about the untimely deaths of beloved family members, who give me dirty looks in public, and have forced me into alleyways, across streets, out of sight, out of mind, to the back of the bus, as if non-smokers live forever, as if everyone can accomplish said impossible feat, if not for the evil plant, the evil spiritual plant that poses a threat to the well-ordered religious structures, pyres built for martyrs and long-dead saviors.
I have only begged for eternity once, and I was very young, with years of rocks and hard places ahead, only pink clouds behind, and eyes incapable of foresight. This boy ate apples, and drew on his arms with black pen every Sunday. Go into the church clean, bathed, come out with temorary full-sleeve tattoos. This boy was made of wonder, myth, and blind acceptance. No longer.
I have now gazed into an eternity made of open graves, lost loves, and harsh, barbed-wire truths, punctuated with sharp, jabbing exclamation points of brief pleasure that only seem to make the reality of eternity worse. I am a masochist, and even I don't want that. A body can only function for so long without sleep before the motor wears out, the radiator breaks, the gasket leaks, and the marbles flee from the growing insanity of their owner. We all need to rest eventually, and in my secret mind - the one that grimaces with sick pleasure and only shows its teeth in the lines of a poem, slightly blurred by metaphor - I long for that sleep. I am tired, but the day is only half done. But each sun sets, and we can not deny it that truth, that sensation of finality that settles upon senile eyes like a cataract, that snuggles against warm, pink lungs in all its black, tar-like splendor.
Truth, like so many other things in this solar system, only takes shape when under the eye of a microscope, with a passive viewer sewn to the end of it, with the sole intention of passing judgement before shouting "NEXT," and repeating the process untill they either run out of things to judge (blame, think, guilt-trip) or die.
So, smoke, smoke, smoke that cigarette. Puff, puff, puff it and let us hope they never get to either of us, old friend.
