SCUMBAGUETTE (fit 10)
(AUNT SHEULIE's apartment in the edge city area of Newport. Her flat is on the twenty-seventh floor of a large residential tower, which is, in turn, located with a self-contained, total living community comprised of many identical towers, a shopping mall, a Staples, two grocery stores, and a multiplex cinema. AUNT SHEULIE's modest but well-kepy apartment offers a spectacular view of... the concrete side of an identical apartment building. There's no graffiti on it, though.)
(AUNT SHEULIE herself sits on a stool in her bowling-alley kitchen, stirring a cup of Dunkin' Donuts coffee with a fork. The cup is stained with her purple-reddish lipstick. She's talking to Andrew, who stands with his back against the refrigerator.)
(In the adjoining living room, BHOPAL sits engrossed before a wide screen television set. He's watching the popular "Shelton's World" serial -- about that gang of lovable Jersey slacker dudes who never seem to leave their automobile. On today's show, SHELTON, rolling with his pals in the backseat, attempts to study for a community college psychology exam as they cruise at high speed down the Turnpike. While he watches, BHOPAL scarfs unenthusiastically from a box of Nilla Wafers.)
CHICKIE
I feel like shi.
SHELTON
Me tuh.
(Blast from the laugh track.)
SHELTON
(Leafing loudly through the psychology text.) This is so... gay.
DREW
Just study.
SHELTON
I know these people are just dissing Freud. (Pause.) Hey, what percentage of men dream about men?
CHICKIE
Gross.
SHELTON
Um... 60 per cent. (Dull pause.) This is the dreaming unit. O.K. What did Three Mile Island, Chernobyl, and the Exxon Valdez have in common?
DREW
(Absently.) Thomas Pynchon.
SHETON
(After half a beat.) People were sleepy.
(Yuks.)
SHELTON
(Peeping over DREW.) This is a weird stretch of the Turnpike. (After a pause.) Lookit.
DREW
What?
SHELTON
That's a crazy place to put a prison.
DREW
Prison?
SHELTON
It's nuts to put a prison right next to the turnpike like that.
CHICKIE
Where's the prison?
SHELTON
If I was in that prison I'd be figgety free so easy. I'd call up some... buddies.
DREW
I think that's part of the airport.
SHELTON
I'd call up some buddies to park on the Turnpike and wait while I cold bust out. Then we jus --
CHICKIE
(Honestly wondering.) How are you going to contact, call out from prison?
SHELTON
Visitation. Last phone call. Visitation --
CHICKIE
(Git outta here.) No way! No way can that happen.
PHIL
It's starting to ice over now.
CHICKIE
Don't you know anything about prison. They monitor all those conversations. There are bugs and spies and informers --
SHELTON
(Impatient with this lack of comprehension.) Idiot! I talk in code.
PHIL
It was better before.
CHICKIE
Like this: Whaddagin duddagon leddagin biddagun.
SHELTON
(Demonstrably.) No.
DREW
Maybe you ought to put on the wipers?
SHELTON
No. You just insinuate things. You don't have to be, you don't have to...
CHICKIE
O.K. Let's pretend I'm there visiting you. In prison and you're asking me to bust you out at 7:30 on Sunday. (Pause.) I'm behind the screen.
SHELTON
(After a beat.) That's easy.
CHICKIE
O.K.?
SHELTON
(Thinking, then in an earnest voice.) God, it would be great to see Monday Night Football.
(Blast from the laugh track.)
DREW
That oughta fool 'em.
SHELTON
No way! O.K. Seven of the guys in here are real dirty. Got real dirty minds. (Beginning to laugh.) They got dirty minds at seven thirty. Every night.
(CHICKIE looks at him. DREW continues to laugh.)
SHELTON
What?
CHICKIE
Face it. You're still in prison.
(Meanwhile, GILLIGAN submits to family wisdom.)
AUNT SHEULIE
I think you're maybe overreacting. Do you think you're overreacting?
GILLIGAN
No! I've got, I told you, my apartment was, everything was turned upside down.
AUNT SHEULIE
A strong wind maybe could have done that.
GILLIGAN
What? No! We got, death threats, I'm --
AUNT SHEULIE
You sure?
GILLIGAN
Yes, yes I'm sure.
AUNT SHEULIE
You sure it wasn't like, "I'm a little bit angry with you"?
GILLIGAN
No, it was like, I'm going to kill you, I'll kill you.
AUNT SHEULIE
And maybe you exaggerated, a little bit? You exaggerate stories, you know.
GILLIGAN
I'm not exaggerating.
AUNT SHEULIE
Well, who would make a threat like that on such a rainy day?
GILLIGAN
Just, just, I told you, he's --
AUNT SHEULIE
Oh my god.
GILLIGAN
What?
AUNT SHEULIE
(Panic.) There's a fly in here.
GILLIGAN
So, so we'll kill it.
AUNT SHEULIE
(Shielding her eyes.) Yuck, ugh, I can't even look. Is he by my face? Get him away from my face.
GILLIGAN
It's, no, it's up by the light.
AUNT SHEULIE
Oh, I hate it when they do that. Kill him, will you? Go ahead and kill him.
GILLIGAN
(Jumping, swatting with his hands.) Hey, get out of here, hey....
AUNT SHEULIE
Is he dead?
GILLIGAN
No, it flew into the pantry.
AUNT SHEULIE
Oh god. (Closing her eyes, she slams the pantry door shut.) Andrew! Why did you do that?
GILLIGAN
What, what did I do, I don't...
AUNT SHEULIE
Now he's gonna lay eggs, make himself at home in there. Oh my god.
GILLIGAN
Well, we could open the pa --
AUNT SHEULIE
(Ready to throw herself on the grenade.) Don't you dare! (Collecting herself.) We'll just leave him go in there, and he'll just, die out.
(Pause.)
AUNT SHEULIE
Eventually. (Pause. Leerily.) Do you wanna leave the apartment for a little while?
GILLIGAN
Um, sure.
AUNT SHEULIE
There's this new place down by the A&P. It's a French bistro.
GILLIGAN
It's a, a what?
AUNT SHEULIE
It's French, Andrew. Remember? You were liking French stuff?
GILLIGAN
(Not enthusiastically.) Oh! Well, yes, okay, let's go.
AUNT SHEULIE
How about that. You do something nice for a person, even after an argument, you don't know how to end an argument. You don't know when somebody is is trying to make peace.
GILLIGAN
I'm sorry. Really. (Pause.) Thanks. (Pause.) We'll go to the French bistro.
(The interior of a cafe. The architecture is considerably different from anything we've seen so far. It looks like a pristine franchise location -- more a Dunkin' Donuts than an outdoor patisserie or haphazard deli. It's part of the rapidly expanding Carpe Poulet chain of coffee houses -- located in corporate atriums, mall food courts, and cafe sections of multinational book retailers. The logo -- a dancing chicken with a beret on -- is stamped on everything from the napkins to the clock on the wall. Incidentally, the clock says it's six fifteen. Outside, the rain had let up, but dar, threatening clouds still cover the sky.)
(The cafe is laid out to suggest an outdoor Riviera setting. Each table has its own large umbrella, and a seascape fresco has been painted on the wall. The fresco is peopled with a random assortment of famous figures from French history, relaxing on the beach. This includes Charles de Gaulle, Maurice Chevalier, Brigitte Bardot, Charles Asnavour, Henri Petain, Renoir, Joan of Arc, Jean-Paul Sartre applying suntan oil to Simone de Bouvier's back, Rousseau, and Julia Child. In case you don't know who they are by their faces, there's a large box displaying their names just above their heads. Hanging by the door is a small birdcage that holds an ornery raven. The bird is cross, and it flutters its wings angrily against the cage.)
(The counter, filled with ossified-looking pastries and stale breads, is manned by a high school girl with blue nail polish and a streak of magenta running through her hair. She sits on a stool and reads from an issue of Vice.)
(An elaborate sound system blasts some gypsy acoustic guitar music. A husky voice obtrusively "sings" incomprehensible words in a demented Esperanto.)
THE ROMANY REGENTS
(Urgently, and repetitively)
Ferme la bouche!
Ferme la bouche!
Y limpia mi alfombro!
(And so on. GILLIGAN and ANUT SHEULIE need to raise their voices a bit to be heard over the din. AUNT SHEULIE is struggling with a brioche. Andrew sits with a cup of coffee, but he doesn't drink from it. The incessant fluttering of the bird has made him uneasy, and I think you could guess why.)
AUNT SHEULIE
Isn't this nice?
GILLIGAN
(Straining to hear her.) What?
AUNT SHEULIE
(Looking askance at the brioche.) I never know how to eat these things.
GILLIGAN
(To the girl at the counter, who ignores him.) Could you, turn that down a bit? Thanks.
AUNT SHEULIE
(Rummaging through her purse, and pulling out a packet of ketchup.) Whaja say?
(Squirting the ketchup on her napkin, she dips the brioche in it, and takes a big bite.)
AUNT SHEULIE
Me and my girlfriends come here sometimes. After work.
GILLIGAN
It's, it's very, thanks for the cup of --
(A loud flutter by the raven. Andrew snaps his head at it.)
AUNT SHEULIE
What's the matter. You seem a little jumpy. Are you still worried about that kid, listen, I'll tell you what, it's a misunderstanding.
GILLIGAN
No, it's not, could -- (Shouting at the counterperson.) Could you please turn the music down?
(The girl shoots Andrew a look of death. Exhaling bitterly, she puts down her magazine, walks over to the stereo, and turns the music down.)
AUNT SHEULIE
Listen, all you gotta do is tomorrow morning, bright and early, you go to the hospital, you tell him you had nothing to do with it, then everything's okay. Bring flowers.
GILLIGAN
Flowers?
AUNT SHEULIE
Flowers fix everything. Now, listen. You wait here. I gotta go to the bathroom.
(She gets up. GILLIGAN watches her walk to the bathroom, open the door, and disappear. The raven begins to freak out a bit, battering its wings against the cage, and even squawking. The counterperson continues to flip through her magazine.)
(Andrew begins to watch the second hand on the clock nervously. Two minutes elapse like this, and still there's no sign of AUNT SHEULIE. After another minute of waiting, GILLIGAN gets up and walks over to the ladies' room.)
GILLIGAN
(Through the door.) Aunt Sheulie? You in there?
(Now the counterperson looks at Andrew in amazement and despair.)
GILLIGAN
You in there?
(Nothing. Courageously, Andrew grabs the door handles, and barges in. Inside is a grubby industrial looking restroom with a cracked ceiling light, a small fan, and a single stall with no door. AUNT SHEULIE, seated on the toilet bowl, jumps up in embarrassment and panic at Andrew's entrance.)
AUNT SHEULIE
(Pulling up her pants.) Andrew! What the, are you crazy? I'm pooping!
GILLIGAN
(Covering his eyes.) Oh, my god, I'm sorry I just, I got worried.
AUNT SHEULIE
Worried? What?
GILLIGAN
It's, I, you've been in here so long, I...
AUNT SHEULIE
Andrew. I think you're going a little bit nutsy.
(Unbelievably ashamed -- are there no depths to which he won't sink? -- Andrew exits the ladies' room. Shutting the door behind him, GILLIGAN returns to the cafe eatery.)
(Yet something's changed. First of all, the music has stopped altogether. Secondly, the fluorescent lights illuminating the cafe seem to be burning with an odd intensity -- like flashes of magnesium phosphate. Andrew walks cautiously back to his table, then turns toward the cash register to look for the counterperson.)
(But she's not there.)
(There's a loud flutter. GILLIGAN swings toward the cage. There, where the raven should be, is the enclosed head of Guy de Mauppassant RABINOWITZ.)
RABINOWITZ
(Hissing between the bars.) Geee-leee-gahn!
GILLIGAN
(Bug-eyed, grasping hold of the table.) Oh, God, no...
RABINOWITZ
(Leering.) What eez za matter, Gee-lee-gahn. (Peeling the rest of his body through the wall.) I zought you might be meesing me.
(RABINOWITZ, now animated, weilds a thick baguette in his right hand. Framed by the fresco of the famous sun-bathing Frenchmen, he walks slowly toward Andrew. GILLIGAN cautiously backs up toward the counter and the pastry case.)
GILLIGAN
(Framed by an array of French bread products.) Um, hi, could you, uh, put that down a moment?
RABINOWITZ
(Framed by the cheesy portraits of French luminaries, and Julia Child.) Gee-lee-gahn ees not roo pleased to see hees friend Guy de Maupassant Rabinowitz today. Eees he? (Advancing.) I teach you ze class, ze culture, I teach you to be good wees weemen, and just like a feelthy American, you take, take, take whatever you want, and zen you turn on me!
GILLIGAN
No, I haven't, I appreciate, really, it's just, well, you tried to, uh, kill somebody.
RABINOWITZ
(Shrugging.) One time!
GILLIGAN
Well, I uh, look, please, please go away.
RABINOWITZ
Go away.
GILLIGAN
Yes. Please?
RABINOWITZ
(Sighing, turning for a moment.) Ah, so, Gee-lee-gahn. Eet has come to zis.
(RABINOWITZ looks down. Is he broken-hearted at this betrayal by his star pupil? He seems prepared to drop the baguette and walk away. GILLIGAN breathes out, and looks toward the door.)
(With a shout, RABINOWITZ raises the baguette and swings savagely at GILLIGAN, who ducks out of the way. The blow comes down hard on the display case, shattering it, and sending shards of glass and damaged pastries tumbling to the floor.)
(Wide-eyed, GILLIGAN grabs a baguette of his own from a day-old bin by the cash register. Desperately, he parries a flurry of maniacal attacks. The duel is on!)
(The sharp glass edges of the broken pastry display case point out at GILLIGAN's back as RABINOWITZ swings to push him closer to the skewers. Ducking down, Andrew slips under the vicious arc and, swinging underhand, cleats RABINOWITS in the chin. The French crusader drops back.)
RABINOWITZ
You weel die for zis!
(Running in a crouch, GILLIGAN springs for the door. Flinging it open, he dashes out onto the street, clutching his baguette. In pursuit is RABINOWITZ, brandishing the wicked stick.)
GILLIGAN
Help! Help!
(But nobody's there to help. There isn't even anybody out on the street. Damn edge cities...)
(The chase, and the struggle, continue. We see the baguetteers running determinedly, one looking to escape, the other to extinguish. RABINOWITZ catches up to Andrew on a desolate stretch of tarmac and sidewalk. Observant viewers will recognize the vista from Andrew's date with GENERICA, and if they don't, well, a flurry of savage blows that push the desperately parrying Andrew to the brink of the cliff wall reveal, over his shoulder, the Hudson County Waste Treatment Plant.)
GILLIGAN
(Fending off blows, in a cloud of flakes and breadcrumbs.) Oh, shit...
RABINOWITZ
(Striking at GILLIGAN, backing him against the parapet.) Now, scumbag, I weel push you where you belong. Eento the municipal toilet of your feelthy ceety!
GILLIGAN
It is not! Fuck you! It is not a feelthy city!
RABINOWITZ
(Furious.) Feelthy!
GILLIGAN
(Bent back, trying to keep his balance.) It is not!
RABINOWITZ
Feel --
(RABINOWITZ slips. He has stepped on a pile of un-pooper-scoopered dogshit. Moist with dew and rainwater, it's awfully slick. RABINOWITZ, losing his balance, skids against the cliffside wall. GILLIGAN, alertly, swings his baguette and strikes RABINOWITZ full on in the chest. With a shout, RABINOWITZ tumbles backward, and of the palisade.)
RABINOWITZ
(As he falls.) Merde!!!
(GILLIGAN clasps his hand over his mouth. There is a loud splash. GILLIGAN averts his eyes from the cliff. He drops the baguette.)
(Blackness.)
Return to Fit #9.
Forward to Fit #11.
Take it from the top.
