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30 November 2007 @ 08:31 pm
There is a reason I'm not a famous screenwriter.  
I don't know how to write scripts. And the following is formatted terribly. And probably way incorrect.

But if you want to know what happens in my head after several days/week of not sleeping more than a couple of hours a night. Simply picture the characters in this as being yours truly.



BLACK SCREEN

FADE IN

Several women milling around a small square gray room. Each dressed distinctly, as the camera finds their faces they are seen to be identical, the same woman.

VO- Boxing match style announcement:

Tonight, live only on Pay Per View watch as her mind turns on itself. More tits ass and crazy than you can shake a stick at.


CLOSE UP

Woman 1, hair is smoothed back, she looks like your average put together woman.


WOMAN 1
This is entirely uncessary, we’re just fine. Everything will go as planned, there is
room for issues.

CLOSE UP

Woman 2 is slightly more disheveled in jammies. An ugly stuffed animal under one arm. She is slightly pop eyed, glassy looks dazed but content.

WOMAN 2
I want my blanky. BLANKY! Blanky now.

CLOSE UP

Woman 3 is very rumpled, hair askew. Wild eyed and manic.

WOMAN 3
I know how to handle this shit. Come on.

SMASH CUT

The three woman are sitting around a table. WOMAN 1 has a clipboard, WOMAN 2 is rocking back and forth eyelids drooping, WOMAN 3 is tapping a claw hammer on the table and looking bored.

WOMAN 1
As per our last meeting we will be discussing the prudence of cutting the hair.

WOMAN2
OH, oh I think we should um….

WOMAN1
What? Spit it out we do have other business tonight.

Long moments of silence around the table,

CLOSE UP WOMAN 2- she blinks slowly

WOMAN2
We should…get a um, uh you know.

WOMAN3
Jesus what the fuck man? I should punch you. If I punch you will you spit it out
already?

WOMAN1
Please, give her a minute.

Both look to WOMAN2, close up on her face.

WOMAN2
We should get a pony.

PAN OUT to show WOMAN3 rising and moving to leap across the table, hammer raised in one hand,.

WOMAN1 restrains WOMAN3.

W.1
That is not appropriate please remain in your seat and remain calm. This is an orderly meeting we will have none of that. Do you understand?

W3
Yeah whatever. We are not getting a fucking pony. Let’s shave the head.

W1
Yes thank you for wanting to get back on topic. Motion to aquire a pony is dismissed. However the motion to shave the head is denied as that is prohibited in section 47.2.65.38b sub section fourteen in the by laws.

W2
I like pie.


FADE OUT

Cut to flashes, each woman doing different things. Settle on W3 pacing in the corner of the room. Hands behind her back, the camera not quite able to catch what is in her hands.

OC

W1
The brain has apparently not spent enough time in REM sleep for approximately four days.

W2
I’ve got a lovely bunch of coconuts deedly deedly….

W3 is still pacing, muttering inaudibly. All three look up at once. Return to the table. W3 has her hands in her lap.

W!
I propose we ignore that and resume present activities. Or alternately I suggest
we take a bath and indulge in a cookie. Ladies?
W2
Cookies! COOOKIES!

W3 leaps up brandishing a very large kitchen knife, wide eyed and very loud.

W3
NO! STAB, STAB STAB STAB STAB STAB STAB!

W2, W1 stare at W3

W1
That is an inappropriate action motion denied and you are in time out.

W3
STAB STAAAAAAAAAAAAAAB!

W3 starts running around stabbing the air while continually chanting stab.

W2
Uh oh. Uh oh. Uh oh.

W2 cuddles her stuffed animal, shaking her head. W1 turns and rises, walks across the room and opens a small hidden panel in the wall, turns and is aiming what appears to be a tranquilizer gun.

W1
W1 (cont’d)
I do hate to do this but you leave me no choice.

W1 fires off four shots in rapid succession. Fade out.

FADE IN-

The three woman are in matching pajamas, W1 has one eye open, W2 has her stuffed animal jammed under her chin, W3 is inbetween the other two cradling a hammer.

W1
Sometimes, you just have to tranq a bitch.

FADE OUT on all three women sleeping peacefully.



Now since apparently my masochism knows no bounds I am polishing the turd love story I've been working on.

Here's a snippet:



With any other girl my first impulse would’ve been to give some cute smart ass answer but what I blurted instead was the dead on truth.

“The man you’re going to marry.”

For a minute she just stared at me, her face impassive. I had no idea what I’d said for almost a full thirty seconds after I said it, then realization dawned on me and I felt the red hot blush creep up my neck and over my face. I had never hated being white more than I did in that instant.


Ain't it romantical.

Also, can I just say that I am really -seriously- in want of my jammy pants, fuzzy slippers and a really big glass of beer.
 
 
Current Location: werk
Current Mood: lethargiclethargic
Current Music: In Your Hand- Attrition