Hey everyone, this is a screenplay I’m working on. A friend of mine and I are going to animate it with style and more than a little artistic license stolen from Quentin Tarentino. All rights reserved. Comments welcome!
Jimmy and Rex sit on a porch, in rocking chairs. They are dressed in suits, and wear large dark sunglasses. They are sweating.
Between them is a board game; RISK. They are studying the board.
REX: Turn off the heat.
JIMMY: We’re outside, Rex.
REX: Turn off the heat.
JIMMY: We’re outside.
REX: So? Turn on a fan or something.
JIMMY: The power’s out.
REX: Well fine. Go already.
JIMMY: It’s your turn.
REX: No, it’s your turn.
JIMMY: I thought it was your turn.
REX: No, it’s your turn. Go.
JIMMY: Okay.
JIMMY studies the board some more.
JIMMY: When is he coming anyway?
REX: Soon.
JIMMY: And you told him we were here, right?
REX: He knows I’m here.
JIMMY: What about me?
REX: He’ll see you when he gets here.
JIMMY: I don’t want to surprise him.
REX: It doesn’t matter.
JIMMY: We’ve got to get him in the house first. I might make him suspicious. Tell him I’m here.
REX: If I call him and tell him you’re here, don’t you think that’s suspicious?
JIMMY: Fine. Text him.
REX: Text him?
JIMMY: Text him. What, don’t you text? Aren’t you living in the mutherfucking twenty first century?
REX: I don’t text people like him. No one texts him.
JIMMY: Text him and say I’m picking up coffee, ask him if he wants any.
REX: Coffee.
JIMMY: Coffee.
REX: Just go, it’s your turn.
JIMMY: It’s your turn!
REX: I’m waiting on you.
JIMMY: Okay.
JIMMY considers. He picks up the dice. He rolls them around in his fingers.
REX: Don’t get the dice sweaty.
JIMMY: I still think you should text him.
REX: Fine, I’ll text him, just tell me where you’re invading and roll. I hate sweaty dice. Feels like I’m picking up cheese cubes.
REX pulls out a cell phone and a blue tooth.
JIMMY: What if I want to attack Afganistan?
REX: I don’t give a shit. Attack Afganistan. What do I look like, Green Peace?
JIMMY: You don’t care if I attack Afganistan?
REX: Attack Afganistan, bitch, roll, it’s on, lets go.
JIMMY: Who are you calling?
REX: You don’t need to know.
JIMMY: I thought you were gonna text him.
REX: I’ll have someone else text him.
JIMMY: We just agreed—
REX: We just agreed it might be suspicious, so I’ll have someone else text him.
JIMMY: Who?
REX: You don’t know him.
JIMMY: What the fuck, aren’t I part of this team? Don’t I get a say?
REX: It’s better if you don’t know.
JIMMY: Who is it?
REX shows JIMMY the phone.
JIMMY: Him?
REX: If the mutherfucker would just pick up his phone. Roll the dice.
JIMMY: I’m still deciding.
REX: Afganistan. Roll.
JIMMY: No, you want me to attack there.
REX: Just go!
JIMMY: No. I have to find your weakness.
REX: Why do I even play this game?
Pause.
REX: Voicemail. Listen, call me. You know who this is. Jimmy, just go.
JIMMY: Where?
REX: Afganistan.
JIMMY: Fine!
JIMMY rolls. So does REX.
JIMMY: Fuck. You fucked up my roll.
REX: They’re dice, shithead.
JIMMY: You pressured me. You fucked up my roll.
REX: It’s supposed to be random. It’s RISK.
JIMMY: Just stop pressuring me.
REX: Live by the sword, Jimmy. If you live by the sword you have to be willing to die by the sword.
JIMMY: Stop pressuring me.
REX: I’m just saying, you cave so easily. Even when it’s not something you can cave on. It’s fucking dice, and you act like it’s a free throw.
JIMMY: Shut the fuck up.
REX: This is your problem Jimmy. I’m just telling you your problem.
REX studies the board. His phone rings. He snatches it up.
REX: You got my message. Call the number I’m about to text you. No. Text the number I’m about to text you. Text the number and say I’m with Jimmy at the plantation. Okay. Call me when you’re done.
REX studies the board.
REX: Afganistan again?
JIMMY: I’m done.
REX: Alright. I’ve got….. REX counts. Okay.
REX puts all his troops in Afganistan.
JIMMY: You’re putting all your troops in Afganistan.
REX: Yeah.
JIMMY: You can’t do that.
REX: Why not?
JIMMY: You son of a bitch. I knew it. I knew you wanted me to attack.
REX: Calm down. You fucked up, now you’re weak and you’ve got nothing in China, don’t fucking blame it on me.
JIMMY: It’s a two person game, who am I supposed to blame?
REX: Blame yourself.
JIMMY: I can’t fucking believe you.
REX: China, Afganistan. Lets go.
They roll. JIMMY looses the roll.
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You have very angry and aggressive characters Cris. It seems like you are trying to hyper-masculinize fairly regularly in these stage dialogues. Is there a reason?
Great questions, I like these kind of questions very much.
I’m ‘trying to hyper-masculinize’? I don’t know what that means. If you’re suggesting something regarding the psychology of my relationship to my own writing, I will only say this: my writing is entirely constituted (necessarily) by what I can and do imagine. If you’re suggesting that my plays tend to have hyper-masculine characters, I would say that such is an apt characterization of the plays I’ve posted on this site, but certainly not of the plays I’ve written. 🙂