Sunday, January 19, 2014

Exposition in Vermont

Scene 1
SETTING: Interior, Exposition Family Cabin in Yingtongtington Vermont
Fireplace, rocking chair, exposed wood ceiling and cans of maple syrup arranged in pyramids. Mom is cooking at the stove.
TIME: The present.
SPACE: Local Arm, Milk Way Galaxy.
Sean enters, scratching his flannel shirt.

Mom: Who's there?
Sean: It's me, mom. Sean Exposition. My life is rewarding and happy now, but I have a dark secret. It's so secret, I've forgotten what it was. I see you're cooking there. Food was always a substitute for love in our family. Where's dad?
Mom: He's out in the barn soldering the dead horse together. Dad and his manly projects. He's always trying to prove he's a man on account of his deeply suppressed doubts about his own sexuality.
Sean: Well, that's all goes back to the day his brother killed himself. Billy Exposition, the track star, winning all those medals up at state. Big hero, he was. Called dad a queer. At least that's what dad says when he mumbles in his sleep ...
Dad walks in.
Dad: Oh, yeah. I remember. "Hey queer. Steal me a cigarette from Ma's purse." Yep. Uncle Billy was quite a character. Imagine my surprise when I found him hanging dead from the belt of his own bathrobe, swinging like a lamp. What's cooking?
Mom: Grits. 
Dad: Mmm. That's almost as good as love, in my book.
Sean: Do Vermonters eat grits?
Mom: They do if they come from North Carolina in the middle of the night under assumed names after burying the man who was blackmailing 'em alive. 
Sean: It was all so easy. Once we'd made up our minds.
Dad: Yep. Learning this stupid accent was the hard part. 
Doorbell rings.
Dad: Who the hell is that?
Opens door.
Mailman: Special delivery. (Extends package.)
Dad: What's this?
Mailman: A catalyst that will dredge up old secrets and change your lives forever, I reckon.
Dad: Always is.
Mailman: Sign here.
He does.
Mailman: Thanks a heap, Mr. Exposition. I should point out, you and your kind have always remained outsiders in Yingtongtington. We never accepted you in our community, or bought your story.
Dad: Always wondered about that. How come?
Mailman: That accent of yours. 
Dad: What's wrong with it?
Mailman: Nothing. If you come from Maine. Good day, sir.
Dad: Well, that's a hell of a note.
Sean: Open the package!
Dad: No. Me and my dependent/avoidant personality. I reckon I'll put it off and put it off until the whole thing blows up, like the time I knew your Ma was having an affair, but I refused to confront it, refused to put two and two together...until next thing I know, I'm looking at a heap of flesh and bones and the foot of the stairs that used to be a living, breathing man.
Sean: Well, least you got me in the bargain.
Dad: Some bargain.
They all laugh.
Sean: Now quit stalling and open the package.
Dad: No.
Sean: Sis would open the package.
Dad: We don't talk about her.
Sis walks on stage. Everyone freezes.
Lights off. Spotlight on sis.
Sis: No. They don't.
Go to black.
Mom: Grits are ready!

Friday, January 17, 2014

The Tilikum Trial

An angry mob protests. Signs proclaim: FRY THE WHALE! A folk singer starts singing, "Live and let live, let nature be your teacher ..." The mob beats him senseless with their signs. 
A MOB LAWYER passes by this ugly scene, adjusting his tie, a smirk on his face.


MOB LAWYER: Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. My client stands accused of a heinous crime. And heinous so it is. Tilikum grieves for the loss of the Mouse and Monster families, this I can assure you. But we should not let our legitimate grief propel us to a rush to judgment. The facts of the case are this...
Due to the subsequent, unfortunate and purely coincidental fire, no physical evidence remains of the crime scene. There were no surviving witnesses to this crime. No photographic or video records of any kind. Yet. Yet my client is on trial. Why? Purely on the basis of hearsay and presumption of motive. What motive? Why, the motive to kill, of course. He is, after all, a killer whale.
My client has endured this slur all his life. Ladies and gentlemen, he is not a killer. He is an Orca. An upstanding Cetacean-American. Tilikum donates generously to Our Sisters of Mercy and helps out in soup kitchens and stuff like that. Hey, just look at him! Is that the face of a killer? Come on!
Ladies and gentlemen, I rest my case.

JUDGE bangs gavel.

JUDGE: The jury will now consider, yatta-yatta-yatta.

MOB LAWYER looks at TILIKUM. Shrugs.

TILIKUM closes his eyes. Go to black. Then we hear --

JUDGE: The defendant will rise.
MOB LAWYER: Jesus, that was quick. 
JUDGE: The ...
MOB LAWYER: Stand up, asshole.

TILIKUM stands.

JUDGE: The jury finds the defendant. Not guilty.

Sound: applause. 

TILIKUM blinks, moved. Then looks at the jury.

We see, for the first time, that the jury is comprised entirely of penguins, seals and dolphins.

TILIKUM eats the jury.

Killer Whale

MICKEY MOUSE, TILIKUM and FRANKENSTEIN'S MONSTER, (the true CEO of Universal Studios) sit at a table.

MICKEY: Ha-ha. Listen up, whale boy. You understand Sea World stays number three, theme-park wise. Ha-ha. And we still want our kickback, ha-ha. We own this part of Florida. Tallahassee, too. Ha-ha. Jump through the hoop, Tilikum. You’re good at that.
MONSTER: He’s just busting your balls.
MICKEY: Sure I am, ha-ha. It’s just business. Go fuck yourself. Ha-ha.
MONSTER: Listen to this guy. I never know when he’s kidding.
MICKEY: I’m not kidding. Yeah I am. Ha-ha.
MONSTER: What a comedian.
TILIKUM: Excuse me.

Tilikum gets up and goes to the bathroom. They watch him leave.

MICKEY: Leave it like you found it, ha-ha.
MONSTER: You’re an asshole, you know that?

Tilikum retrieves a 45 from the top of the toilet.

Tilikum’s POV as he walks back in. 

MONSTER: Hey, he’s back!
MICKEY: Did everything come out all right? Ha-

TILIKUM puts a bullet through MICKEY's forehead.

MONSTER: Hey! No! I got nothing to do w—
TILIKUM puts a bullet through his throat.
He drops his gun.
And waddles out of the Ice Cream Shoppe.
"Godfather" theme swells.