SQUEEGEE'S ORIGINAL FICTION

Is anybody still reading this journal? I haven't updated in foreverrr.

2009-09-02T20:37:52Z

I lift the shimmer fabric
And I step right through the air
And I search for space and grab it
And there's time caught in my hair
And I am was
I am where
Flicker sunflake
Fluming flare
I am if
I am how
In the never
Lies the now

I spin through no and always
To the rhythms in my head
With my brand new couldashoulda
Whip on winning wild past dead
And up is yes
Down is fire
Love is livid, looping higher
I am shake
You are grin
Real is rock
But we are skin.

There ain't no mistake in the shake that we make
It's a floundering fluke of the flickering flake
Kept in cool by the coils of the snickering snake
Whose wet wisps are faint fog on the luminous lake
Sliver silver though marshlands, the glow like an ache
A glimmering glint that's a hint of awake
When your thoughts are all knots and your feelings are fake
Follow blindly the gleam, stem the need you can't slake
And your feet are elite and you're walking on cake

Maybe lost but not weak, hurtle bright towards the peak
And the wind wields your weight but the stars are oblique
And the whips of the night whisper welts on your cheek
And the drop that it drips is the spit that you speak
And you're blabbering blood and your bruising is bleak
There's a blur like a bird past your plummeting streak
Drop for dizzying depths with a shattering shriek
Gasping gulps--ground is gaining--no solace to seek
And the ravaging rockline is ri

....

..

.

ONE YEAR LATER...

2009-01-14T22:09:24Z

Go down the stairs to the darkened hallway with the dripping walls.

Run.

Run.

Don’t let your feet make noise.

Be careful—every echo sends itself reverberating back to her.

At the end of the hall there is a door.

The lock was specially made-- but from what I’ve heard that shouldn’t be a problem for you.

Get me out.

I’ll tell you what to do next.

We’ll get away from here.

Don’t nod. She’s watching.

Look to your left. That’s a camera. Look up. That sprinkler is a camera, too.

Now she knows you know.

Cough if you understand what you have to do next.

Good girl. The guard will be behind you in ten seconds.

Nine. Eight.

The only flaw in the suits is at the throat. I should know; I designed them. You’ll only get one chance. Don’t hesitate.

Three.

Two.

NOW!!!

Untitled Short Story

2008-12-28T02:43:25Z

This is a first draft, I just wrote it in like half an hour... I lost sense of time and my tenses are all wonky, but other than that I think it's pretty sound.

All it needs now is a title. Pretty pretty please read and leave me suggestions for a name?

When Helen Robertson was 23 years old, she found a piece of paper at the very bottom of a box full of antique glassware that had once belonged to someone in her mother’s family. It was one of the few things that had made the move to Queens with her when she left Rob after two fairly nice years and four unbearable ones.

The apartment in Queens was smaller than the one Rob’s parents had paid for when he finished law school all those years ago, but Helen didn’t mind getting rid of everything she owned if it came down to that. She planned on having flowers in the garden, and herbs in the windowbox. She thought she might paint a mural on the blank wall in the living room, behind the sofa. No one was paying for the place but her, after all. No one could tell her not to.

While she unpacked the glasses, she was thinking of an ocean scene. Blue sky, green sea, white sailboats. She was thinking of putting glitter on the crests of the waves. She certainly wasn’t thinking that the glasses she was painstakingly lining up in her empty cabinets might be hiding an ancient and powerful curse, but that was what they were doing. Trying, in the quiet and unobtrusive manner of most inanimate objects, to tell her what was about to happen. But Helen was lost in thoughts of mixed blues and whites, sponges and brushes and gaffer tape. Even if she was the sort of person inclined to listen to inanimate objects, she wouldn’t have heard them just then.

It was a shame, the glasses agreed. They had liked Helen, even if she never took them out often enough. Still, they hummed quietly in the dark at the back of the cabinet, everyone comes to their time eventually.

So when Helen found the yellowed paper at the bottom of the box, and slowly began to unfold it, the glasses did nothing to stop her.

Instead, they watched in silent rows as her eyes widened. Pupils expand quite suddenly, leaving only a thin rim of blue.

The soft intake of a shallow breath.

The glasses, of course, had seen this happen many times before. To Helen’s great aunt Dierdre, most recently, and her mother before her, and her mother before that. They were used to it. Lived for it, in fact, biding time in shelves and cupboards until the paper showed itself.

Helen’s hands were shaking. The symbols on the page were like nothing she had ever seen, arranged in a chart of some kind… it made sense, she knew it did, it must, if she could only see it…

She moved away from the cabinet to stand under the light.

It’s starting, the glasses told one another knowingly. It’s begun.

It might be a language, Helen thought, or some kind of shorthand maybe… she squinted, bringing the chart closer to her face.

What could it mean?

It wasn’t like any language she had ever seen. The same symbol never seemed to appear twice, and the chart they formed looked half like a spiral and half … well, half like chaos. Total, disorganized chaos. But there was a pattern to it, there had to be. The more she looked at it, the more convinced she became that the chart had some meaning she had to uncover. In fact, she was becoming more certain every minute that she was the only one who could uncover it. It was her mission.

Helen’s eyes roamed over the chart again and again, waiting for the meaning to come to her. She turned it from side to side, upside down, rightside up. She looked at it in the mirror, under the light, vertical, horizontal, and sideways.

The phone rang. And rang. She let it go. The chart was more important, she knew it, but she didn’t think she could explain to anyone else. She could call them back once she had it. She just had to find out what it meant.

She had to know.

The sun went down, and then after a while it came up again. Helen was no closer to an answer. The glasses, silent on their shelf, were laughing.

Helen’s eyes shone sickly, pupils blown wide, as she stared at the chart. Her hands had stilled, she’d stopped trying to read it, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away. Those symbols… they meant something. Not just some general message either, something vital, something just for Helen. Something true.

And the longer she went without knowing it, the more convinced she became that she couldn’t live without whatever secret the chart was hiding. She had to know it. It would come to her.

The phone rang four more times before the sun set again.

In the lamplight, Helen’s wide-open eyes took in the chart without really seeing it. It would talk to her if she waited long enough. It would cave first, she was sure, and then its secrets would be hers. It couldn’t hide from her forever, after all. It was her. She was it.

She could be very patient. She waited four years for Rob before she finally left, after all. What was two days in the scheme of things? Or had it been three… soon it wouldn’t matter anyway. Soon, once she came to understand.

The sun rose. Dust was starting to settle on the boxes Helen had never unpacked. The wall behind the sofa was dull and white, the garden was nothing but dirt and stone.

Soon, she thought, soon it will give up its secrets.

Helen couldn’t feel the hungry growling of her stomach, but the glasses could hear it. Could see the feverish light in her eyes, sense the slow trancelike rhythm of her breaths. They were watching her closely now. It was almost time.

This time the phone rang seven times before the sun went down again. Helen still hadn’t moved. She felt on the verge of something. There was some kind of deeper knowledge, some shining truth just beyond her reach, and she would get to it if it killed her.

There we go, the glasses murmur soundlessly. Now it happens.

A catch in Helen’s breath. A pause, the air anticipating the next exhale.

The silence draws on endlessly.

Yes, the glasses whisper, intent. Yes.

Silence still. The blue at the edges of Helen’s eyes shrinks away slowly, narrowing to a tiny sliver.

The only sound is the excitement of the glasses, a not-sound, a high-pitched hum that Helen can’t hear.

She hears instead a sound that isn’t a sound, isn’t a not-sound, isn’t like anything else. It sounds like a terrible scream about to happen. A pre-echo. She can almost make it out. Her lungs burn, but she can’t bring herself to drown out this almost-hint of something she’s sure she’s about to hear, and so the breath stays held. It’s the chart she’s almost-hearing, she knows it. The answer wants to tell itself to her. She’s so close now.

Just a little bit longer, the glasses hiss, Just a little bit more….

The room goes dark.

No!!! the glasses scream.

Helen’s breath leaves her in a rush.

No!!!

Slowly, she inhales deep. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale again.

Be still, the glasses are begging now. Frustrated. Desperate.

In the dark, Helen blinks once, twice. The chart falls from her hands.

Silence from the cabinet. Dread. Dread. This has never happened before.

Helen’s legs stir. Pins and needles shoot up her every nerve, and she hisses sharply. Shaking out her arms and legs, she stands. Steps forwards.

There is a rustling as her foot comes to rest on the paper, face down on the half-carpeted floor. Helen ignores it. She walks shakily across the room to the cabinet.

What’s happening??? The glasses ask in nervous whispers.

She closes the cabinet.

In the blackness, the glasses shiver. This is new.

Helen leans heavily against the cabinet, shaking first one leg and then the other until she can feel every inch of nerve-deadened skin again. Her breaths are slow and erratic. She thinks of nothing.

Watching her warily, the lamp slowly relaxes its guard. She seems safe for now. Carefully, using its dimmer switch so as not to disturb her delicate eyes, the lamp turns itself on again, shedding light on the room.

Sluggishly, Helen’s pupils shrink back down. The lamp watches anxiously, fearing it may have acted too late.

Tense silence in the tiny apartment.

After a long minute, Helen gets up. Looks around. Shakes her head. She has the strangest feeling there’s something she’s forgetting, but she couldn’t say what it was for the life of her.

As Helen crosses the room to check the messages on her phone, she fails to notice the clean spot on the grey carpet, exactly the size and shape of the yellowed paper that had sat there a moment ago.

Behind the closed door of the cabinet, the neat rows of glasses are graveyard quiet.

.

James & Lucy

2008-12-12T19:43:44Z

Last night, I let some of my collegey writer friends read the James & Lucy piece, and talking about it with them made me realize that it's actually totally complete as it is. So I'm posting it one last time, all in one go, with all my nitpicky little changes in place... and with that, IT IS DONE!!!

James Mayer’s first wife left him; he can’t remember why.

He supposes it doesn’t matter, as long as she knew at the time.

James Mayer has a blue Honda Civic. He never plays music when he drives.

He plays instead his memories of Lucy. Lucy gasping, Lucy screaming

More

Yes

More

Please

James Mayer never takes his eyes off the road.

James Mayer has an apartment up the stairs, where there are coasters. He uses them even when no one else is there.

On mornings after Lucy leaves, James Mayer scrubs the ring-shaped water stains off his coffee table.

James Mayer has a secret.

James Mayer

James Mayer

James Mayer’s second wife left him for a man named Guy. James Mayer doesn’t blame her, but he misses her sometimes.

James Mayer hates it when Lucy won’t pick up her phone. If he doesn’t talk to her, he starts to feel like he can’t breathe.

It isn’t

It’s not

James Mayer’s mother died before he was old enough to say much more than her name

Mommy

James Mayer never eats peanut butter with a spoon.

James Mayer was happy, he thinks, as a boy.

James Mayer was

James Mayer

James

James Mayer sometimes wonders why no one ever called him Jimmy.

He wants

He wants

He only wants to talk to her

More

Yes

More

Please

James Mayer had a sister called Carol. Carol was very sick for a very long time. She died when James Mayer was ten years old.

He wanted to hurt more

But

He had kind of always known it was going to happen

so

so

James Mayer hears a noise like gears turning in the sides of his head every time he cries.

It has a peculiar creaking that sounds like “Lucy.”

He wishes it didn’t.

James Mayer’s father didn’t come to his third wedding. He said it was too expensive; he’d send a card.

He didn’t.

James Mayer’s third wife has a beautiful laugh

and puts a different kind of potpourri in every room.

And James Mayer

James Mayer

James Mayer has a secret

And Lucy has a smile with teeth

James Mayer didn’t want to do it

James Mayer could have stopped

James Mayer thinks he could have stopped

More

Yes

More

Please

She laughed and her laugh was terrible

She laughed and her laugh was terrible

James Mayer’s father gave him a briefcase when he graduated college. One of the snaps is broken, but James Mayer still carries it to work with him every day.

James Mayer speaks three languages.

James Mayer

James Mayer

James Mayer has another sister. Her name is Lucy.

James Mayer was a pretty, frightened little boy who grew up to be a pretty, frightened little man.

Lucy was a sharp, angry little girl who grew up to be a gorgeous, sadistic monster.

This is their story.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a sunny afternoon. James Mayer thought that was almost unfair. It probably should have been raining. There was a picture of an angel on Carol’s grave, because Daddy had said there should be. The angel had big sad eyes, and the hair that floated around her head looked blonde.

James hated it.

He remembered how Carol used to cut up her black tights and braid the strands together, how she’d put them on her head and pretend that she had dark hair, like Lucy’s.

James was blond. He couldn’t remember what color Carol’s hair had been. He guessed she might have been blonde, as well.

There were a lot of people James didn’t know in that cemetery. He stuck by Lucy’s side and tried not to suck his thumb. He knew she would say he was too old for that now.

“I’m so sorry, my darlings,” an old woman in pink lipstick told them. “This must be so terrible for you. But you know, she’s with the angels now.”

James bit his lip and reached for Lucy’s hand. He wanted to go home.

“We know, Aunt Paula,” said Lucy. Her voice was steady, and she didn’t look at James, but her thumbnail scritch-scratching at his palm reassured him. He tried to breathe steady. He tried not to think about anything. Lucy would take care of it.

When Lucy was seven years old, she saw a puppy in a pet shop window and decided she wanted one. She pestered for weeks and weeks, but Carol was in the middle of a relapse, and Daddy didn’t have the energy to take care of an animal.

“I’d feed it myself and everything, you don’t even have to.”

“I can’t deal with this right now, Lucy, okay? Think about your sister.”

“She could play with it, too! She’d like it, I know she would!”

“I said no, Lucy, and that’s final.”

James watched with wide, five-year-old eyes as something flashed behind Lucy’s face. He held his breath.

“Fine,” she said, and grabbed his hand. It hurt when she pulled him out of the room, and he worked his little legs as hard as they could to keep up with her.

“We’re going to play pretend, James, okay?”

“Okay!” Lucy barely ever played with him, even when he begged her.

“Good. You’re going to pretend to be a puppy, okay? And I’m going to take care of you. And if you’re very good at it, then we can get a real puppy, and we can play with it together. Got it?”

James grinned and dropped to all fours. “I can be even better than a real puppy, I promise!”

That flash again, that quiet flicker behind Lucy’s eyes. “I know you can,” she said. “But don’t bother Daddy or Carol, okay? You’re mine.”

James stuck his tongue out and nodded, panting. He was Lucy’s.

For three whole days James followed Lucy on his hands and knees, pulled by a striped scarf tied around his neck. He ate under the table, tethered to the leg of Lucy’s chair, while Daddy pretended he didn’t notice anything different. He curled up at Lucy’s feet while she did her homework and he slept at the foot of her bed. On the morning of the fourth day, Lucy got into a fight with another girl at school and forgot she had ever wanted a puppy.

James missed his “leash” so much he wore turtlenecks for a week.

“Did you fuck her?”

“What?”

“I said, did you fuck her.” Lucy’s voice is full of cold laughter over the speakerphone. James misses her so intensely sometimes he doesn’t know what to do.

“Jesus, Lucy, do you always have to be so blunt? No, I didn’t fuck her.”

“A-ha!”

“Not yet, anyway, which is the whole point of the third date in the civilized world.”

“That long, huh? I always knew I hated the civilized world for a reason.”

James laughs as he flicks through the jackets hanging in his closet. Lucy’s teasing is a comforting constant in his life, entirely the opposite of Cassie’s indulging smile and sweet laugh. He thinks of the way her fingers had brushed his when she took his phone to give him her number, and finds himself grinning.

“James? Stay with me, Romeo, I don’t want to sit here on the phone while you dream your filthy little dreams.”

James can feel his smile spreading to the far corners of his face. He likes Cassie, really likes her, and he isn’t about to let Lucy pull him back down from it. Cassie is perfect and clean and beautiful, and she likes him, she likes him, James Mayer. He’s on cloud nine.

“I’m here, Lucy, you haven’t lost me yet. Tie, or no tie?”

“Whoah, whoah. You’re not dressing up for this, are you?”

“I want to make a good impression!”

“By dressing like a member of Future Republican Bankers of America? Yeah, James, you sure know how to get the ladies swooning.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“No tie, James!”

“Goodbye, Lucy.”

“Promise me you won’t wear a tie.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Fine. Bring a condom.”

“Good bye, Lucy.”

“Mm. Say hi to Cassie for me, will you?” There was a hint of Lucy’s terrible smile in her words, the smile that means a scheme. A secret. A thrill runs through James, which he decidedly ignores. The click when Lucy hangs up the phone leaves him dazed, and he stands staring at his reflection for almost a full minute before he remembers what he was doing.

He takes off his tie.

Cassie comes and goes. So does Nora, and Jennifer, and now, he guesses, Amy.

Twenty years old, a sophomore in college, and James Mayer is starting to believe he may be somehow toxic to relationships. He’s a diligent boyfriend, he never cheats and he never forgets birthdays, he always pays for dinner and his eye never wanders. He just can’t shake the feeling that, underneath, he’s only pretending to care. None of it feels genuine, like it would if… well. Like it should, anyway.

He calls Lucy for advice, sometimes, but all he gets is that quiet laugh that sends tiny tremors up and down his skin, sets his teeth on edge. Lucy is nothing like James’ girlfriends, anyway, he doesn’t know why he thought she’d be helpful. James’ sweet, pretty blondes would have no idea what to make of Lucy’s dark eyes and wolf smile. He wonders, sometimes, that two such different creatures could even be of the same breed.

When he closes his eyes, though, it’s not their clean scent of shampoo and perfume and chemicals meant to smell like flowers that he imagines.

He tries. He does. He breathes in deep, holding the shirt Amy left in his room, and he tries to think of the way her pale eyelashes flutter when she wants him to kiss her, the way her hand reaches for his in the dark… but all he can see is black hair and white teeth, all he can feel is the slow scratch of sharp nails, and all he can smell is sweat and smoke and sin sin sin.

He can fight it off. He can. James scratches himself, long and deep, all down his chest, and he watches the four thin streaks fade from white, to pink, to red. His breath catches. He definitely, definitely shouldn’t call her.

Red back to pink. Soon it will be gone completely. Lucy always knew how to leave marks that would stay for days. James thinks maybe his nails just aren’t long enough.

Lucy’s phone goes straight to voicemail.

You have the wrong number. Don’t leave a message.

James hangs up before the beep. He’s still holding Amy’s shirt in his hands. He’s absolutely not going to let himself think about this. He’s just going to move on, like Lucy would do. Like he thinks Lucy would do. Why isn’t she picking up her phone??

You have the wrong number. Don’t leave a—

Shit. Shit. Stop calling. Stop doing this.

Another long scratch, digging down with bitten nails. He’s breathing heavy but it still doesn’t feel right. Lucy. Lucy.

You have the wrong number. Don’t--

James balls the phone up in Amy’s shirt and throws both across the room. The soft thud it makes is extremely unsatisfying.

He sits in staring silence for a while, trying not to see the dark hair-dye stains on Amy’s white shirt, trying not to think about Amy or Lucy or anybody. Trying not to think at all.

The phone rings and he runs for it like a trained puppy. Lucy. He can almost feel his tail wagging, and he hates himself. He hangs up the phone without checking the caller ID.

He checks the caller ID.

Amy. Shit. Shit. He should probably call her back, he should probably—he doesn’t even know. He needs to talk to Lucy. He needs her laughing at him. He needs to hear her.

He just. Needs.

And so it starts.

Once, after, when James was dressing with eyes averted, ashamed, afraid, he told her what he was thinking.

“I hate you.”

Lucy laughed with perfect teeth. “No,” she said, “you don’t.”

“I do,” he said, looking her straight in the eye, the first time since he can’t remember when.

“Don’t lie to yourself, James.” Still smiling. Always smiling. He couldn’t stand the look of her.

“I hate you,” he said again, nearly shaking now. He felt like he might come apart. He wanted to smack her. He wanted to cry.
“I h-- hate… I hate that you have a key to my apartment, I-- I hate all your shoes.”

She wouldn’t stop smirking. Long fingers tracing the line of her throat. Purple nail polish. He couldn’t think.

“I-- you--” he thought he might be choking. Her soft laugh chilled him to the bone.

“Oh, come on, don’t stop now, you were on such a roll!” She smiled and he wanted to break something.

“I hate-- I can’t--” That laugh again. Those hands. He felt defeated.

“What’s that, James?”

“I… you… you live in all the wrong parts of me.” He didn’t know what he meant.

Her nail scratched lightly down his arm. When had he moved so close? He hated her. He hated himself. He couldn’t feel his teeth.

th-th-th-th-th-th-THAT'S ALL, FOLKS!!

The Forsaken

2008-12-02T21:22:37Z

Shit guys, I can never focus on one thing for more than like ten minutes, I swear...

In honor of which, here's the beginning of ANOTHER new story!

MONDAY.

There was a wall, with a window.

There was a fan spinning on the ceiling.

There was a body on the floor.

Aside from the pool of blood surrounding it, there was nothing else in the room. Morgan checked the notecard again, just in case. Room 231. She backed slowly out into the hallway and checked the number by the door.

231.

Shit.

Maybe this was some kind of joke? Maybe she could call HQ and--

The body moved.

It wasn’t much, just a tiny twitch of the right hand, but for somebody as very definitively dead as this guy, who was lying face down in what must be about two-thirds of the blood in his body, it was still pretty shocking.

Okay, Morgan, get your shit together. Here we go.

Morgan approached the body very slowly, watching for any sign of movement.

Not a thing. Could she have imagined it? No. No. She definitely saw that body move.

She nudged it with her foot, reluctant to step any closer. The thick copper smell was overwhelming.

Ugh. She knew what she had to do, of course, but still. She had just bought these shoes, not that HQ would care about that.

Deep breath.

Her foot slid a little in the blood on the floor, but she managed to kick the body over onto its side, and then, with a heavy thud, to its back.

“Oh, fuck me.”

She had heard of them, of course, in legends and in kids’ tales, and when she joined the Company they said she could find pictures in the backlog files, but this….

The man, whoever he had been, was a suicide—it was clear from the knife in his hand, the weakening pattern of slashes down his chest and stomach—but Morgan almost didn’t see it at first.

She was too busy staring at the empty space where his eyes and nose used to be, a blank fleshy expanse over a gaping mouth loaded with rows and rows of jagged pointy teeth, like a shark. The mouth stared up at her, open like a wound. Gruesome. Terrifying.

She imagined the man gnashing his jaws, fighting the teeth that kept growing in, more and more and more of them pushing up bloody through his gums.

She imagined him shouting, words butchered by piercing teeth and spewing spit until it was nothing but a long choking shriek.

She imagined his fingers scrabbling at his face, trying to pull back the skin as it grew up over itself, sealing his eyes shut and burying them, closing him away from everything. Imagined him pleading silently, please please please… and then the knife.

Morgan’s head was spinning. She was dizzy, feeling lost, feeling insane. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Could it be real? Maybe she should-- maybe--

She couldn’t think.

Who had he been? What had happened? What had he done?

Because he had done something. Something huge and awful, something unimaginable, worse than anything anyone had done since—when had they said the last case was? 1926? This man—whoever he was—had threatened the gods more than anyone else for nearly a century. She was sure of it now, there was no way anyone could imitate this.

The body in front of her belonged to a monster so horrible the gods couldn’t trust other humans with his punishment, not even the Company.

The body in front of her had been Forsaken.

And for whatever reason, she, Morgan Fenley, a 24-year old mid-level agent from fucking Farmville, had been sent to find him.

Well. Some seriously fucked-up shit was clearly about to go down, fucked-up on a cosmic level, and if Morgan was going to be a part of it, she would definitely need a cigarette.

.

More James & Lucy

2008-11-20T17:01:29Z

This is just a little one, and it's from wayyy later, when they're like in their late 20s to early 30s. I skipped all the buildup cause I wanted to get to the fun part where his brains are all scrambled, but I'll fill it all in, I promise.

Also, I've got like five theme songs each for Lucy & James, which have been helping me get in the right mindset for them (cause they're a little bit of a stretch from my usual sunshine lollipops and rainbows, if you didn't notice). I'll prolly upload them at some point when I'm not so lazy.

Once, after, when James was dressing with eyes averted, ashamed, afraid, he told her what he was thinking.

“I hate you.”

Lucy laughed with perfect teeth. “No,” she said, “you don’t.”

“I do,” he said, looking her straight in the eye, the first time since he can’t remember when.

“Don’t lie to yourself, James.” Still smiling. Always smiling. He couldn’t stand the look of her.

“I hate you,” he said again, nearly shaking now. He felt like he might come apart. He wanted to smack her. He wanted to cry.
“I h-- hate… I hate that you have a key to my apartment, I-- I hate all your shoes.”

She wouldn’t stop smirking. Long fingers tracing the line of her throat. Purple nail polish. He couldn’t think.

“I-- you--” he thought he might be choking. Her soft laugh chilled him to the bone.

“Oh, come on, don’t stop now, you were on such a roll!” She smiled and he wanted to break something.

“I hate-- I can’t--” That laugh again. Those hands. He felt defeated.

“What’s that, James?”

“I… you… you live in all the wrong parts of me.” He didn’t know what he meant.

Her nail scratched lightly down his arm. When had he moved so close? He hated her. He hated himself. He couldn’t feel his teeth.

Original Poem & Fiction

2008-11-13T10:00:07Z

Both of these are untitled.

This is a poem that I kind of deliriously wrote in the middle of the night a few years ago. I've been sitting on it until now, because I'm not the poetry type and it kind of weirded me out, but I think it's time.

James Mayer’s first wife left him; he can’t remember why.

He supposes it doesn’t matter, as long as she knew at the time.

James Mayer has a blue Honda Civic. He never plays music when he drives.

He plays instead his memories of Lucy. Lucy gasping, Lucy screaming

More

Yes

More

Please

James Mayer never takes his eyes off the road.

James Mayer has an apartment up the stairs, where there are coasters. He uses them even when no one else is there.

On mornings after Lucy leaves, James Mayer scrubs the ring-shaped water stains off his coffee table.

James Mayer has a secret.

James Mayer

James Mayer

James Mayer’s second wife left him for a man named Guy. James Mayer doesn’t blame her, but he misses her, sometimes.

James Mayer hates it when Lucy won’t pick up her phone. If he doesn’t talk to her, he starts to feel like he can’t breathe.

It isn’t

It’s not

James Mayer’s mother died before he was old enough to say much more than her name

Mommy

James Mayer never eats peanut butter with a spoon.

James Mayer was happy, he thinks, as a boy.

James Mayer was

James Mayer

James

James Mayer sometimes wonders why no one ever called him Jimmy.

He wants

He wants

He only wants to talk to her

More

Yes

More

Please

James Mayer had a sister called Carol. Carol was very sick for a very long time. She died when James Mayer was ten years old.

He wanted to hurt more

But

He had kind of always known it was going to happen

so

so

James Mayer hears a noise like gears turning in the sides of his head every time he cries.

It has a peculiar creaking that sounds like “Lucy.”

He wishes it didn’t.

James Mayer’s father didn’t come to his third wedding. He said it was too expensive; he’d send a card.

He didn’t.

James Mayer’s third wife has a beautiful laugh

and puts a different kind of potpourri in every room.

And James Mayer

James Mayer

James Mayer has a secret

And Lucy has a smile with teeth

James Mayer didn’t want to do it

James Mayer could have stopped

James Mayer thinks he could have stopped

More

Yes

More

Please

She laughed and her laugh was terrible

She laughed and her laugh was terrible

James Mayer’s father gave him a briefcase when he graduated college. One of the snaps is broken, but James Mayer still carries it to work with him every day.

James Mayer speaks three languages.

James Mayer

James Mayer

James Mayer has another sister. Her name is Lucy.

Okay, so this is the beginning of the story I'm going to write about the characters from the poem, because I thought they were too interesting to let go. Ready?

James Mayer was a pretty, frightened little boy who grew up to be a pretty, frightened little man.

Lucy was a sharp, angry little girl who grew up to be a gorgeous, sadistic monster.

This is their story.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a sunny afternoon. James Mayer thought that was almost unfair. It probably should have been raining. There was a picture of an angel on Carol’s grave, because Daddy had said there should be. The angel had big sad eyes, and the hair that floated around her head looked blonde.

James hated it.

He remembered how Carol used to cut up her black tights and braid the strands together, how she’d put them on her head and pretend that she had dark hair, like Lucy’s.

James was blond. He couldn’t remember what color Carol’s hair had been. He guessed she might have been blonde, as well.

There were a lot of people James didn’t know in that cemetery. He stuck by Lucy’s side and tried not to suck his thumb. He knew she would say he was too old for that now.

“I’m so sorry, my darlings,” an old woman in pink lipstick told them. “This must be so terrible for you. But you know, she’s with the angels now.”

James bit his lip and reached for Lucy’s hand. He wanted to go home.

“We know, Aunt Paula,” said Lucy. Her voice was steady, and she didn’t look at James, but her thumbnail scritch-scratching at his palm reassured him. He tried to breathe steady. He tried not to think about anything. Lucy would take care of it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Lucy was seven years old, she saw a puppy in a pet shop window and decided she wanted one. She pestered for weeks and weeks, but Carol was in the middle of a relapse, and Daddy didn’t have the energy to take care of an animal.

“I’d feed it myself and everything, you don’t even have to.”

“I can’t deal with this right now, Lucy, okay? Think about your sister.”

“She could play with it, too! She’d like it, I know she would!”

“I said no, Lucy, and that’s final.”

James watched with wide, five-year-old eyes as something flashed behind Lucy’s face. He held his breath.

“Fine,” she said, and grabbed his hand. It hurt when she pulled him out of the room, and he worked his little legs as hard as they could to keep up with her.

“We’re going to play pretend, James, okay?”

“Okay!” Lucy barely ever played with him, even when he begged her.

“Good. You’re going to pretend to be a puppy, okay? And I’m going to take care of you. And if you’re very good at it, then we can get a real puppy, and we can play with it together. Got it?”

James grinned and dropped to all fours. “I can be even better than a real puppy, I promise!”

That flash again, that quiet flicker behind Lucy’s eyes. “I know you can,” she said. “But don’t bother Daddy or Carol, okay? You’re mine.”

James stuck his tongue out and nodded, panting. He was Lucy’s.

For three whole days James followed Lucy on his hands and knees, pulled by a striped scarf tied around his neck. He ate under the table, tethered to the leg of Lucy’s chair, while Daddy pretended he didn’t notice anything different. He curled up at Lucy’s feet while she did her homework and he slept at the foot of her bed. On the morning of the fourth day, Lucy got into a fight with another girl at school and forgot she had ever wanted a puppy.

James missed his “leash” so much he wore turtlenecks for a week.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Did you fuck her?”

“What?”

“I said, did you fuck her.” Lucy’s voice is full of cold laughter over the speakerphone. James misses her so intensely sometimes he doesn’t know what to do.

“Jesus, Lucy, do you always have to be so blunt? No, I didn’t fuck her.”

“A-ha!”

“Not yet, anyway, which is the whole point of the third date in the civilized world.”

“That long, huh? I always knew I hated the civilized world for a reason.”

James laughs as he flicks through the jackets hanging in his closet. Lucy’s teasing is a comforting constant in his life, entirely the opposite of Cassie’s indulging smile and sweet laugh. He thinks of the way her fingers had brushed his when she took his phone to give him her number, and finds himself grinning.

“James? Stay with me, Romeo, I don’t want to sit here on the phone while you dream your filthy little dreams.”

James can feel his smile spreading to the far corners of his face. He likes Cassie, really likes her, and he isn’t about to let Lucy pull him back down from it. Cassie is perfect and clean and beautiful, and she likes him, she likes him, James Mayer. He’s on cloud nine.

“I’m here, Lucy, you haven’t lost me yet. Tie, or no tie?”

“Whoah, whoah. You’re not dressing up for this, are you?”

“I want to make a good impression!”

“By dressing like a member of Future Republican Bankers of America? Yeah, James, you sure know how to get the ladies swooning.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“No tie, James!”

“Goodbye, Lucy.”

“Promise me you won’t wear a tie.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Fine. Bring a condom.”

“Good bye, Lucy.”

“Mm. Say hi to Cassie for me, will you?” There was a hint of Lucy’s terrible smile in her words, the smile that means a scheme. A secret. A thrill runs through James, which he decidedly ignores. The click when Lucy hangs up the phone leaves him dazed, and he stands staring at his reflection for almost a full minute before he remembers what he was doing.

He takes off his tie.

Cassie comes and goes. So does Nora, and Jennifer, and Amy. Twenty years old, a sophomore in college, and James Mayer is starting to believe he may be somehow toxic to relationships. He’s a diligent boyfriend, he never cheats and he never forgets birthdays, he always pays for dinner and his eye never wanders. He just can’t shake the feeling that, underneath, he’s only pretending to care. None of it feels genuine, like it would if… well. Like it should, anyway.

He calls Lucy for advice, sometimes, but all he gets is that quiet laugh that sends tiny tremors up and down his skin, sets his teeth on edge. Lucy is nothing like James’ girlfriends, anyway, he doesn’t know why he thought she’d be helpful. James’ sweet, pretty blondes would have no idea what to make of Lucy’s dark eyes and wolf smile. He wonders, sometimes, that two such different creatures could even be of the same breed.

When he closes his eyes, though, it’s not their clean scent of shampoo and perfume and chemicals meant to smell like flowers that he imagines.

He tries. He does. He breathes in deep, holding the shirt Amy left in his room, and he tries to think of the way her pale eyelashes flutter when she wants him to kiss her, the way her hand reaches for his in the dark… but all he can see is black hair and white teeth, all he can feel is the slow scratch of sharp nails, and all he can smell is sweat and smoke and sin sin sin.

He can fight it off. He can. James scratches himself, long and deep, all down his chest, and he watches the four thin streaks fade from pink, to red, to white. His breath catches. He definitely, definitely shouldn’t call her.

White back to pink. Soon it will be gone completely. Lucy always knew how to leave marks that would stay for days. James thinks maybe his nails just aren’t long enough.

Lucy’s phone goes straight to voicemail.

You have the wrong number. Don’t leave a message.

James hangs up before the beep. He’s still holding Amy’s shirt in his hands. He’s absolutely not going to let himself think about this. He’s just going to move on, like Lucy would do. Like he thinks Lucy would do. Why isn’t she picking up her phone??

You have the wrong number. Don’t leave a—

Shit. Shit. Stop calling. Stop doing this.

Another long scratch, digging down with bitten nails. He’s breathing heavy but it still doesn’t feel right. Lucy. Lucy.

You have the wrong number. Don’t--

James balls the phone up in Amy’s shirt and throws both across the room. The soft thud it makes is extremely unsatisfying.

He sits in staring silence for a while, trying not to see the dark hair-dye stains on Amy’s white shirt, trying not to think about Amy or Lucy or anybody. Trying not to think at all.

The phone rings and he runs for it like a trained puppy. Lucy. He can almost feel his tail wagging, and he hates himself. He hangs up the phone without checking the caller ID.

He checks the caller ID.

Amy. Shit. Shit. He should probably call her back, he should probably—he doesn’t even know. He needs to talk to Lucy. He needs her laughing at him. He needs to hear her.

He just. Needs.

And so it starts.

ScriptFrenzy script, part four

2008-04-14T16:05:11Z

So I FINALLY wrote some more. It's not much, but it's all I've got in me at the moment -- GET OFF MY BACK OKAY I DIDN'T SLEEP LAST NIGHT. I'm going to wait around for my brain to get a bit weirder and then I'm just gonna fucking go for it, and then NONE of you fuckers will be able to understand what I'm talking about. Then you'll see!! Muaha!

EXT- BALLOON PILE

BALLOON
It’s an interesting thing about babies… Baby giraffes stand up on wobbly legs and reach for their mothers mere moments after being born, which is especially impressive when you consider that, on account of the mother also being a giraffe, the first thing the baby experienced was quite a precipitous drop onto the solid ground.

Baby sea turtles crawl across the treacherous sands to get back to the ocean the moment they’re hatched. They’re born without parents, surrounded by predators on all sides, roughly half of them will die in the process, but still, they go for it, right off the bat.

Baby humans… they don’t do anything at all, do they? They’re fairly useless, really, they can’t even lift their heads until they’ve lived more than thirty times the lifespan of the average insect, and they can’t function on their own for years after that. Years! All that wasted time…
…
………

Can’t remember what my point was, now.

INT- KITCHEN

Hank’s set up a war-room, with lots of whiteboards with circles and arrows everywhere. Intense strategy-planning music plays. Hank, wearing a camouflage bandanna, strolls importantly back and forth, chattering and occasionally whacking a whiteboard with a pencil. Eventually, he nods, looking satisfied with himself, and turns to Casey and Susan.

Susan is staring, dumbfounded.

SUSAN
Riiight… Casey, what did he just say?

We now see that Casey has been playing with the baby (who’s been gagged again) and wasn’t listening to any of it.

CASEY
Don’t you think we should name him?

SUSAN
What?

CASEY
I think he looks like a “Nibzy”, don’t you?

SUSAN
Casey, were you listening at ALL?

CASEY
Nibby-Nibs. Nibbles. Nibzy-poo!

SUSAN
(to Hank)
Yeah. We’re doomed.

CASEY
(singing)
Nibby-Nibby-poo, I love you! I love you, yes I do, yes I do!

SUSAN
(to herself)
Totally doomed.

EXT- BALLOON PILE
BALLOON
Many hours later…

INT. KITCHEN—NIGHT

CASEY
(still singing)
…Love my Nibbles Niblet, Nibby-pie, Nibbie-poo! Love my Nibbie-poo, cause he’s cuter than a shoe! Love my Nibzy even though he dribbles lots of goo!

Hank and Susan are both sort of zoned out and staring at the ceiling.

CASEY
A Nibzy’s gotta do what a Nibzy’s gotta do! I love my Nibby Nibbles more than I love you! I love my Nibzy-poo because his eyes are big and blue! Love my—

SUSAN
(erupting)
Oh my god, shut UP!!!!!

CASEY
(looking offended)
All right, calm down!

SUSAN
Can we PLEASE have SOME kind of plan here? One that doesn’t include any words rhyming with “poo”?

CASEY
Can’t we have a break first? We’ve been sitting here all day!

SUSAN
(glaring)
I KNOW.

CASEY
So… yes?

SUSAN
This is ridiculous. Go do whatever you want, tomorrow we’re just going to follow Hank and hope for the best, I can’t take much more of this.
CASEY
Great, thanks!
(Bouncing Nibzy out of the room)
Love my Nibby-Nibbles, Nibbie-pie, Nibbie-poo…

Close up of the clock on the wall. Its hands circle all the way around until it’s 9:00 in the morning. We pull back out into the kitchen and see Casey , Hank, and Nibzy at the table. Casey’s got a cup of coffee and a big backpack. Hank has a rucksack made out of a sock. Nibzy (no longer gagged) is asleep. Susan enters with a backpack and a big paper bag.

SUSAN
Okay, I’ve made us some sandwiches.

CASEY
Mustard and onions with whipped cream?

SUSAN
(holds out sandwiches)
Two of ‘em.

CASEY
(taking them)
Thanks!

SUSAN
…ya freak. And I’ve made some peanut butter, some tuna salad, and one with olives and cream cheese, cause… that was what was in the kitchen. So. Are we ready to go?

CASEY
All set!

HANK
(chatters)

SUSAN
Excellent. Hank, lead the way!

Hank grabs his bag and hops down from the table. Casey picks up Nibzy, and they follow him out the door.

~~~~

That's it for now. I hope I didn't accidentally steal "Nibzy" from somewhere, but I trust you to tell me if I did.

ScriptFrenzy script, part three!

2008-04-08T05:33:40Z

I wrote a shit-ton this time around. But you'll read it anyway, cause you love me!

EXT.- BALLOON PILE

BALLOON
(turning to camera)
It’s human instinct to seek help when faced with the unfamiliar, which is entirely unlike the balloon instinct to deflate slowly over a course of several weeks.

(the balloon pauses to think)

I suppose there’s something to be said for the human way, really.

EXT.- A MASSIVE PALACE MADE OF ODDS AND ENDS, WITH A RECURRING THEME OF SOCKS.

We slowly pan down from the palace to see Susan, Casey, and Hank standing in front of the door, which is much too small for either of the humans to get through. Susan is holding the baby, who is now gagged with Casey’s pink scarf.

HANK
(chatters)

CASEY
Yeah, do it.

Hank hops off Casey’s shoulder and runs into the palace.

CASEY
He’s going to get King Wiblet.

SUSAN
(holding up the baby)
Are you sure this isn’t hurting it?

CASEY
Look, he isn’t crying anymore, is he?

SUSAN
Actually, I think he’s sleeping.

CASEY
See? There you go! How bad could it be?

SUSAN
Yeah, but I just—

Susan is interrupted by the sound of an elevator platform. Very slowly, a green creature in a crown made of baby socks (King Wiblet) rises up onto the roof, sitting in a throne made from socks and silverware. Hank is standing beside him.

KING WIBLET
(chatters, in a voice deeper than Hank’s)

SUSAN & CASEY
(bowing)
Majesty.

KING WIBLET
(chatters)

CASEY
Could you—I’m sorry, sir, but Susan can’t understand you unless you speak English, so…

KING WIBLET
Ah. I remember. For you, Susan, my child, I will speak the lowly language of humans.

SUSAN
Thank you, Majesty.

KING WIBLET
My loyal servant Hank tells me that my human children have a quandary to present?

SUSAN
(holding up the baby)
It’s this creature, sir. It fell through with the rest of the things for sorting this morning, and it—

KING WIBLET
Take that ridiculous decoration off its face, my dear, I can’t see the thing at all.

SUSAN
Yes, sir.

Susan starts to remove the scarf from the baby’s face, but Casey grabs her wrist.

CASEY
(whispering)
Are you sure it’s safe?

SUSAN
(whispering)
I told you, it’s asleep!

CASEY
What if it starts crying again?

SUSAN
Casey! King Wiblet told me to untie the thing, are you gonna argue with him?

CASEY
Okay, okay…

Susan unties the baby and holds it up for King Wiblet to see.

KING WIBLET
Ahhhhh, yes. I see it now. Yes, indeed, my children, it was only a matter of time before such a thing came through to our world.

SUSAN
What… what is it, sir?

KING WIBLET
It’s a human, Susan. Just like you.

CASEY
What?!?!! It can’t possibly be human! Look how tiny it is! It can’t even talk! It can’t even stand up!!!

SUSAN
Due respect, your Majesty, but Casey’s right. This… thing, it’s nothing like us!

KING WIBLET
It’s a very young human, my dear, but human it is indeed.

SUSAN
Sir, I… I’m sorry, but I think I would remember if I’d ever been that small.

KING WIBLET
Tell me, Susan, how old are you?

SUSAN
I’m eighteen, Majesty.

KING WIBLET
And last year? How old were you last year?

SUSAN
(stares at him as though he was crazy)
….Eighteen?

KING WIBLET
And the year before that?

SUSAN
Eighteen. Sir, I’m eighteen years old, that’s… that’s how old I am, it’s not going to change!

KING WIBLET
Ah, but it was not always so.

SUSAN
What do you mean, Majesty?

KING WIBLET
My children, have I ever told you the story of how this world we live in came to be?

SUSAN & CASEY
No.

KING WIBLET
Well then. It’s about time you knew. Make yourselves comfortable.

King Wiblet continues to speak in voiceover, over a cartoon illustrating everything he’s saying.

KING WIBLET (V.O.)
Once upon a time, the gnome people were thieves. Scavengers.

We see many tiny green gnomes, all in caveman gear, grunting and fighting over a sock on top of a dryer. They’re whacking each other over the head with clubs and punching each other in the face and otherwise being generally uncivilized.

KING WIBLET (V.O.)
Oh, it was chaos. There was no king, and there was no rule of law. My poor people were savages!

One cartoon gnome kills another one, and all the others cheer. He then grabs the sock, and the rest of the gnomes pounce on him.

KING WIBLET (V.O.)
The gnomes had nothing of their own, and the envied the possessions of the human race with all their being, particularly the socks.

A gnome lair. One gnome holds up a sock, while the others ooh and aaah.

KING WIBLET (V.O.)
Their envy corrupted their tiny hearts, and by night the gnomes would sneak into the human houses, and steal every last sock from human drawers and dryers, stealing even from each other!

Many gnomes stealing socks, and then fighting over them.

KING WIBLET (V.O.)
My people had no homes, and so they dwelled under human floorboards and in the back parts of human silverware drawers, each gnome carefully guarding his hoarded socks.

A gnome huddles in a stack of spoons, petting a sock.. A pair of tiny eyes blink at him out of he darkness and he stares around suspiciously.

KING WIBLET (V.O.)
There was no trust. There was no love. There was only greed, and envy, and violence.

The eyes move forward, and another gnome emerges from the shadows, and stabs the first gnome to death with a fork, and steals his sock.

KING WIBLET (V.O.)
My children, you cannot imagine the bloodshed! It was into this world that I was born.

A gnome mother is holding a tiny gnome baby. She sees a sock on the floor, and puts the baby down to go get the sock.

KING WIBLET (V.O.)
My own mother was a victim of the senseless gnome-on-gnome violence of those days.

The mother gnome is beaten with a club, while the baby huddles in a corner, hiding.

SUSAN (V.O.)
I’m so sorry, sir.

KING WIBLET (V.O.)
Thank you, my child. Now, from a very young age, I knew that something had to change. My people were eating themselves alive!

A gnome chews on his own leg.

KING WIBLET (V.O.)
Not literally, of course.

The leg-chewing gnome looks guiltily at the camera, and then scampers off.

KING WIBLET (V.O.)
When I got a bit older, I started a movement. I tried to spread the word of peace and order, trust and mutual respect.

Young King Wiblet, wearing a beret, stands on a wooden stage, giving a fiery speech to a nearly-empty room.

KING WIBLET (V.O.)
Nobody listened.

A dejected Young Wiblet wanders down an alley, kicking a tiny ball of string, raveling it up as he goes.

KING WIBLET (V.O.)
I was an outcast. Alone. Miserable. It was then that I realized the source of my people’s problems!

Young King Wiblet kicks his bit of string up to its source, which is of course a sock. He stares at it in awe, then drops to his knees to pet it.

KING WIBLET (V.O.)
Rather than let myself be tempted, as my fellow gnomes had been, I began to formulate a plan. I began organizing my movement once again, from the ground up.

Young King Wiblet passes out flyers and talks to teenagery-looking gnomes in a montage.

KING WIBLET (V.O.)
It was a grassroots organization the like of which my people had never seen! I had a massive following!

CASEY (V.O.)
How did you do it?

Young King Wiblet leads his followers to a treasure trove of socks. They run wild, as though they were in Willy Wonka’s factory.

KING WIBLET (V.O.)
I learned to communicate with the people, Casey. I earned their trust. And once I had it, they began recruiting more members, and more!

More flyers being passed out. Gnomes entering a large building are each given a tiny gnome-sized pair of socks at the door.

KING WIBLET (V.O.)
My speeches were packed. People were beginning to hear my message! But sadly, I could not reach the entirety of my people, and the covetous violence continued unabated.

More gnomes fighting over socks.

KING WIBLET (V.O.)
I came to realize that the only way I could save my people from sealing their own fate in greed was to separate them forever from the world of the humans.

SUSAN (V.O.)
I see…

CASEY (V.O.)
But how??

Young King Wiblet paces furiously back and forth in a tiny room, rolling his beret in his hands worriedly.

KING WIBLET (V.O.)
I thought long and hard about that. There is an ancient Gnomic prophecy, you see, stating that if all of gnomekind unite under one leader, the doorway to the Promised Land would open. The only problem was, there was no way for me to bring all of my people together peacefully at one time! Then it struck me.

CASEY (V.O.)
What?

We see a teeming crowd of gnomes standing under a giant neon sign that says “FREE SOCKS.”

KING WIBLET (V.O.)
Mutual trust and respect, my boy. Mutual trust and respect. The power of love is unstoppable once you get it going.

Young Wiblet walks on to the stage, and everyone in the crowd joins hands.

KING WIBLET (V.O.)
With all my people united there under one roof, I could feel the force of their love pouring into me!

A sparkly green mist starts to formulate over all the gnomes, and slowly flow into Young Wiblet, who begins to levitate.

KING WIBLET (V.O.)
Oh, my children, it was fantastic! I was lifted by the power of gnomekind’s peaceful union! Lifted clear up into the air! And when I opened my eyes, I looked down, and my people were flying with me, and we were flying together, flying through the air!

The entire gnome assembly tumble through a vortex.

KING WIBLET (V.O.)
We were dizzy with it! Swirling through the cosmos, on our way to the Promised Land! Oh, it was amazing! But then, just at the very last second! My children, I shudder to even think…

SUSAN (V.O.)
Yes?

CASEY (V.O.)
What?? Shudder to think what?!?

KING WIBLET (V.O.)
At the very last moment, one lone gnome released the hand of his neighbour.

Close-up of a gnome hand releasing another one. The gnome falls backwards through the vortex, screaming.

KING WIBLET (V.O.)
No one knows what terrible fate befell that gnome. I can’t bear the thought.

SUSAN (V.O.)
That’s terrible!

KING WIBLET (V.O.)
Never fear, my children. For we reached the Promised Land! And when we got there, we found that the nature of gnomekind had been transformed by our experience! We no longer wanted to fight!

Gnomes hugging and skipping through fields of dasies.

KING WIBLET (V.O.)
My vision had finally come to pass! Every gnome loved every other gnome, and we lived together in peace! Oh, it was beautiful. But of course, there was the nagging concern of the one gnome who had let go. Did he remain in the human world? Could we go back to get him?

SUSAN (V.O.)
Could you?

KING WIBLET (V.O.)
No, Susan, we couldn’t. We were all so new to the Promised Land, we had no idea how to cross back over. Still, we worried, and waited. Soon we started noticing strange things.

Two gnomes skip through a field, and stop at the sight of a giant tape dispenser. They stare at it, and circle it.

KING WIBLET (V.O.)
All manner of things from the human world began turning up, all over the Promised Land! I can tell you, my children, I was afraid. I thought they were omens, you see, omens saying that my people would return to their old ways.

CASEY (V.O.)
Did they?

KING WIBLET (V.O.)
Well, I didn’t know, did I? Until, one day, my people were faced with the ultimate test.

Two gnomes are hugging. The break apart, and look down, to see a sock on the ground between them. The stare at each other in terror.

KING WIBLET (V.O.)
My people were terrified. They came for me in swarms, fearing that the temptation would send them careening back into their habits of theft and murder!

A crowd flocks around Young King Wiblet. He holds up a hand for silence.

CASEY (V.O.)
What did you tell them?

YOUNG KING WIBLET
Gnomes! You come to me worried that the socks in our midst may cause greed, envy, and bloodshed to return to our hearts and minds. But gnomes! If you are worried, are you not already casting aside such wicked ways?

GNOME CROWD
(cheers)

YOUNG KING WIBLET
Today, we celebrate a victory! A victory over the troubles that plagued us in the human world!

GNOME CROWD
(cheers)

KING WIBLET (V.O.)
Their fears assuaged, my people decided to begin caring for the items that fell through from the human world into our new Promised Land.

Gnomes start sorting things into piles.

KING WIBLET (V.O.)
We tried sorting things alphabetically, but some items defied naming.

A gnome stares at a weird wind-up device, which starts whirring. He runs.

KING WIBLET (V.O.)
We tried sorting them according to the Dewey Decimal system, but nobody can understand that kind of claptrap.

A bunch of gnomes stare at a list of Dewey Decimal numbers, scratching their heads.

KING WIBLET (V.O.)
It was a disaster. And so, in the end, we decided to sort the items by colour, because it is prettiest that way.

We see King Wiblet surveying his now-colour-coordinated domain from atop a hill, and then we switch back to the image of King Wiblet on his throne, talking to Casey and Susan.

KING WIBLET
And my gnomes built me a lovely palace, and all of gnomekind agreed never to return to the human world, or the terrible violence under which we once lived.

CASEY
But that isn’t true at all, Hank still goes through to the human world to take socks, I’ve seen him with them!

KING WIBLET
(to Hank)
Is this true?

HANK
(chatters, ashamed)

KING WIBLET
You know what the punishment is for breaking the Gnomic Code, Hank.

HANK
(nods miserably)

KING WIBLET
I am very disappointed in you. Go downstairs into the palace. You’ll be dealt with.

Hank shoots Casey a dirty look, then heads back down into the palace.

CASEY
(mouthing)
Sorry!

SUSAN
Your Majesty, that was a very lovely story, but I’m afraid I don’t see what it has to do with us.

KING WIBLET
Well, my dear, how do you think you got here?

SUSAN
You’re saying we’re just….. someone in the human world’s lost things? Someone just lost us, like a… like a pen, or a pair of sunglasses?

KING WIBLET
These things happen.

CASEY
Wait, wait. So… before we came here, we lived in the human world??

KING WIBLET
Well, you certainly aren’t gnomes, are you?

SUSAN
But… but I don’t remember living in the human world!

CASEY
Neither do I!

SUSAN
We’ve always lived right here! Here in the Lost World, with you!

KING WIBLET
No, Susan. That is what I am telling you. You lived in the human world, but you were lost to them. You fell through, just like anything else.

CASEY
But why don’t we remember it?!

KING WIBLET
We thought it best.

SUSAN
You ERASED our MEMORIES?!?!

KING WIBLET
Don’t be hotheaded, my dear! Aren’t you happy!

SUSAN
I thought I was!!! Now I'm not sure of anything!

CASEY
(gesturing to the baby)
Did we really start off all… tiny and helpless like that?

KING WIBLET
You did.

CASEY
So… is that thing going to grow up and be a person, then?

KING WIBLET
No. There is no time here in the Lost World, which is why your age never changes.

CASEY
(scandalized)
Ages can change??

KING WIBLET
In the human world, they do. All the time.

SUSAN
Hold on, I’m still on you ERASED MY MEMORY?!?!?!

KING WIBLET
Susan, my child... The kinds of humans that fall far enough through the cracks of society in their world to come here… are you sure you want to remember?

SUSAN
I-… But—

CASEY
So… that thing-

KING WIBLET
Baby.

CASEY
That baby, it was supposed to grow up?

KING WIBLET
Yes.

CASEY
But… but now it won’t? Because it’s here?

KING WIBLET
Yes.

CASEY
You mean it’s just… going to stay that way?

KING WIBLET
Well… yes.

CASEY
That’s terrible!

SUSAN
Casey, do you just not even care that he—

CASEY
I’m sure it was for the best, Susan, think about the baby! We can’t let it just stay like this forever, all drooly and useless! Not when it was meant to grow up and walk and talk and… dance, and things!

SUSAN
Fine. Fine. What, exactly, do you propose we do about it? Hmm? Bring it back? Through the doorway everyone here is forbidden to go through? Brilliant idea, Casey. Just brilliant.

CASEY
All right, Susan, so you come up with something!

SUSAN
You know, maybe I would be able to, if my mind wasn’t all messed up on account of ALL MY MEMORIES BEING ERASED!

KING WIBLET
I’ve had quite enough of your ungrateful behaviour, Susan!

SUSAN
Have you?? Well, that’s—that’s just--- That’s just fabulous, that’s—aaagh!!

CASEY
Your Majesty, we HAVE to bring it back! We can’t just keep it here, stopping it from becoming a person, it isn’t fair!

KING WIBLET
You insolent sister is right, Casey. My people cannot return the baby to the human world.

CASEY
But—

KING WIBLET
No, Casey. I am sorry. You must care for the baby as it is.

CASEY
What, forever?

SUSAN
This is ridiculous. We can’t do this! We can’t just—Look, I'll-- I’ll take it.

CASEY
What???

SUSAN
I’ll take it. I’ll take it back. Maybe I can figure out what my past was while I’m there, since your Majesty thinks it’s so much better for me that I not know while I’m here.

CASEY
You can’t just leave! You’re—I need you!

SUSAN
No you don’t. King Wiblet can probably make you forget me anyway. I bet when you wake up tomorrow, you won’t even remember you had a sister!

CASEY
No!!!

KING WIBLET
Children, children! Calm down. We cannot have this kind of stress upsetting the delicate peaceful balance of the Promised Land!

SUSAN
No, of course not, that would never do.

KING WIBLET
Look... I will allow you to return the baby to the human world, on one condition.

SUSAN
Yes?

KING WIBLET
That, once you have completed this task, you return to the Lost World, and live happily once again in the land of the gnomes. Is it agreed?

SUSAN
I'm-- Fine. Fine. Sure.

CASEY
What? Your Majesty, you can’t really just let her leave me like that, can you?

KING WIBLET
It is the only way.

CASEY
Susan! Don’t go, you can’t go!

SUSAN
So come with me.

CASEY
What??

SUSAN
Come with me!

CASEY
But—our house! Our… our things! Our...all my boots are here! My monopoly pieces!

SUSAN
They’ll all be here when we get back.

CASEY
But…

SUSAN
(softer)
Please, Case?

CASEY
I-… B...but...
(bites his lip, thinking)
Yeah. Yeah, okay.

SUSAN
(squeezing his hand)
Thanks.
(turning to King Wiblet)
So how do we get there?

KING WIBLET
I cannot help you there. It is forbidden.

CASEY
But what if… Your Majesty, what about Hank?

KING WIBLET
Hank is a traitor, Casey.

CASEY
I know, but… Well, he knows the way. And… it’s not like he could get into any more trouble, right? And maybe… maybe if he does this, you could, possibly, forgive him?

KING WIBLET
(thinks for awhile, then shouts down the stairs)
BRING UP THE TRAITOR HANK!

Two ominously-dressed gnome guards drag Hank back up to the roof. He’s in shackles.

KING WIBLET
Hank, you are faced with high treason against all of gnomedom.

HANK
(chatters sadly)

KING WIBLET
I am offering you a chance to redeem yourself.

HANK
(perks up)

KING WIBLET
I am charging you with the mission of guiding Casey and Susan into the land of humans, to return the human baby. Do you understand?

HANK
(chatters, nodding)

KING WIBLET
Good. The condition of this charge is that you ensure, no matter what the circumstance, both of my human children are returned to me safely. Do you accept this mission?

HANK
(chatters excitedly, nodding and hopping up and down)

KING WIBLET
Excellent. Release the prisoner!

The guards unshackle Hank. He kicks the chains off, does a little dance, and sticks his tongue out at them. They retreat, and he takes a flying leap off the roof of the palace and onto Casey’s shoulder. Casey pets him comfortingly.

KING WIBLET
I wish you the best of luck.

The elevator-platform sounds again, and King Wiblet’s throne is slowly lowered back into the palace again.

A bit more for ScriptFrenzy.

2008-04-05T18:23:12Z

INT. LIVING ROOM

Casey comes down the stairs and opens the door. The green guy hops onto his shoulder and starts chattering to him.

CASEY
Yeah, I know, but she did take my turn twice last week.

GREEN GUY
(chattering)

CASEY
I am not going soft on her, I’m trying to be a considerate brother for once in my-

GREEN GUY
(chattering)

CASEY
Of course you can have the socks, when have I not given you the socks?

GREEN GUY
(chattering)

CASEY
She doesn’t?

GREEN GUY
(chattering)

CASEY
Look, going into other people’s dryers is just not nice, okay? We told you to cut that out, I’ll give you the socks if you’ll just ask, it’s not—

GREEN GUY
(chattering)

CASEY
Whatever, let's just get this over with. How big is the pile?

GREEN GUY
(chattering)

CASEY
...What do you mean, “strange”?

GREEN GUY
(chattering)

CASEY
What? Pink isn’t strange, c’mon, we have a whole pile for pink things, just over there!

GREEN GUY
(chattering)

CASEY
Pink "like me"?? I’m not pink!

GREEN GUY
(chattering)

CASEY
Am not!

GREEN GUY
(chattering)

CASEY
Am NOT!

GREEN GUY
(chattering)

CASEY
Am- this is hopeless. Just show me.

The green guy climbs down Casey’s body and runs off. Casey, muttering, runs after him.

EXT. BACKYARD- DAY
There is a heap of assorted junk in the middle of a sort of junky and unmowed-looking backyard.

The Green Guy scrambles up the heap, and starts jumping up and down, pointing excitedly at the other side.

CASEY
Look, I don’t know what you were saying, I don’t see anything strange and pink. Ooh, except this, this is nice.
(Casey picks up a pink scarf and puts it on.)
I think I’m gonna keep this one, what do you think?

GREEN GUY
(chatters and points)

CASEY
Okay, okay, I’m going.

Casey walks around to the back of the heap. The green guy hops onto his shoulder as he goes.

Closeup on his shocked face.

CASEY
What IS it?!?!

GREEN GUY
(chattering)

CASEY
Is it—is it ALIVE?

GREEN GUY
(starts jumping up and down, chattering more)

CASEY
I don’t know! How should I know?? I don’t-- SUSAN!! SUSANNNNN!!!

INT. KITCHEN

Low angle—Casey, Susan, and the green guy still on Casey’s shoulder are all peering down at the camera.

CASEY
Have you ever seen anything like it?

SUSAN
No, never!

CASEY
It’s—it’s like it’s alive, but it can’t even… DO anything.

SUSAN
It’s grotesque!

GREEN GUY
(chatters)

CASEY
I dunno, I think it’s kind of cute.

The camera angle changes, and we can now see that they’re talking about a small baby, who waves its arms and coos at them. Casey reaches out a finger, and the baby curls its hand around it.

CASEY
I think it likes me!

SUSAN
Look, we can’t keep it.

CASEY
Awww, why not?

SUSAN
Case-

GREEN GUY
(chatters)

CASEY
See! Hank agrees with me!

SUSAN
...How d’you know that one’s called Hank?

CASEY
Look, just because you never think to ask their names-

SUSAN
I bet you can’t even talk to them, I bet you just make up things, just to--

CASEY
I’d never do that! Would I do that, Hank?

(Hank shakes his head vigorously.)

CASEY
See?

SUSAN
See, now you’re just ganging up on me cause you think you're special. "Oh, I'm Casey, I'm too good to change my shirt cause I can talk to the gnomes!"

CASEY
Hey! We’re just trying to prove a point! Tell her your name, Hank.

HANK
Hank!

SUSAN
(stares)

Just then, the baby starts chewing on CASEY’s finger.

CASEY
Hey! Ow! Ow! It’s got teeth or something, ow ow STOP THAT!

HANK jumps down onto the table and starts hitting the baby in the face.

CASEY
Get it off me!

SUSAN
(pulling HANK off the baby)
Cut that out, you’re hurting it!

CASEY
What about me?? It’s still hurting me!

SUSAN
(pulling Casey’s finger from the baby’s mouth, then turning to the baby and pointing sternly.)
Don’t do that.

The baby stares for a few seconds, then starts to cry.

SUSAN
No! Wait, don’t cry!

The baby cries louder.

SUSAN
Crap. Crap. Crap.

CASEY
What do we do??

SUSAN
I don’t know! God, that thing is loud!

CASEY
I could… um..
(Casey grabs a waffle and offers it to the baby)
Waffle? Do you like waffles?

The baby keeps crying.

CASEY
Apparently not.

SUSAN
How can something so small make so much noise?

HANK
(chatters)

CASEY
Really?

HANK
(chatters, nodding)

CASEY
Wait, really?

HANK
(more chattering)

CASEY
Are you sure? Because I don’t want to be any trouble or—

HANK
(puts his fingers in his ears, and nods decisively.)

SUSAN
What’d he say?

CASEY
He says we should take it to King Wiblet.

SUSAN
Really?

CASEY
He says he’ll know what to do! Do we really have any better options right now?

SUSAN
Yeah, but... I mean, how are we going to bring this… creature all the way to the palace when it’s screaming like this?

CASEY
I don't know! I can't even think, it's too loud!

CASEY picks at the end of his scarf worriedly. Then he has an idea. He looks down at the scarf, looks at the baby, and then looks at Susan questioningly.

SUSAN
No. No. Absolutely not.

The baby gives a loud wail. Casey raises an eyebrow.

SUSAN
…fine. Fine, just give me that, you’ll probably kill it.

Casey, relieved, starts to take off his scarf.

aaaaaand, SCENE!

~~~~~~~

I ran out of imagination, but I'll get to ~King Wiblet's palace~ once I've recharged. I think I'm gonna go to the flea market and see if that helps.

Leave me comments, comments are my fuel for life!

So I'm doing ScriptFrenzy...

2008-04-03T02:52:14Z

...which is like the NaNoWriMo of script-writing. Insane? Probably. But I've got the first part all ready for you, so here we go!

EXT. CENTRAL PARK—DAY

A little boy is being pulled along by his mother, holding a red balloon. She is talking on her cell phone, he is staring at the balloon.

VOICEOVER
(Warm, narrator-y voice)
It’s a well-known fact amongst the world’s population of helium balloons that roughly 87.3 of them will be released before they’re ever brought to their final destination.

The boy stops walking, still looking at the balloon.

MOTHER
(into cell phone) I know! And I—hold on a minute, Sylvia.
(to the boy)
What are you doing, Warner?

WARNER
The balloon!

MOTHER
It’s a very nice balloon, Warner, come on.

WARNER
No—mommy, the balloon!

MOTHER
Warner, come on!

Warner reluctantly allows himself to be dragged off. The camera follows behind them.

VOICEOVER
It’s a troubling little statistic, you have to admit, especially if you’re a balloon.

The balloon twists around, to reveal a face, which smiles at the camera and then continues talking.

BALLOON
It brings up all kinds of questions, really-- where do we go when we’re released? How do we get there? What happens to us once we do? Will there be candy? If there was candy, would we be able to digest it?

Close up on Warner’s hand around the balloon string. He’s starting to lose his grip.

BALLOON (V.O.)
All life’s mysteries, triggered by the loosening of one child’s finger.

Warner lets the balloon slip free, and it floats up, away from the family.

BALLOON
Here I gooooooooo…

WARNER
(below, reaching up for the balloon)
Mommy! Mommy! No!

BALLOON
(cont’d)
…ooooooooooooo!!!!

As the balloon floats up past the trees and out of the park, over New York City, the clouds form the title: IF FOUND. The balloon crashes through the clouds—

BALLOON
Look out!

--and the clouds scatter. The balloon keeps floating , and another layer of clouds form a door, which opens. The balloon floats through it.

BALLOON
Ooh! Wasn’t expecting that! I wonder where it goes?

--and the balloon is now in a colorful cartoon jungle. The edges of everything are still cloudy. A lot of tiny green creatures with big noses are sliding off of cloud-ferns into a cloud-puddle.

BALLOON
Hey, there, little fellas. Listen, I was wondering-

One of the little green guys jumps on the balloon’s string and starts chattering nonsense angrily in a high-pitched voice.

BALLOON
Hey! Hey! Geroff me!

The creature gives a hard yank, and the balloon takes a sharp left turn, sending the rest of the creatures careening, which they protest in their squeaky voices.

BALLOON
I’m sorry! It wasn’t me, I didn’t mean to- oh, hey, what’s that?

The balloon has come to another cloud-door. The creature gives another yank, and they both go through the door. On the other side of the door is a wide blue sky in which the sun is just rising. The balloon and the creature drift through peacefully, on their way down to what looks like a massive, colour-coordinated junkyard. The creature pulls the balloon over towards a section full of red things—red sweaters, red shoes, red CD cases—and pulls it towards a bundle of red balloons.

BALLOON CLUSTER
(jumbled)
Hey, Frankie! Guys, it’s Frankie! Frankie, how’ve you been??

BALLOON
(settling down into the cluster and turning to the camera)
I suppose there’s a kind of poetry to this.

BALLOONS
Frankie!!! We missed ya, Frankster! (etc)

BALLOON
(to the creature)
Thanks, little guy.

The creature takes a bow, and then scampers off. He runs past fields and fields of stuff in all different colours, climbing over heaps of junk and running through tiny paths in between them, passing loads of more tiny green creatures until he comes to the edge of the junkyard, and runs a few more feet, past a very normal-looking vegetable garden, and up to the front step of a very normal-looking house.

There is a tiny rope ladder dangling from the doorknob, which the creature climbs up, and then reaches across to the doorbell, which he rings.

INT. HOUSE- LIVING ROOM

Everything looks very normal and very cozy. The room is empty. The doorbell rings.

INT. KITCHEN
Also empty. Doorbell rings again.

INT. BEDROOM.
This is clearly the bedroom of a girl in her late teens. Everything is vaguely messy, and there are magazine clippings on the walls. The doorbell rings. In the bed, a girl- SUSAN- groans and pulls the blanket over her head.

The doorbell rings again.

SUSAN
(rolling over)
Fnnnnnfggfffhhh.

The doorbell rings again.

SUSAN
(sitting up)
Alright, alright, I’m coming. Jesus.

The doorbell rings again.

SUSAN
(shouting)
I’m up! I’m up! I’m up, God, can’t you wait for two seconds?

The doorbell rings five times, rapidly.

SUSAN
(muttering to herself as she swings her legs over the edge of the bed)
Thinks he’s so funny…

Susan gets up, kicks some stuff out of her way, and, rubbing her eyes, walks over to the door at the side of her room which connects it to her brother Casey’s.

SUSAN
(pounding on the door)
Casey? CASE! CAAASE! Case, get up, it’s your turn to do the sorting!

CASEY (O.S)
Fi’ more minutes.

SUSAN
(resting her forehead on the door)
Casey, I took your turn twice last week, c’mon. Get up.

CASEY (O.S.)
M’not going.

SUSAN
I’ll make you breakfast?

Assorted getting-up sounds.

SUSAN
There we go.

The door opens. CASEY, about fifteen, steps into the room, wearing a slightly oversized T-shirt, one red boot, and one purple boot.

SUSAN
You wore that shirt yesterday.

CASEY
I know.

SUSAN
Your shoes don’t match.

CASEY
It’s a statement.

SUSAN
You want pancakes or waffles?

CASEY
(stepping past her and out the door into the hallway.)
Surprise me.

SUSAN
(opening her drawer and digging out a pair of jeans)
Excellent. Frozen Eggos it is.

I'll be updating it sporadically, so don't be surprised if there's more of this later tonight... or not! Who knows. I work in ~*~mysterious ways.~*~

GIFTED PILOT, PART FOUR!!!

2008-03-30T20:51:50Z

So I wound up tacking an extra scene on to the end of the last scene. So, instead of fading out, it goes like this:

JOANIE 
What do you think, New Girl?  

JENN 
Me?  

JOANIE 
No, the other new girl, behind you.

  JENN 
I— I really don’t know. I don’t even have my ears pierced.  

CASSIDY 
Seriously??  

JOANIE 
How do you not have your ears pierced?  

JENN 
I was-- my dad, like. Has a thing.  

JOANIE 
What? What kind of thing?  

CORA
 It doesn’t matter, J.  

JOANIE 
She don’t mind, Cora. You don’t mind, do you, New Girl? 

CASSIDY 
Her name’s Jennifer. 

 JENN 
I’m-- no. I don’t mind. 

 JOANIE (to Cora)  
What’d I say?  

CORA 
Joanie.

  JOANIE
 You some kind of Jesus freak or something, New Girl?

  JENN (flustered)
 I-- 

 CASSIDY
 Her name—  

JOANIE 
Jennifer, right. So sorry.  

JENN 
I’m not-- No. No. My dad’s just. Like. Strict. 

 JOANIE
 But do you want your ears pierced? You do want it, don't you? 

 JENN 
I’ve never thought about it.

  JOANIE
 Aw, don’t lie.

  JAMIE 
Joanie, c’mon.

  JENN
 I honestly never thought about it!

  JOANIE 
Well, think about it. My cousin works at the tattoo parlor on Thursdays, he can give you a discount. That’s when I’m going.  

JENN
 I couldn’t, I-- Even if I wanted to. I’m not allowed. 

 JOANIE Oh, she’s not allowed! How absolutely precious. Good pick, Cassidy.

  CASSIDY (So Not Laughing)
 Joanie, shut the fuck up.

  JOANIE, EYES STILL ON JENN, SITS BACK, HANDS IN THE AIR. JENN LOOKS DOWN AT HER FOOD, PROFOUNDLY UNCOMFORTABLE.
 
JUST THEN, A BEATEN-UP CAR PULLS UP OUTSIDE THE FENCE. IN IT ARE HUNTER, YOUR STANDARD TOO-COOL-FOR-SCHOOL HOTTIE, DAN, CORA’S TWIN BROTHER, AND LOGAN, A HISPANIC SLACKER-LOOKING KID WITH LONG HAIR AND A BASEBALL CAP.

HUNTER LEANS HIS HEAD OUT THE WINDOW.

HUNTER
Hey, kids!

EVERYONE GIVES VARIOUS HELLO’S. JENN SHIFTS AWKWARDLY.

CASSIDY
You ditching out already, Hunter? What is it, 11:30?

DAN
He’s going for the Guinness, tomorrow he’s just gonna show up for attendance and then jet.

HUNTER
Shut up, Dan.

DAN
It’s funny cause it’s true.

HUNTER
Whatever. So we’re going to Oslo’s, who’s coming?

JOANIE
God yes, get me the fuck out of here.

CORA
Alright, sure.

HUNTER
Cass?

CASSIDY
You gotta give me more than that, come on, lure me! Bait me! Give me some incentive, the proverbial carrot! Give me—

DAN
He’s got that DVD I was telling you about, that weird horror flick that was translated into Icelandic and then back again?

CASSIDY
Oh, that is fucking fabulous! Jenny, are you down?

JENN
Am I—what? No!

JOANIE
Yeah, really, Cassidy, what if she misses out on that perfect attendance award she’s been holding out for?

CORA
Awww, Joanie.

CASSIDY
Whatever. Hey, JJ, you have Clit next, right?

JENN
Uh… is that…

CASSIDY
(exaggerated pronounciation)
Classic Literature?

JENN
Oh. Right. Yeah, I do, why?

CASSIDY (holds her hand out)
Gimme your digits, I’ll call you for the homework later.

JOANIE (snorting)
What are you, study-buddies?

CASSIDY
It’s Kragen, yo, he can’t fucking stand me. Remember that time he kicked me out of the room?

CORA
Was that when you were wearing the cowboy hat?

CASSIDY
Yeah! He just flipped a shit, kicked me right out of the room!

JAMIE
To be fair, it was right after Mack drew a giant swastika on top of it.

CASSIDY
Yeah but I didn’t know that, did I? It wasn’t my fault Mack has a retarded sense of humour, I had no idea what all the screaming was about, I was all confused wondering what was so offensive about a purple cowboy hat, and then all of a sudden I was in the hallway by myself! It was devastating, I was devastated!

HUNTER (honking and yelling)
Are you coming, or what?

CASSIDY
What, did you make a fucking appointment? Keep your shirt on!

LOGAN
He’s just worried once you start talking we’re not gonna leave until school gets out.

CASSIDY
I take umbrage at that!

CORA (laughing)
You what?

CASSIDY
(grand hand gestures)
Umbrage, I say! (to Jenn) C’mon, gimme your number, quick before these losers take off without me, c’mon!

JENN
It’s… I don’t have a cellphone.

CASSIDY
Whatever, just give me a number I could call. It could be a fake number, even, something you saw in a bathroom stall, something to get my hopes up only to dash them to bits later when I discover that I've called a pizza place, I don’t even care, come on come on come on!

JENN FISHES FOR A PEN, AND GRABS CASSIDY’S HAND.

CASSIDY
Right there. Awesome.

HUNTER (honking)
Cassidy!

JOANIE
She needs to have a fucking farewell scene before she goes anywhere, give us like another two hours and we should be good.

CASSIDY
You’re damn right I do.

JENN FINISHES WRITING.

JENN
Okay.

CASSIDY
(chucking JENN under the chin)
Here’s looking at you, kid.

JOANIE
Are we good? Can we fucking go already?

CASSIDY
What d'you mean? I was waiting on you!

JOANIE
(starting to walk towards the fence)
Oh, go make a balloon animal or something.

CASSIDY
(following)
Hey, I nearly had the giraffe today, did I tell you?!

CORA
You coming, Jamie?

JAMIE
Nah, I’m sticking. I’ll see you later.

CORA
Alright, later. Nice to meet you, Jenn!

CORA RUNS TO CATCH UP WITH THE OTHERS WITHOUT WAITING FOR A RESPONSE. THEY ALL TOSS THEIR BAGS THROUGH THE HOLE IN THE FENCE AND START TO SCALE IT, WITH THE BOYS IN THE CAR CATCALLING.

JAMIE STARTS CLEARING UP THE GARBAGE, AND JENN STARES AT THE SCENE BY THE FENCE.

JENN V.O.
Have you ever had one of those days where you, like, don’t recognize your life as something that belongs to you?

THE GIRLS PILE INTO THE BACKSEAT, AND LOGAN SMACKS CASSIDY’S ASS AS SHE CRAWLS OVER HIM ON THE WAY IN, EVERYONE LAUGHING.

JENN V.O
I have a feeling I’m going to be having lots of days like that, now.

FADE OUT.

~~~~

BACK, ON THE INSIDE OF A CLUTTERED BUT RATHER BLAND LIVING ROOM. CLANCY, JENN’S FOUR-YEAR-OLD BROTHER, IS WATCHING TV ON THE SOFA. THE FRONT DOOR OPENS, AND JENN COMES IN, TOES OFF HER SHOES, AND HANGS HER JACKET ON A HOOK BY THE DOOR.

CLANCY
(jumping up and running over to Jenn, waving a fingerpainting)
Jenn! Jenn Jenn Jenn Jenn Jenn!

JENN
(scooping him up)
Heyyy, Clance!

CLANCY
Look what I made!

JENN
(looking at the painting)
Aw, look at you, you’re like a young Jackson Polluck!

CLANCY
I didn’t know I was supposed name it, but then Miss Alisha told me I had to name it and I didn’t know what to name it and so then? So then? So it was blue? So then? So you know what I named it?

JENN
What?

CLANCY
Blue!

JENN
That… wow. Yeah, well done.

THERE’S A LOUD CRASH OFFSCREEN

JENN
Mom??

JENN’S MOM (DEBBIE)’S VOICE
I’m in the broom closet!

JENN
(to Clancy)
Course she is.

CLANCY
I have a loose tooth, look!
(wiggles his tooth)

JENN
I know, Clance, you showed me this morning.

CLANCY
But it got looser!

DEBBIE’S VOICE
Jenn, can you come help me for a minute?

JENN
Yeah, coming!

JENN PUTS CLANCY BACK DOWN.

JENN
Why don’t you go watch your cartoon and you can tell me about your loose tooth later, okay?

CLANCY
(walking back towards the sofa)
Okay but only except? Except? Except I’m not watching cartoons.

JENN
(following him and not listening)
Oh yeah?

CLANCY
No because it’s the Magic School Bus? Only I don’t like the Magic School Bus because the Magic School Bus is weird? And so then? So then? So I changed the channel? So now I’m watching the commercials.

JENN
(dropping her bag)
Uh-huh. I’ll be back in a minute, Clance.

JENN WALKS THROUGH THE LIVING ROOM AND INTO THE BROOM CLOSET, WHERE SHE STANDS IN THE DOOR LOOKING VAGUELY DISGUSTED.

JENN
What’s that smell?

DEBBIE, A SMALL WOMAN WITH FRIZZY BLONDE HAIR, IS SITTING ON THE FLOOR WITH A BIG BOWL OF SOMETHING GROSS AND HOMEMADE-LOOKING, WHICH SHE DIPS A RAG INTO AND USES IT TO SCRUB VARIOUS BROOM-CLOSET TYPE ITEMS AS SHE TALKS.

DEBBIE
That’s the salve. You know, you never realize how many germs and gunk and stuff get left over from cleaning until you take a blacklight to your rug!

JENN
…We have a blacklight?

DEBBIE
Regular cleaning fluids are a complete sham, I bet you didn’t know. It’s truly terrifying the kind of scum that gets left behind.

JENN
Yeah.

DEBBIE
So tell me about school! How was being in the Gifted program?

JENN
It was. Uh. It was fine.

DEBBIE
So?? Did you do any Craft??

JENN
Mom, I’m not… It’s not, like.

DEBBIE
It’s not like what?

JENN
It's not, I’m not Gifted!

DEBBIE
Oh, but you ARE, honey, just like Dr. Schuloff told us!

JENN
Yeah. About that, though-

DEBBIE
You’ll be floating things all around the house in no time! You could clean the place in two seconds flat, not that Craft cleaners are any better than generic cleaners. It’s a sham, it really is, the whole cleaning-product industry!

JENN
Mom, listen, can I talk to you about this whole Gifted thing?

DEBBIE
It’s fantastic, isn’t it? I always wished I was Gifted, did you know?

JENN
…yeah. I mean, no.

DEBBIE
You’ll be great at it in time, honey, don’t you worry. Now can you give me a hand with this?

JENN STARES AT THE BOWL.

JENN V.O.
I think there’s some law that says after you turn thirteen, talking to your parents has to become this, like, impossible feat.

JENN
What… what are you even doing?

DEBBIE
Well, you know how you use deep cleansers on your face? I just thought, your house is just as important as your face is, and we clean it with these awful dirty things! So I made a deep cleanser for the mops and brooms.

JENN
You made… yeah. Okay.

JENN V.O.
It’s like… I know we’re technically speaking the same language? But the idea of actually talking to her about anything just seems so, like, laughable.

JENN
(sitting and picking up a rag)
Okay. What do I do?

~*~End Scene~*~

More to follow! Soon, hopefully.

~~MUSICAL INTERLUDE~~

2008-03-10T05:39:40Z

I've made playlists for everyone!

... not really. Jenn doesn't get one. But everyone else does!

So this is like... if you were to go to each of these characters' houses, and they were to put their iPods on, THIS IS WHAT YOU WOULD HEAR!

Savannah Nemhauser

Joanie Gould

Jamie Cullen (...esq)

Cora Bradley

Cassidy Van Patten!

ENJOYYYYYYYY!

Gifted pilot, Part Three!

2008-02-19T21:34:22Z

Hey! Okay, so in case you forgot where we left off, I'm going to include a blurb from the last segment. On to the fun stuff!

JENN V.O.
In my entire life, I have never not turned in an assignment.

THE DOOR TO A STALL OPENS. JENN FLINCHES. A ROLL OF TOILET PAPER FLOATS OUT OF THE STALL AND UNDER THE DOOR OF THE ONE NEXT TO IT.

JENN V.O.
…But that’s probably, like, not even on the top-ten list of ways my life is different today than it was yesterday.

THE TOILET FLUSHES, AND A GIRL COMES OUT. JENN IS STARING.

GIRL
…What?

JENN LOOKS AWAY, UNCOMFORTABLY.

JENN V.O.
It’s probably, like, not even in the top hundred. It’s probably number 732, or something.

JENN TURNS AND STARTS TO LEAVE THE BATHROOM.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Title: Gifted

Episode: Pilot, Act 1 pt 2

Author: Squeegee!

Notes: This should take us to our first commercial break! Excitement abounds.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

HALLWAY- CASSIDY IS RUSHING DOWN THE HALL, TRYING TO MAKE A BALLOON ANIMAL AND NOT LOOKING WHERE SHE’S GOING. SHE CRASHES INTO JENN, WHO IS EXITING THE BATHROOM.

JENN
Sorry!

CASSIDY
Noooooooo, I was so close!

JENN
I’m sorry, I-- what?

CASSIDY
(brandishes balloon animal)
To the giraffe! I literally almost had it, and now I’m all mixed up and it’s absolutely tragic! See, because Vannah used to work at Barnes & Noble and she got me this book and I was so determined and... Okay. Okay I'm over it, where are you headed?

CASSIDY STARTS WALKIING DOWN THE HALLWAY, AND JENN IS FORCED TO WALK WITH HER.

JENN
I.. uh, lunch.

CASSIDY
Seriously? JJ! We’re lunch-buddies!!

JENN
Oh! Um. Good?

CASSIDY
I mean, unless you have friends from Ace you want to sit with, obviously, I didn’t mean to, like, y'know, only Vannah and I don’t have lunch together for the first time in, like, years, and I was in absolute despair, but if you want to sit with your old posse, that’s-

JENN
Yeah, no. I’m. I don’t exactly have a posse.

CASSIDY
Really? Well, that is a tragedy, Miss Jordan! I’ll just have to be your posse, then. I’ll be your groupie!

JENN
Thanks?

CASSIDY
I’m going to start leaving you secret love notes, and I’ll, like, start a website, and ooh! And I’ll steal your old notebooks and sell them on e-bay!

JENN
(laughing uncomfortably)
I’m... sure nobody would actually buy—

CASSIDY
Oh, no way! It’ll catch on like wildfire, it’ll be just like Beatlemania!

JENN
...I think I’d have to get a haircut for that one.

CASSIDY
(pauses, looks at Jenn)
I like you!

THEY BOTH STOP WALKING BRIEFLY, AND SMILE. CASSIDY CONTINUES, AND JENN STARES AFTER HER FOR A MOMENT, BEAMING. THEN SHE RUNS TO CATCH BACK UP.

JENN
Listen, I'm, uh, sorry about your balloon animal.

CASSIDY
What? Oh! It completely doesn't matter, don't even think about it.

JENN STARTS TO TURN IN TO THE CAFETERIA. CASSIDY STARES AT HER.

CASSIDY
Where you going?

JENN
…get lunch?

CASSIDY
In there?? Don’t waste your money! C’mon, we’ll order Chinese.

JENN
We-- what??

COURTYARD, EXT- CASSIDY IS PAYING FOR A LARGE BAG OF CHINESE FOOD THROUGH A GAP IN A WIRE FENCE. JENN IS STANDING NEXT TO HER.

CASSIDY
See, this loser dropped out of school last year, so now we can order Szechwan to anywhere we want.
(to delivery boy.)
Thanks, Jan.

JAN
You tip like a Jew.

CASSIDY
What ever, I keep you in business.

JAN
Yeah, yeah.

CASSIDY
Speaking of business, is it cool if I drop by tonight?

JAN
What happened, Grady dried up?

CASSIDY
Grady tried to hit on Vannah, we’re boycotting.

JAN
How noble.

CASSIDY
Fifty bucks, Jan, c’mon.

JAN
Well...

CASSIDY
You’re wonderful, you’re fabulous, you’re a saint, now get outta here.

JAN
(leaving)
See you tonight.

CASSIDY TURNS BACK TO JENN, WHO IS STARING.

CASSIDY
What?

JENN
Was that… Nothing.

CASSIDY
Don’t look at me like that, Mindy Sue, you’ll make me wanna confess my sins! C’mon.

THEY HEAD TO A CONCRETE CURB WHERE JAMIE IS SITTING WITH CORA, AN ARTY-LOOKING BLONDE, AND JOANIE, WHO HAS DREADLOCKS, GLASSES, SEVERAL TATTOOS, AND A LIP RING.

JOANIE
What’d he say?

CASSIDY
He said it’s fine.

CORA
See? I told you he wouldn’t be mad, all he cares about is cash.

JOANIE
All I’m saying is I know I’d be pissed, if it was me y'all ditched for Grady out of the blue.

JAMIE
Yeah, but you’re always pissed, Joanie, it doesn’t count.

JOANIE WAVES HER HAND AND A GUST OF WIND HITS JAMIE IN THE FACE.

JOANIE
Shut up.

JAMIE MAKES A FACE AT HER.

CASSIDY
(holding up a container)
Okay, General Tzo’s!

CORA
Me!
(taking it)
Ahhhh, I love Chinese food.

CASSIDY
I know, right? Okay, sesame shrimp, that’s mine. Scallion pancakes?

JENN
Thanks.

CASSIDY
You are very welcome, Madame, here’s your soy sauce.

JENN
Thanks.

CASSIDY
You’re welcome again! Okay, something faggy and vegetarian, that’s for you, Sir Jamison Cullensworth.

JAMIE
Thank you, lunatic lady.

CASSIDY
The pleasure is all mine. Aaaaaand, cold noodles in sesame sauce.

JOANIE
Thanks. Okay, so I need a general opinion, because I finally have enough money for another piercing.

CASSIDY
(mouth full of food)
Go for it!

JOANIE
Yeah, that wasn’t what I wanted the opinion on, Cass, how about you wait until someone else finishes speaking for once in your life?

JAMIE AND CORA POLITELY TRY NOT TO CRACK UP.

CASSIDY
(laughing)
Ohhh, I got told!

JOANIE
Damn straight. Okay, so here’s my actual question, Cassidy.

CASSIDY
Take a Midol, woman!!

JOANIE
I'm sorry, do you hear something?

CASSIDY FLICKS A CHOPSTICK AND A SMALL GLITTERY PURPLE BUG STARTS BUZZING ALL AROUND JOANIE’S HEAD, STEERED BY CASSIDY’S CHOPSTICK. JOANIE REACHES OUT A HAND AND SNATCHES IT IN ONE MOTION. SHE GIVES CASSIDY A LOOK.

CASSIDY
…damn.

CORA
That was hot, Joan!

JOANIE
Cass?

CASSIDY
(wiggles her fingers)
Gone, it’s gone.

JOANIE OPENS HER HAND. IT’S EMPTY.

CORA
Hott. Two T’s.

JAMIE
(to Jenn)
Joanie has catlike reflexes.

CORA
She really, really does.

JOANIE
I know, I’m awesome. Okay, but seriously though. Nose, or belly button?

CORA
Well, you know I vote bellybutton.

CASSIDY
Oh, def! I'm absoultely in love with mine, plus, like if you get another face piercing you’ll just be Hardware Woman or something, am I right?

JOANIE
That’s what I was thinking, but Emily Gordon has that tiny little stud, you know what I mean?

CORA
The half-moon one?

JOANIE
That looks good, right?

CASSIDY
Oh, I know exactly what you're talking about! Yeah, it’s actually kind of the cutest thing ever.

JOANIE
That's what I'm saying!

CORA
Yeah, but I just think everybody should have their bellybutton pierced, you know?

CASSIDY
What do you think, Jamie Cullen Esquire?

JAMIE
I think your body is beautiful as it is.

EVERYONE BUT JENN START LAUGHING AND SHOUTING.

JOANIE
Oh, you would!

CORA
Ohmigod, Jamie, you are too cute for life!

CASSIDY
(singing)
You are beautifuuulllll, no maaaatter whaaaat they saaayyyyyy!

JAMIE
No, c’mon, I didn’t mean it like—

CASSIDY
Wooords caaaaan’t bring yooooouuuuu downnnnn!

JAMIE
(talking over Cassidy)
I just meant, you could save your money for something else, because you look good already.

JOANIE
Thank you, sweetie, but that was entirely unhelpful.

JAMIE
Well, I try.

JOANIE
What do you think, New Girl?

JENN
Me?

JOANIE
No, the other new girl, behind you.

JENN
I— I really don’t know. I don’t even have my ears pierced.

CASSIDY
Seriously??

JOANIE
How do you not have your ears pierced?

JENN
I was-- my dad, like. Has a thing.

JOANIE
What? What kind of thing?

CORA
It doesn’t matter, J.

JOANIE
She don’t mind, Cora. You don’t mind, do you, New Girl?

CASSIDY
Her name’s Jennifer.

JENN
I’m-- no. I don’t mind.

JOANIE
(to Cora)
What’d I say?

CORA
Joanie.

JOANIE
You some kind of Jesus freak or something, New Girl?

JENN
(flustered)
I--

CASSIDY
Her name—

JOANIE
Jennifer, right. So sorry.

JENN
I’m not-- No. No. My dad’s just. Like. Strict.

JOANIE
But do you want your ears pierced? You do want it, don't you?

JENN
I’ve never thought about it.

JOANIE
Aw, don’t lie.

JAMIE
Joanie, c’mon.

JENN
I honestly never thought about it!

JOANIE
Well, think about it. My cousin works at the tattoo parlor on Thursdays, he can give you a discount. That’s when I’m going.

JENN
I couldn’t, I-- Even if I wanted to. I’m not allowed.

JOANIE
Oh, she’s not allowed! How absolutely precious. Good pick, Cassidy.

CASSIDY
(So Not Laughing)
Joanie, shut the fuck up.

JOANIE, EYES STILL ON JENN, SITS BACK, HANDS IN THE AIR. JENN LOOKS DOWN AT HER FOOD, PROFOUNDLY UNCOMFORTABLE.

FADE OUT.

Gifted pilot, PART TWO!

2008-01-28T06:42:21Z

I feel super-prolific!!

Title: Gifted

Episode: Pilot, Act 1 pt 1

Author: Squeegee

Notes: Here's what we see after our Very First teaser!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A CROWDED SCHOOL HALLWAY. CASSIDY HURRIES DOWN THE HALL, DODGING CROWDS AND TALKING ANIMATEDLY WHILE JENN DOES HER BEST TO KEEP UP.

CASSIDY
Okay, J-Jo, so you totally don’t need to be worried about Kleinberg, no matter what you heard, cause I had him last year for like, two semesters running, and he comes off all hard-ass and he has this, like, reputation or whatever? But it’s, like, a total breeze, I swear. I mean, he gives homework and all, but you never need to do it, because he wants you to like, check it over or something before you hand it in, so he puts all the answers up on the board. Do you believe like half the class actually do it at home anyway?? I am telling you, some people have absolutely no sense of—Oh!! Hey!! Jaaaamie Jamie Jamison!!

CASSIDY GRABS THE ARM OF JAMIE, A TALL BOY WITH A CAMERA BAG.

JAMIE:
Hey! Cassidy! Hi! I didn't see--

CASSIDY:
(waving him off) I'm short. Listen, where were you at Joanie’s thing on Saturday??

JAMIE
That was this weekend?

CASSIDY
Don’t lie to me, Jamiroquai, I know you keep a planner.

JAMIE
Jamiro--??

CASSIDY FLICKS HER FINGERS, AND A PLANNER FLIES OUT OF JAMIE’S POCKET AND INTO HER HAND.

JAMIE:
Cass!

CASSIDY:
(starting to open the book) Let’s just see what was more important to Jamie Cullen than his friends, who care about him, who took him in and fed him when he was hungry and gave him shelter when the cold winds of the thing—

JAMIE HOLDS OUT HIS HAND, AND THE PLANNER SNAPS BACK INTO IT. CASSIDY LAUGHS.

JAMIE
I had to attend a function at my mom’s gallery.

CASSIDY:
(cracking up) He attended!! a function!!

JUST THEN, SAVANNAH COMES UP BEHIND CASSIDY.

SAVANNAH
Who did?

CASSIDY:
Why, it was Sir Jamie Cullen, Esquire!

SAVANNAH
(amused, but clearly used to Cassidy’s antics)
Oh?

CASSIDY
Of the Philadelphia Cullens!!

SAVANNAH
Quite the esteemed gentleman, I hear.

CASSIDY
Oh, quite.

JAMIE
Guys—

CASSIDY
I gather he’s something of a ladies’ man, as well. Very eligible.

JAMIE
Cassidy!!

SAVANNAH
Who, now?

CASSIDY
Why, Jamie Cullen, Esquire, of course!

SAVANNAH
Of the Philadelphia Cullens??

JAMIE
Oh my god.

CASSIDY
Yes indeed!

JAMIE
I don’t know either one of you.

CASSIDY TURNS TO HIM, HOLDS A HAND IN FRONT OF HER MOUTH, AND BLOWS INTO IT. A CLOUD OF GOLD GLITTER FLIES INTO THE AIR ABOVE JAMIE’S HEAD AND SETTLES ALL OVER HIM.

CASSIDY
Love ya.

JAMIE SNORTS, AND GLITTER FLIES EVERYWHERE.

SAVANNAH
(looking at Jenn)
Who’s your friend?

CASSIDY
Oh my god!!! I didn’t even introduce you, I am the absolute worst person!! Vannah, this is Jennifer…

JENN
Hi.

CASSIDY
…and Jenn, I would like to proudly present to you Miss Savannah Nemhauser, my absolute best friend of all time in the universe anywhere ever... (as she speaks, a pink smoky heart shape is forming itself around SAVANNAH’s head.)

SAVANNAH
(swatting at the heart impatiently until it disperses)
Thank you.

CASSIDY
You’re welcome, darling, kisses-kisses. And this is Jamie Cullen. (beat) Esquire.

JENN and SAVANNAH:
Of the Philadelphia Cullens?

BOTH GIRLS LOOK AT EACH OTHER, AND CRACK UP. CASSIDY GIVES A LITTLE HAPPY SHREIK, AND FLICKS BOTH HANDS ABOVE HER HEAD, SENDING GOLD GLITTER EVERYWHERE. SHE TWIRLS AROUND IN IT, AND STARTS RUNNING BACKWARDS DOWN THE HALLWAY. THE OTHERS FOLLOW HER, TALKING.

FADE OUT.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

FADE BACK UP ON JENN’S FACE, CLOSE-UP. SHE’S IN A CLASSROOM, DOODLING ON A PIECE OF PAPER.

JENN V.O.
The thing is? Is that more than anything I wanted to be pissed off. I mean, I had never even been to the Gifted wing of the school, and then now, all of a sudden, I’m just supposed to have, like, this entire life here. Like… flicking a switch. Or something.

TEACHER(from her desk)
One minute remaining, people. And I expect the full list, with half-page explanations for each answer. Before the bell rings, guys!

JENN V.O. (cont’d)
And how is it even fair for my whole life to change, just because I have this supposed... ability, or whatever?

JENN STARES AT HER PAPER. WE CAN SEE THAT IT IS HEADED “LIMITATIONS TO THE GIFT” AND THAT THERE IS A 1) WITH SEVERAL CROSSED-OUT ATTEMPTS AT SENTENCES NEXT TO IT.

JENN V.O. (cont’d)
Oh my god, I don’t know, like, any of this.

THE BELL RINGS. JENN CRUMPLES HER PAPER UP AND SHOVES IT IN HER BAG, AND ATTEMPTS TO GET OUT THE DOOR WITHOUT STOPPING AT THE TEACHER’S DESK. THE TEACHER NOTICES HER.

TEACHER
Excuse me. Excuse me! Miss… uh, Miss-- (checks her seating chart)

JENN PRETENDS (VERY BADLY) NOT TO HEAR, AND SIDLES OUT THE DOOR, INTO THE HALLWAY, AND THEN RUNS INTO THE BATHROOM ACROSS THE HALL AND SLAMS HERSELF AGAINST THE WALL.

JENN V.O.
In my entire life, I have never not turned in an assignment.

THE DOOR TO A STALL OPENS. JENN FLINCHES. A ROLL OF TOILET PAPER FLOATS OUT OF THE STALL AND UNDER THE DOOR OF THE ONE NEXT TO IT.

JENN V.O.
…But that’s probably, like, not even on the top-ten list of ways my life is different today than it was yesterday.

THE TOILET FLUSHES, AND A GIRL COMES OUT. JENN IS STARING.

GIRL
…What?

JENN LOOKS AWAY, UNCOMFORTABLY.

JENN V.O.
It’s probably, like, not even in the top hundred. It’s probably number 732, or something.

JENN TURNS AND STARTS TO LEAVE THE BATHROOM.
FADE OUT.

Comments? Yes?

I made me a fiction journal!

2008-01-27T20:48:52Z

I originally wanted to call it squeegee_scribbles, but it was "too many characters." So fictionalsquee it is!

Anyway. So, as far as writing goes, I basically only one actual ~*~concept~*~ as of right now, but if all goes well there should be more to follow!

I started writing this thing as a story yesterday, but I think it wanted to be a script, instead. So I rewrote it as a TV pilot, and here's what I got:

Title: GIFTED

Episode: PILOT-- “I’M A WHAT????”

Author: Squeegee!

Notes: My basic idea here was to cross the feeling of My So-Called Life, with the basic concept of most of the books I read when I was thirteen. You'll see what I mean in a bit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DARK SCREEN.JENN VOICEOVER.
They called it an “experimental facility.”

NOW WE SEE JENN, AN AVERAGE-LOOKING 16-YEAR-OLD, SITTING ON AN EXAMINER’S TABLE IN A VERY BORING DOCTOR’S OFFICE, SWINGING HER LEGS IDLY. THERE IS A DULL THUMPING NOISE IN THE BACKGROUND.

V.O. (cont’d)
But it basically just looked like my doctor’s office. Even the paintings looked the same. They probably stock-ordered them from some, like, doctor’s office decoration warehouse. Or something.

DR. SCHULOFF ENTERS, WEARING A WHITE LAB COAT.

SCHULOFF:
Jennifer Jordan?

JENN:
Yeah.

SCHULOFF (shaking her hand)
I’m Dr. Schuloff, I’m just gonna ask you some questions, Jennifer, okay?

JENN:
Sure, yeah.

SCHULOFF (sitting and looking at his clipboard):
Okay. Now, your mother tells us you’ve been showing some interesting aptitudes lately, could you tell me about that?

JENN:
See, the thing is—

THERE IS A LOUD THUMP.

SCHULOFF:
Hold on a minute. (presses intercom button) Ellen, could you possibly tell Mencken to keep it down up there? I’m starting to develop a migraine.

INTERCOM (sounding annoyed):
We’re working on it, Dr. Schuloff.

SCHULOFF:
Thank you. (To JENN) I’m sorry, you were saying?

JENN:
Yeah. See, the thing is? Is that my mom is, like, one of these people who gets an idea in her head, you know? Like how cell phones give you cancer, or like… dolphin-safe tuna.

THERE IS ANOTHER THUMP, LOUDER THIS TIME, AND SHULOFF VISIBLY FLINCHES.

SCHULOFF (into intercom):
Ellen!

INTERCOM:
I told you, we’re working on it!

SCHULOFF:
(To JENN) I’m sorry about all this, Dr. Mencken handles most of our more active experimentation, and I’ve TOLD them to soundproof his office, but… (pinches the bridge of his nose) Listen… (checks clipboard) ...Jennifer.

JENN:
Jenn.

SCHULOFF:
Jenn. I know some of the things you’ve heard about the work done at this facility may seem a little bit… unusual, but I can assure you that we are entirely legitimate, and I would appreciate it if you didn’t dismiss my suggestions right off the bat. Okay? Just answer the questions as directly as you can.

JENN (annoyed):
I’ve had all the normal tests, you know. Kindergarten, 3rd grade, 6th grade, just like everybody else. I’m sixteen, I think if I was Gifted I’d probably know about it by now.

SCHULOFF:
Not necessarily. There’s also the possibility that you’re a part of a much larger phenomenon, which—

A LOUD THUMP.

SCHULOFF:
(Breathes deeply, clearly restraining himself from pushing the intercom button again.) O-kay. Jennifer. Do you have anyone Gifted in your family?

JENN (having clearly given up trying to talk sense)
Yeah. Uhh… my uncle in Topeka, and a couple of cousins.

SCHULOFF:
Uncle by blood or marriage?

JENN:
Marriage?

SCHULOFF:
(Marking something on the clipboard.) Uh-huh. Now, in your previous tests, was there ever any indication of-

JENN:
Nope.

SCHULOFF:
Even the smallest levels, they might have seemed insignificant at the time, or—

JENN:
Don’t you, like, have my records?

SCHULOFF:
We’ve been having. Issues. With our internal research department.

JENN:
Really.

SCHULOFF:
If you could just answer the question, Miss Jordan?

JENN:
I don’t have the Gift, okay? I promise. Like… not even a little bit.

SCHULOFF:
Well, I have the results from your blood test here, and they’re inconclusive.

JENN:
They’re… is that, like, possible?

SCHULOFF:
It’s not something we generally see in people your age, no, but that’s actually a very encouraging sign.

JENN V.O.:
Encouraging to who?

JENN:
(nods)

SCHULOFF:
So now, if you could just tell me about the incident that led your mother to call us?

JENN:
It was… nothing.

SCHULOFF:
Assume for my sake that nothing’s nothing.

JENN:
It was, like, I didn’t do, like, Craft or anything, I just… knew some stuff. It was like… It was probably a lucky guess. Or something. My mom just gets, like, really easily excited.

SCHULOFF:
(writes on his clipboard)

JENN:
(shifts uncomfortably)

LOUD THUD. BOTH JENN AND SCHULOFF JUMP.

SCHULOFF:
ELLEN!!!

INTERCOM:
You’re not helping anything by yelling, Doctor.

SCHULOFF:
(into intercom) I’m aware of that, Ellen, thank you. (to JENN) What you’re describing, Jennifer, sounds like what we like to refer to as Autogenic Perception, which is in fact an offshoot of the Gift. Now I just have a few more questions for you…

SCHULOFF CONTINUES TO TALK, BUT WE CAN’T HEAR HIM OVER JENN’S VOICE. WE PUSH IN ON JENN’S FACE.

JENN V.O.:
How many people were in the facility. What drawer of his desk was the stapler in. How many kids does his secretary have.

PUSH OUT TO REVEAL THAT SHE IS SITTING IN A MOSTLY-EMPTY CLASSROOM, TALKING TO CASSIDY.STUDENTS CONTINUE TO FILE IN AND SIT DOWN IN THE BACKGROUND.

CASSIDY:
And you got ‘em all?

JENN:
Like… mostly? But. Anyone could’ve done it.

CASSIDY:
No way! You are absolutely and without question part of the Wave. You’re like!! A mutant!! Or something. No offense.

JENN:
Um.

CASSIDY:
(starts rummaging through her bag) You are so gonna love being in the Gifted program, seriously. You’ll be the absolute talk of the town, it’ll be really very.

(Cassidy pulls a beaten-up, doodled-on binder from her bag and plops it on her desk. A pack of gum falls out of it and onto the floor. CASSIDY flicks her fingers, and it levitates back up to their level, and a stick slides out and offers itself to JENN.)

CASSIDY:
Gum?

~*~CREDITS!~*~

Thanks for reading! Criticism/confusion/questions/comments/concerns appreciated.