Log in

No account? Create an account
24 February 2011 @ 02:19 pm
NOTE: this is not the proper format for sitcoms.


          ADAM and MICK stand at bar as their drinks are poured.
          Behind them sit ALICE and JEN at a booth.

                         (unclear accent)
                    Right, those two lovlies are
                    waiting for the night of their
                    lives. I get the drinks, introduce
                    ourselves and then split up. I got
                    the bird on the right.

                    Please don't do the accent. I hate
                    coming up with a story for how we
                    know each other.

                         (continues accent)
                    Just use the one from last time.

                    God no, please! Not the green card
                    marrige! And how's that not
                    supposed to make us look gay?

                    Easy, if I were gay I could do a
                    hell of a lot better than you. Oh,
                    and by the way don't just say
                    whatever comes to your mind. You
                    think your clever, but your thick.
                    Actually that reminds me: no fat
                    jokes, no talking about what's on
                    the table, no talking about an ex
                    you never had-

                    I've got it! Oh, your bird just
                    flew away.

          Alice leaves booth and exits bar.


                    The girl, the girl on the right she
                    just left.

                    Ah, no worries mate. I'll scout
                    about the bar. But that doesn't
                    give you much time to hit up her
                    friend. She'll probably be headed
                    out soon so vamoose!

          Mick grabs his and Adam's drink and shuffles to the booth.
          Adam turns to a couple of WOMEN beside him.
07 January 2011 @ 04:06 pm
They say write what you know and I haven't the imagination for high adventure, fantasy, and fiction in general. So looking to my personal experiences for inspiration feels limiting, not to mention uncomfortable.

I've been working on a script (movie, short, play, I don't know which it will be) about my life in Santa Barbara in the Fall of 2009. A time I can not forget and how could I? I faced my greatest challenge in my short life: social confrontations. And not the kind you say afterwards, "Yeah, I had a great time!"

I met new and exotic people with radically different moods and means of expression. It was jarring from my cozy little life in Ojai (yes, the "Ojai" that Easy A is set in). Now I fuddle around with the first 15 pages stored in my PC. I wish to continue, but lack motivation while staying with my parents for Winter break. In some time I will post what I have.

An excellent preview for what I am writing would be the movie "Greenberg" which came out this last Spring. It stars Ben Stiller in a dramatic roll and is directed by Noah Baumbach of "The Squid and the Whale" fame. If you've already seen the film...yeah, you can start to understand what memories I'm excavating.

17 November 2010 @ 10:51 pm
fade in:


The park is busy: A COLLEGE AGED COUPLE play frisbee, the ELDERLY sit on benches or walk small dogs, mostly MEXICAN CHILDREN play in the playground.

At a picnic laid across a couple of beach towels sits LOUIS (Male, 21), GABY (Female, 22), and ALEX (Male, 21). The boys are dressed in tight jeans and neutral colored shirts. Louis wears thick shades. Gaby wears a long tan dress with spaghetti straps and a Hawaiian straw hat.

The three are people watching.

That's a pretty kinky gay couple.


That old man over there with his hot little Latin helper.

Could be a woman. Doing the Demi Moore short hair.

I want a nice Spanish man named Alejandro, with a degree in Political Science, but works at a McDonald's.

Manager or would a cashier with a book of poetry behind the counter do?

They both LAUGH. Louis smiles with a visible furrow in his brow. Alex begins to speak until:

Where the hell is Eve? It's been like an hour.

I know, but I think it’s been more like thirty minutes. (Searches purse for phone) I'll text her. Where the frig is my ph-oh here.

She's always late to everything. She lost that job at the art gallery because she couldn't get there in time in her fucking Mustang.

Alex nods looking to the grass. Gaby is focused on her phone. A beat of silence.

There's a lot more Mexicans out in general this year.

(not looking away from phone)
Alejandro isn’t Mexican. He's Mediterranean…She just parked.
(At Alex)
You left your head phones at my place.

Oh, thanks.

Silence. Gaby closes her phone and joins Alex in staring down. Alex hasn't moved. Louis scans the surrounding streets. Gaby quickly checks the time on her phone. She looks around and smirks when she sees EVE (Female, 21) across the street.

There. Look at her march!

I like her dress. Old West formal.

Mm, but she can wear the hell out of it.

The three wait as she approaches, smiles widening. Eve has a very small face and proportional smile.


Gaby is the only one who rises to greet her.

How are you?

I brought muffins.

Oh sweetie!

Eve sits with and places a plastic tub of muffins in the center of them. She slaps Alex's knee:

Hey, you.

Hey, Susan B. Anthony.


I like your dress.

Thank you.

When are we going to go to Red’s?

I know! How about Saturday?

Err; I'll have to ask my boss. I work till eight.

Well it's not like I'm going to start drinking before sundown. Wine deserves better. Good wine anyways.

Louis moves closer to the group, specifically Eve. The girls go on LAUGHING.

Did you go to Muddy Waters last month? I know it’s small as all hell, but Alan still had a big turnout, like people listening from the side walk.

No, I didn't. But I saw him at school and promised I would go to L.A. with him and whoever else is going to the twenty-four concert hour thing.

Is Red’s the fine dining place on Chapala?

Oh, no. It's the wine bar just in downtown. I had my twenty-first birthday there. It's really nice.

Yeah, I would've come if I had heard in advance.

Oh, sorry.

17 November 2010 @ 09:13 pm
A radio script I did for extra credit in screenwriting class.

Radio Script: Jewish Singles

2. ANNCR: Like a snow storm in Los Angeles, getting second date ain’t to likely.
4. MAN: Oh, sorry! Heh, why am I so nervous? Waiter!
5. ANNCR: ‘Cause lets face it; you’re a putz, a schmuck, a shlemiel.
6. MAN: Whoa! I’m so sorry, but did you just see my lobster move? I swear it just hopped towards you.
7. ANNCR: You’re never gonna get anywhere with the ladies unless you start behaving like a mensch.
9. MAN: They really should serve these suckers pre-cracked.
12. MAN: Oh Lordy! Ah, don’t move. You’ve…got a claw in your hair.
14. ANNCR: So get your keester in gear and sign up for our Jewish singles behavioral classes.
15. MAN: Hey! I thought we were splitting the bill!
16. ANNCR: In just five sessions we can knock the nebbish out of ya and make you’re a regular Jeff Goldblum. Call 1800-SIT-UP-STRAIGHT today!
31 May 2010 @ 03:28 am
The end of May this year marks the end of my year and a half long odyssey. Tomorrow I'm moving back with my parents for the summer (can't afford to live on my own for next three months). God where did the time go...

Last spring rather than drag through another semester of city college went on a study abroad program (through my school, crazy for Jr. college right?) to Rome and Paris. Three months total of film production and art history classes with perfect strangers! Wow, the country, the culture, the off and on illnesses we spread amongst each other was something else. I fell in love with some people (both platonically and literally) and hated a couple...well mostly one. The single greatest education I got from this is: No change in surroundings will usher change in yourself. That may seem a bit lame or obvious, but I have many friends who've convinced themselves they'll change "someday" when they move out of town or transfer some where. Not true. You'll still need to confront the anxieties that you allow to plague you now.

When I returned home I moved in with some guys I met through the trip. This last year has proved to be most engaging and "college student-like" of my life. I made friends with people I'd long thought I resented, went through three, count 'em, three relationships, and took many more responsibilities (namely financially). I also hit all time new lows to boot. My heart-and stomach for that matter-twisted under tremendous awkwardness, prat falls, and pressures. I lost about 15-20 pounds through stress alone. However (and I don't mean to quote the Beatles) I got by with a little help from my friends.
Speaking of which I learned in graphic detail how they had all delt with far more complicated and saddening circumstances. This genuinely lucky shmuck never had to deal with his parents divorce, poverty, drug addictions, fist fights, and lose of a parent. Some of these people comforted me as best the could as did I for them.

Only now on the eve of my return "home" do I begin to feel as though I just took the last chunk of my life for granted. I am deeply regretful now. But you know what, I still feel like a winner after all this. I conquered many a mountain and things keep getting brighter and brighter for me. I passed the last of my math courses by the skin of my teeth, was excepted into three Universities, and in the fall I'm transferring as a Junior to CSU Northridge. Hot damn!

Summer time is the only hurdle I'm facing with mixed thoughts. I'm moving back? I need a job first and want to get some scripts up off the ground, assemble some friends and beef up my resume. It's the end of an era and the start of a new.
03 April 2010 @ 10:34 pm
Another script. This one I just finished. Based partially on a real experience.

INT. bar. night

A smokey, dimly lit bar somewhere in Ventura county. There are a few patrons at the bar and playing pool. Through the front door enter DONNY and ALEX, both college age men. Donny looks around with interest while Alex is obvious in his discomfort.


Well this is charming.

Donny walks on towards the bar, Alex follows. The bartender steps over to serve them.


A Heineken.


Oh come on.

Alex steps between the Donny and the bar and waits until the bartender walks away.


You seriously feel comfortable getting smashed here?


Sure. Besides it's refreshing to see what we'll look like twenty years later when neither of us have still to make a feature film.

Donny tips his beer at a fellow patron and smiles. The patron does not return the gesture.


Which is why I'd much rather be spending tonight getting fucked up while pretending to be suave at a barely legal eighteen and up club.

Alex takes out his phone and begins testing.


You didn't have to come with me.


I'm gonna meet Adam at Soot Suits, if you want to come.


On your face? No thanks. I'm going to...fully take in the rich peanut and piss aesthetics of the place, and if I end up curb stomped outside tomorrow morning I'll still have had a better night than you at Dargans.


Alright. Don't make any Redneck jokes. Cheers.



Alex leaves out the door, still texting. Donny turns towards bar, drinking beer and looks up at a TV with a football game on. He darts quick glances at his flanks and another drink, now a little nervously.

AVERY, a disheveled old bar fly appears next to Donny.


You in the reserves?

Donny turns to face him while still hunched over the bar.





Avery gestures at Donny's cargo pants, which are camouflage. Donny shakes his head.


I do work for the Army at Point Magoo, but I'm a little banged up-trouble getting around-was stationed in Iraq.


Uh huh?


Well not fighting. Translating. Too old to do much physical anything. It pays pretty good, set every month and living comfortably...

Avery nods his head at the bartender.


Coors Light please.

The bartender produces the beer. Avery takes it.


But living here-can I be honest with you...uh.


Uh, Donny.


Can I be honest with you Donny, this town is filthy. I mean it's just trashy. I live in a good neighborhood, but the place I live in is filth. The guys I live-I live with ten others-are the biggest damn slobs you've ever met.


Uh huh.


They just about trash the place, got dishes in the sink from last month. I mean, I don't mind doing the dishes for everyone if it's a shared responsibility, I'll respect that, but these guys just let it all rot wherever it falls, you know what I mean?



Donny sits awkwardly, beer in hand. Avery takes a sip of his, not breaking eye contact.


I'm Avery by the way.

He extends hand and they shake.


You know, these guys never even leave the house. Never leave the damn TV room! Just sitting on their fat asses, barely get up. Pretty much just piss where they sit, but really, they're so fat they probably couldn't tell their dicks from their big toes.

Donny nods.


I really need to find a new place, somewhere near the community college. I take classes there. Yeah, I'm off duty for now, I was stationed down in Guantanamo taking care of inmates. Ya know?

Avery chuckles and Donny smiles.


Ya know, someone's gotta do it. But while I'm up hear I'm really looking for a half-way decent place to stay. The place I'm staying now, that shit hole is awful. Don't feel safe taking a nap or getting high there. I don't wanna be taken advantage. You know what I just found out? The landlord let a registered child molester move in! Can you fucking believe it?

Avery gives Donny time to react.




I'm telling you Don-can I call you Don?




I'm telling you Don, can you imagine living with pedophile next door? And I love children, I respect them!

Donny smiles and drinks. Avery pauses for a moment.


I need-I need a place that doesn't scare women away when I bring 'em home, ya know? And why wouldn't most young people want me as a roomie? I got a green card. And I grow it to boot. 'Course if that's a problem then just say I would touch the stuff myself.

Donny is noticeably getting anxious.


You know anybody, any friend of yours looking for a roommate?


Uh, no.


'Cause I'm very easy to live with. I keep my problems to myself, I'm very clean...and I respect other peoples women.

Donny abruptly lets out a nervous chuckle.


No really, that's important to some people, of stealing others women. Tell ya what...you take my number and pass it around to anyone you think is looking for a roommate...


Yeah, yeah OK.

Avery takes out phone, staring at it in wonder.


Yeah...I got an AT&T and I must say I'm not very pleased with it. It's always acting up on me. And it needs a charge. Maybe I should charge it first.


What's your number?





Avery leans forward and watches Donny enter his number.


You got it.




OK, now I'm looking to move out as soon as I can make asap, so you let me know as soon as mum's the word.


Yeah, yeah cool. I will. OK I'm gonna get home. I'll let you know.


Thanks man. That means a lot.


No problem. See ya.


Alrighty, take care.

Donny exits the bar.

EXT. Outside bar. night

Donny walks to corner of sidewalk. He opens his phone and deletes Avery's number then phones Alex.



Tags: , ,
20 March 2010 @ 05:16 pm

This is what I've got so far. Not much, but I'm working on it. Any feed back would be nice.

    Here comes Max. When Max attacks. Max on, Max off. If Max had to pick just one of those phrases to go by, one that people (strangers and friends) could only connect with one individual he would probably pick the “attacks” one. He is very fond of those words and even though they originated from a now tired anecdote involving a “spring attack” on his sister, he would never openly say he found it cute.
    Rather, Max looked at these quotes and stories as reassuring mortar to his identity. Understand that Max is still a young man and identity, the great fear of all men, has solidified into a cohesive shape for him. His wordrobe never fails him. He eats what he likes and damns the nutrition value. He can catch a tune like a fever and never be ashamed of the words he mimes. He can apprechiate anothers opinion without argument. But best of all he can tell good taste from bad.
    It is not always comfortable, this identity. Max sometimes wonders why the word “no” is used so frequently. Sometimes he is embarrassed in public. He even will, occasionally, envy those who seem so much more lost than he. No matter! A quick assessment of how much order is in his life where chaos is in others and he’s back. Max is back.
Current Mood: artistic
17 March 2010 @ 12:53 pm
This is a informative speech I wrote for a communications class. I'm pretty proud of it, one of the better research papers I've written.

I. Introduction
A.    Attention getter: Among the contributors and victims of the 9,000 deaths in the war on drugs in Mexico over the last few years are U.S. & Mexican  government officials and the country’s six major drug cartels.
B.    Thesis statement: These three major players in the ongoing war compliment each other in continuing the drug trade and the violence it causes.
C.    Personal Credibility: I want to share with you the latest reported disturbances I’ve discovered from investigative journalism magazine Mother Jones and The N.Y. & L.A. Times.
D.     Audience motivation/reason to listen: I’m sure many of you have heard more and more warnings not to visit Mexico as well as why the situation has become of increasing trouble for our country. This IS a war, and it is in our own backyard.
E.    Preview of main ideas: (list briefly, no details)
1. The Mexican Army has exacerbated the situation
2. The U.S. has been just as foolish in it‘s offered remedies.
3. And the Mexican Cartels are so deeply rooted as the heart of it all they may never be stopped.

Let’s begin with the most recent actions taken by the Mexican Government.

II. Main point #1: The Mexican army’s involvement has generated more violence and fear both in the field and internally.

    A. According to an report in the July/August issue of Mother Jones, the army has been forcing it’s way into the drug ring since it’s its deployment by President Felipe Calderon in 2006. The 45,000 troops are at war with both the cartels and the police over drug territory and they deny any involvement. In April 2008 a General held a press confrence to dismiss claims of Military crimes. He argued that when the papers read “’one more murdered person’ they should instead say, ‘one less criminal.’”
    B. Mother Jones also reported on Mexican reporter Emilio Soto who attempted to flee across the border from the army. He had written a published story accurately accounting Military activity. He had denied bribes for nearly five years and was declared unredeemable. When a neighbor tipped him off that the military survalience team outside his house was not just in the neighborhood to deal cocaine at the liquor store on the same block, but to kill him, he fled. At the border he entered the U.S. legally and asked for asylum. He was jailed, separated from his son, denied bond and was not scheduled for a hearing.

 That brings me to the U.S. government, whose contributions to the war are so great they arguably set up the grounds for the recent spike in violence.

III. Main point #2: In 2007 Presidents George W. Bush and Felipe Calderon commenced the Merida initiative or Plan Mexico as it has been dubbed, and it was destined and has proved to be a unmitigated disaster like it’s sister Plan Columbia.

A. First off, the Merida Initiative does not address American drug use and the smuggling of arms into Mexico. In fact, the L.A. Times reported in 2008 that 97% of arms carried by the Cartels are smuggled from U.S. gun shops and trade shows, including military grade explosive weapons. And the majority of marijuana and cocaine brought into the our country comes from or is at least shipped through Mexico.
B. Even as a means to end violence, the initiative as representative Laura Carlsen of the Center for International Policy points out, “it contains not one single obligation on the part of the United States.” What the Plan does provide is $1.4 billion in arms, tech, and training to the Mexican Army (which has seen 120,000 troops defect to the cartels since 2000). The army has been supplied with Black hawk helicopters, X-ray equipped surveillance vehicles, and interrogation training.
(Write out transition into main point 3). Clearly the joined efforts of two major forces have only been able to exacerbate a dire situation. However, the U.S. and Mexican governments are still only novice’s in the war compared to the cartels.

IV. Main point #3: The influence the cartels have over the war is staggering, with more connections, funds, and raw brutality than any of the federal groups.

A. “We’re seeing fewer reports by [boarder] agents of being approached by traffickers,” says agent James Smith of Homeland Security. That’s because as Customs and Boarder Protection are bolstering their numbers they are finding that more employee’s are not only turning over to bribes from cartels, but were planted in their positions by the enemy. Agents like Margarita Crispin who before her arrest worked the Paso Del Norte bridge in El Paso where a fifth of all seized drugs are found. It’s suspected she was paid millions for trafficking more than 2,200 pounds of marijuana. And even when fewer drugs are crossing the boarder, Daniel Hamermesh of the N.Y. Times revealed that it has caused a surplus of the products in Mexico. This leads to lower prices, more addiction, and more violence.
B. South of the boarder, the cartels conduct business just like their badge carrying countrymen. The massacre’s at narcotic addiction clinic’s and the dumping of decapitated policemen on elementary school grounds are all a part of maintaining the fear that keeps everyone quiet and submissive. Some, like Teo Garcia Simental have made careers purely out of intimidation. Teo was once just an low level drug enforcer, but abandoned the Tijuana cartel to specialize in kidnappings. By May of 2008 he and his new gang had abducted so many of the city’s doctors that the remaining went on strike. It is theorized that they simply went through the phone book to scout targets. Later one of his lieutenants was arrested and charged with the disposal of some 300 bodies. The lone edge that Teo has over authorities is his insight of their woeful corruption.

 While these cases seem fable-like, this is the reality.

V. Conclusion 
A. Re-state thesis statement: The two governments and their enemy who fight in the war on drugs are quite effectively driving a country into apocalyptic times.
B. Review of Main Ideas: (list briefly, no details)
1. The Mexican Army with their corruption.
2. The U.S. government with their blindness.
3. And the Cartels with their near endless power.
C. Reference back to attention getter/clincher: Both governments continue to enable the trade and the violence that follows, with President Calderon insisting that the state has improved the last few years, the Merida Initiative still supplying the country with arms, and the cartel’s influence reaching as far into the U.S. as Alaska.

Works Consulted:

Bowden, C. (2009, July/August). We Bring Fear. Mother Jones, 29-43.

Hamermesh, D. (2009, September). Fewer Drugs in America Means More Problems in Mexico. [Electronic Version] N.Y. Times

Koughan, F. (2009, July/August). US trained death squads? Mother Jones, 31, 80.

Starr, P. (2008, October 22). Mexico’s spreading drug violence. [Electronic Version] L.A. Times.

Wallace-Wells, B. (2009, July/August). Teo’s War. Mother Jones, 80.
14 March 2010 @ 12:39 am
Here's a scathing piece of self indulgence I wrote whilst in Pairs last spring. This was written about an hour after I experienced these feelings.

    As a student, more specifically a film student, I’m troubled before I even begin to write this. The first problem is format. Should I write this as it appears before me now, a midnight self-indulgence monologue? Or, should I commit these present thoughts to a script? Such dilemma’s hamper any and all creative attempts I feel, and all creative attempts are significant. I’ve chosen to simply jot all immediate thoughts down like this so that I may address my reader(s) informally. Actually, at this moment I really do need to speak straight and speak straight from my mind. After all, I hope to go to bed before three in the morning.
    Walking tonight, coming home from a movie, I am distant from my company. A common happening for me, to escape into my inner thoughts for the duration of the excursion, and in this case, the night. The others I am with talk amongst themselves about anything. Things I’m not sure I can relate to. They talk endlessly so my train of thought, even though dense, is sidetracked and I take in bits and pieces of what I hear. In my thoughts are typically self concerned woes and questions. My mind just generates questions and as if I’ve accepted an invitation to a game I attempt to answer them.

“Why am I such an asshole?”
“You turn others away when they speak to you.”
“Why cant’ I relate to others who seem so similar to me?”
“They’re like you, their assholes too.”
“Why don’t I act when I see the solution to a simple problem?”
“Are you sure that’s the correct solution?”

    Involved as this process gets the hard part is really when I’m intentionally interrupted. Someone from the group I accompany says “hello” repeatedly. I give them the benefit of the doubt and assume they are answering a phone, but know that they are speaking to me. They rush up from behind and wave their arm in front of me. “Hello! You O.K.?” I say, “Yeah, sure” and explain that I thought they were on their phone. They sigh and return to the group.
    So where am I? I’m wandering back and forth, staggering a little like I’m hypnotized. So disjointed from reality am I that when confronted with conversation and not wanting to greet them with my unexpected grumpiness that I must make a painful rebound. Returning to casual after a very centered moment alone is difficult, maybe harmful. It’s the very reason I make what I feel is a very courteous gesture to remove my self both mentally and physically from a social situation I have no leverage in. What does that mean? Well, say person A is chatting with their regular friend person B. That is enough for me to step out and if say they were talking about how they spent last summer together at a student camp then they’ve just cemented my decision.
    As their voices continue to fade in and out, some subject that vaguely resonates with some passion of mine sparks an interest and cautious entry. When I’ve found my opening I speak to my hearts content. I go on and on until I’m out of breath and yet continue on in wheezing spurts. This is just the opposite of the rebound conversation. Here I am in my element, I know what I’m saying and what I’m saying is a direct equivalent to what I am thinking. All that thinking with none of it escaping my head tends to materialize as longwinded, run-on sentences. I’ve had my say. Now I return to my quiet self. They carry on with the conversation moving in a different direction. My satisfaction is short lived.
    Again my thoughts are focused on that burning question, “Why am I such an asshole?” I repeat “I hate you”, but constantly moving, the flow of words see this order: “Everyone has something fucked up with them.” At first, the honesty, the power of these words see’s me guilty. But then I realize it’s wrong to feel so selfish when I deserve just as much love as anyone. My concluding thoughts are, I am simply inconsiderate of others. They need help, and I feel good helping them or at least what seems like help. Sometimes that’s cliché “always look on the brighter side” crap and others it’s hard love; I’ll talk meanly with a splinter of humor in my condolences.
    However, I never talk long or fully enough to these people to whom I offer help. I never have the chance to see if I’ve made any impact. The most I’ve seen is that they will speak a little more bluntly and might relay a personal story. But even those times feel good. Writing all this down feels like it’s done me a ton of good. It’s even only two in the morning as I wrap this up! But still, I would feel so much better if I had not written this and simply been “O.K.” tonight than just insist I was.
15 April 2009 @ 05:21 pm
Mystery film by David Peddicord

fade in.


We see SYDNEY, a studious looking man in his late twenties cleaning a bedroom. We see him scrub the floor, stuff something into plastic bags, and wipe down the bathroom sink faucet.

He puts on black gloves. Wipes clean the front door knob before opening and exiting.

cut to:


Sidney throws bags into dumpster and leaves hurriedly. We see now he carries with him a duffel bag.

cut to:


Sidney sits alone with arms crossed and head resting on table. He wears a black rain coat and and a raggedy beanie. CELL PHONE RINGS. Annoyed he answers.

cut to:

int.apartment hallway.night.

Sidney approaches closed apartment door. He checks door number then looks to phone to confirm. Enters.

Inside he immediately see's a dead young man sprawled out on the floor, halfway between the bedroom and hall. Sidney sighs.

He lays down plastic sheeting and removes an electric saw from his duffel bag. He stands over the body and we HEAR THE SAW TURNED ON.

Sidney hastily packages plastic bags; this time we can see some red coloring inside them.

cut to:


We see only the red stained plastic bags fall in to a dumpster. THE LID SLAMS SHUT.

cut to:


Sidney slouches in chair playing with teaspoon. With spoon he draws the face of a cat in a pile of sugar. PHONE RINGS, Sidney looks up. He appears now both annoyed and embarrassed.

cut to:


Sidney approaches another apartment door and tries handle. It's locked.

He SIGHS and exits the hallway.

cut to:

ext.apartment building front.night.

Sidney exits from lobby and and walks along side the building. He stops a ways from the front doorway and leans against wall.



Sidney, still resting against the wall, holds his head low as if asleep.

FOOTSTEPS alert him. He looks to the front doorway to see MICHELLE, young woman with heavy makeup, wearing an overcoat and heals enter the building.

Sidney is very still before swallowing hard.

cut to:


The apartment door is being approached by an unknown party. Wires enter the keyhole and the door is unlocked.

cut to:


Sidney remains in place. Without emotion, he stares down at feet.

Cut to:


Two young men in their mid twenties sit in a living space drinking beer. One is at a desk with a computer. The other sitting on a couch.

The man sitting on the couch is alerted and rises.

Michelle enters the room. The men go silent and stare.

Michelle is smiling. Facing them she opens and removes her over coat revealing a fine evening dress.

cut to:


Sidney is just drifting back into a doze when the CELL PHONE RINGS.

He jumps at the noise and fumbles to find it. Taking it from a pocket he reads the glowing screen.

Finishing, he puts the phone away, reaches down for duffel bag and enters the building.

cut to:

int.apartment stairway.night.

Sidney climbs a long stair way. Ahead he see's Michelle descending.

Sidney looks up and then away from her as she passes. Michelle pays no attention to his presence.

cut to:


Sidney enters the living space.

Inside, the men lay on the floor. There are some signs of a struggle and blood pools under one of the bodies.


cut to:

INT.CAFE.Early Morning.

Sidney sits alone. His hand is around a cup of coffee on the table.

He is fatigued looking and appears barely to be breathing.

He raises the coffee cup to his lips and pauses. He looks down to table.

Where the cup sat is a ring of spilled coffee.

Sidney takes a napkin and wipes the ring away in one stroke. He pauses, staring blankly at table.

fade out.

Copyright David Peddicord 2009
Current Mood: creative