The first scene of a screenplay I began writing on a whim tonight, loosely inspired by Hunter S. Thompson & Max's "Whores, Dears and Red Convertibles." Makes up for my lack of post last week.
FADE IN:
EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY
The day is scorching, heat rising from the asphalt. A red 96’ Pontiac Sunfire, both windows wide open, speeds down a Montreal highway recklessly. It dodges cars, switching lanes back and forth nearly knocking the back bumper of every other car in sight. The engine rumbles loudly, smoke peering from the creases of the hood.
INT. PONTIAC SUNFIRE - DAY
UNCLE JACK is at the wheel, frail and tanned with a sweaty face and a greasy, unshaven beard. A jittery fellow, he is barely paying attention to the road as his eyes shift and hands move from the dials on the radio to adjusting his thick glasses. A cigarette in desperate need of ashing is hanging loosely at the tip of his lips. A Molson Ex rests in his cup holder and he grabs for it at takes a sip. He wears a stained dress shirt, the buttons all undone, hair protruding from his chest.
BILLY is in the passenger seat, barely eighteen years old, pale, freckles. He is shitting his pants.
UNCLE JACK
(looking directly at Billy)
You see Billy, the thing you gotta’ learn about Montreal is--
He blasts his wimpy car horn.
UNCLE JACK (CONT’D)
Fucking piece of shit! The thing you gotta learn is, every man on the road in this God forsaken city has to fend for himself. It’s a fucking dog-eat-dog world out there, man, everyone’s got places to be, things to see and money to make. That don’t mean these fucking French peppers should get in your way!
He slams the gas, swerving across three lanes, cars all honking at him. He gets off the highway at the exit he barely makes.
UNCLE JACK (CONT’D)
Take for example that whore I used to date-- your aunt, Candy. Esti putain de merde that bitch was, I tell you. Sucked off every bastard in head office. Every separatist shit disturber. Anyway. Things are a little better now. I figured I’d get over my addiction to her with a new addiction. I thought, maybe cigarettes. Tried a couple, and now I’m hooked. Thought, what doesn’t kill you, right bud!?
Billy continues to sit terrified in the passengers, ready to be sick. Jack looks at him.
UNCLE JACK (CONT’D)
Hahaaa! You okay there Billy-boy, looking a little green. Don’t you worry, I got a little pitstop to make anyway.
They pull up to a Best-Buy zooming through the packed parking lot and he speeds into a handicap parking space, slamming the breaks as they screech. When he shuts the engine, the entire car sounds as if it will collapse.
BILLY
Are we allowed to even--
Jack opens the glove compartment, parking and speeding tickets all falling out. He pulls out a handicap parking voucher and hooks it up onto his review mirror.
UNCLE JACK
Let’s roll Billy Boy.
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2 comments:
I wanted to learn more about Jack's bitterness, and more about Billy's story. I imagined it as a movie while I read it. Funny, in a slightly laugh-at-others-misfortunes way.
I can totally see Uncle Jack portrayed in film by Billy Bob Thorton. Or Leahy from Trailer Park Boys.
I don't really know how to critique this in terms of style, but as a film in my imagination it definitely pulls me in. I really like Uncle Jack, he seems so typically Quebecois and outrageous. I wanna know what kinds of crazy shit he'll put Billy through and what kinds of insights Billy will have about him, being the sensitive soul that he is (or isn't - maybe he's one of those supremely dense kids that are naive to a fault?).
The real question is: Is Uncle Jack the oddball of the family, or Billy? I wanna see what Mrs. uncle is like!
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