i didn't realize we had this forum. here's a script i've been working on for fun. it's not in the right format and it's unfinished, but thoughts and opinions would be appreciated and might entice me to finish.
Ext. Early Afternoon. Bustling streets of Chicago
THE WARD, Late Twenties, walks the streets of downtown Chicago. His dark hair is a disheveled crown upon his head. He wears no shoes, no shirt, only a pair of aged and dirtied animal skin pants. His face is a beacon of concern and interest as he voraciously consumes his surroundings. His eyes, completely black spheres vast as a winter evening, extrapolate every detail. It's fall in Chicago; the sky is overcast and rain waters rest in puddles on the ground. Brisk winds scrape past the ONGOERS as they too walk the streets of Chicago adorned in more appropriate jackets and knit caps.
The ward reaches out towards ONGOER 1, 20 and male, as he nears. ONGOER 1 is engrossed with a conversation he is having on his cell phone and hardly notices The Ward.
The Ward:
Mahala keli. Moka Mahala.
ONGOER 1:
To be honest, I don't care. I mean, it's every day with this.
ONGOER 1 puts change from his pocket into THE WARD's open palm and continues on his way. ONGOER 1 is so preoccupied with his phone call he never breaks stride to assess the absurdity of the panhandler before him.
ONGOER 1:
You know what I mean? If they break up, fine. I'll be there, but if not...I'm not going to wait.
The Ward examines the loose change in his hand with severe confusion. He jostles the little metal trinkets and listens to the clinking noise they make. His attention is only broken as another ONGOER WITH DOG, 28 and male, approaches. The ONGOER WITH DOG walks forward with unhappy intent as though the dog is his only reason for being outdoors on such a cool evening.
The Ward:
Mahala keli. Polo polo moka mahala.
The Ward again reaches out his hand towards the ONGOER WITH DOG, only this time he makes contact with the person. There is a brief moment of mutual blankness on the faces of The Ward and the ONGOER WITH DOG as The Ward's hand rests on the ONGOER WITH DOG's right shoulder. The moment is gone shortly, and the ONGOER WITH DOG violently pulls himself away.
ONGOER WITH DOG:
Don't friggin' touch me, crackhead, or I'll snap off your arms and feed them to my dog.
The ONGOER WITH DOG shoves The Ward in the chest as he rushes past with his dog. The shove causes The Ward to stumble slightly, but he catches himself on a nearby trash bin. He moves the bottom of his jaw along the top.
The Ward (to himself):
Don't friggin' touch me, crackhead.
The Ward looks around him quickly. There is no one in his immediate vicinity.
The Ward:
Huh. West Germanic tongue...
The Ward turns his attention towards the numerous street side signs that pock Chicago's downtown area.
The Ward:
Latin derived writing system...violent and volatile society comprised of an indifferent and contentious people complete with man-eating canine companions. What a time to be alive.
Int. Local Convenience Store. Early Afternoon Hours
The Ward enters a nearby convenience store. Fluorescent lights illuminate the rows upon rows of purchasable miscellanea. Thanksgiving derived décor is scattered throughout the store. The Ward stands in the door way and examines the store thoroughly, before catching eyes with the STORE CLERK, 30 male. The Ward's face cracks open with a smile and he eagerly advances on the STORE CLERK. The STORE CLERK is the poster boy for occupational indifference. His hair is matted, and unwashed; his blue eyes dully take in The Ward.
The Ward:
Good Morning, Shop keep. You wouldn't mind if I asked you a few questions?
STORE CLERK:
Go ahead.
The Ward:
Splendid. As they say, the merchant is the eyes and ears of any city.
STORE CLERK (humoring The Ward):
Yup, that's basically what I hear them say.
The Ward:
Excellent. So tell me, have you seen anything strange lately?
STORE CLERK:
What?
The Ward:
Anything strange. Out of the ordinary. Weird. Odd. Peculiar.
STORE CLERK:
I know what strange means. This is Chicago, dude, I see a lot of weird things.
The Ward:
I mean the events or people that transcend ordinary out of the ordinary. The notably odd.
STORE CLERK:
I don't know, man. You're about the weirdest thing I've seen in awhile.
The Ward:
Yes. Like me, but different. I mean really weird stuff.
STORE CLERK:
Weirder than you? Hmmm...
The Ward:
How about anything that you might classify as magical?
STORE CLERK:
Magical? Like unicorns?
The Ward:
Well, sort of, I guess...
STORE CLERK:
No, I haven't seen any unicorns lately.
The Ward:
Not unicorns. More like magic people.
STORE CLERK:
Ah, like wizards.
The Ward:
Yes! Like wizards.
STORE CLERKS:
Nope. No wizards.
The Ward:
No?
STORE CLERK:
No.
The Ward:
Are you sure?
STORE CLERK:
Yeah. I'm sure. It's been awhile since I've seen a wizard.
The Ward focuses his eyes on the STORE CLERK closely analyzing the movements of his face. The STORE CLERK counters with a humoring smile.
The Ward(whispering):
You don't have to fear your tongue. You can talk to me, I will protect you.
Store Clerk(leaning towards THE WARD):
Look, I'm cool with you warming up in here for a few seconds. It's cold, I get it. But now you gotta leave. I mean you smell, and you're not wearing any clothes, and you're kinda creeping me out. And that's against store policy.
The Ward(in a dramatic attempt to inspire):
Sir, there's no need to be difficult. The well being of everything you know is at stake. You, your store, your city, everything could be gone before your next breath. I'm here to stop it. I am your protector; I am your ward. But I can't do it alone. I need your cooperation. Will you help me?
STORE CLERK:
Get out of my store or I'm calling the police.
As the STORE CLERK is becoming quite agitated The Ward decides that no progress is going to be gained from talking further with him. The Ward extends his hand to the STORE CLERK and touches the man on his temple. Again there is a brief moment of blankness on each of their faces. The Ward pulls his arm back, but the STORE CLERK remains in a blank state.
The Ward:
Nothing. That doesn't make any sense. It would have had to be something of enormous gravity to bring me back here. But, nothing...
The STORE CLERK continues to stare blankly, void of reaction. The Ward waves his hand in front of the STORE CLERK's face and whistles.
The Ward:
May have pulled a little hard there.
The Ward sighs as he contemplates the STORE CLERK's lack of witnessing something extremely odd. He looks to his peripheral and catches a glimpse of himself in the reflection of a sunglasses rack's mirror on the counter next to the STORE CLERK.
The Ward:
I suppose I am a little under dressed.
The Ward walks away from the counter and towards a clothing rack in the front of the store. He pulls a sweatshirt from the rack, unfolds the material and pulls it over his head. The sweatshirt is two sizes too large for him. The word CHICAGO is sprawled across the chest.
The Ward:
And the eyes. Not that many people around here with night eyes, I notice.
The Ward walks back over to the counter and grabs a pair of cheap aviators from the sunglasses rack. He puts them on and checks himself out in the rack's mirror. He smiles in appreciation of his new look.
The Ward:
Much better.
The STORE CLERK continues to stare dumbly off into nothing. The Ward drops the change he was given earlier on the counter and waves his hand in front of the STORE CLERK again. The STORE CLERK does nothing. As The Ward waves his hand in front of the STORE CLERK a CUSTOMER, forties and female, takes her place behind The Ward in line.
The Ward:
I hope you don't mind, I seem to be a little short. I'll just have to get you back next time.
The Ward starts to walk out of the store tugging on his over-sized sweatshirt trying to get it to sit more comfortably. After The Ward's first couple steps away, the CUSTOMER eagerly engages the STORE CLERK. She drops two arms full of groceries in front of the STORE CLERK.
CUSTOMER:
I didn't see any non-fat milk back there. You don't have any stored away in the back somewhere, do you?
The STORE CLERKS only response to the CUSTOMER is to make a slight belching noise, all while not moving an inch and continuing to stare. The Ward turns and engages the confrontation between the CUSTOMER and the STORE CLERK.
CUSTOMER:
Non-fat milk? Yes? No?
A miniscule drop of saliva escapes from the STORE CLERKS mouth and forms a glistening strand from his lip.
CUSTOMER:
Hello? What is wrong with you?
The Ward:
I think he's on break.
CUSTOMER:
So? He can still answer the question. He's being incredibly rude.
The Ward:
Yeah, he is. Why don't I take care of your groceries? My uncle owns this place. I've got a tab.
The CUSTOMER gushes a smile as The Ward collects her groceries and places them in her arms.
CUSTOMER:
Oh, thank you! That is so nice!
The Ward:
Don't mention it. And they should be getting more milk tomorrow. Noonish.
CUSTOMER(to STORE CLERK):
Jerk.
The Ward pulls the CUSTOMER in close.
The Ward:
Don't let him get to you. Between us, that guy isn't going to be working here much longer anyways. Bit of a space case.
The Ward lifts his sunglasses and winks as he turns and jovially struts out the door. The CUSTOMER, still slightly flustered from the whole experience, watches The Ward leave in bewilderment. She takes notice of his missing shoes and her face becomes more quizzical.
Int. Early Afternoon. The Brodey Apartment.
Kenny Brodey, male early twenties, plays video games from his couch. He is wearing pajama pants and a subtly stained white tee shirt. His dark hair is unkempt as he has obviously just awaken recently. A blue tooth rests in his ear, a two liter of soda by his feet, hot pocket wrappers are littered around him leaving him the epicenter of mess in an otherwise tidy apartment. Kenny is implementing a very slouching posture as he plays, resting the controller on his stomach and resting his feet on the coffee table in front of him.
Kenny(into the bluetooth):
Whoa. Watch out running through the middle. There's a sniper taking pot shots from the north tower.
Kenny blindly stretches his arm out feeling for the two liter of cola, his eyes never breaking focus with the television screen. He finally finds the two liter by his feet and twists the cap off. As he does, he comes to a realization that brings a wry simle to his face..
Kenny(into the blue tooth):
Never mind. False alarm. This guy just happens to be the worst sniper that's ever lived.
KENNY takes a large sip straight from the two liter bottle,as he does he rests the thumb of his free hand on the joystick spinning his video game character in circles.
Kenny(blue tooth):
No. I'm literally running around in circles as he fires rounds into nothing. It's kinda of funny in this really sad way.
KENNY takes another long sip from the two liter whilst spinning his character.
Kenny(blue tooth):
I'll probably die of natural causes before this guy lines me up.
KENNY punches himself in the chest to force a large belch.
Kenny(blue tooth):
Kid must be having a seizure or something.
Kenny finishes the two liter of coke and tosses it behind himself and the couch.
Kenny(blue tooth):
Alright, I'm going in. Put him out of his misery.
Corrine Brodey, mid twenties female, enters the front door of the apartment. She obviously has just got off work; she is dressed in business casual attire, her hair is pulled into a ponytail, there is a harried air about her. She sees Kenny sitting on the couch and looks relieved. She tosses her apartment keys onto the coffee table.
Corrine:
I'm glad to see you.
Corrine continues through the living room and walks into the kitchen.
Kenny(to Corrine in the kitchen):
Most people are.
Kenny(blue tooth):
No, it's my sister. Hold C, I'm going to take B.
Int. Brodey Apartment Kitchen. Early Afternoon.
Corinne walks into the kitchen and pulls a bottle water out of the fridge. She takes a long drink before she sees that Kenny has left hot pocket boxes on top of the trash can. She grabs the boxes.
Corrine(to Kenny in the living room):
On top of the trash can. That's close, Kenny, but trash actually goes inside of the trash can.
Kenny(from the living room):
Trash can's full.
Kenny(to blue tooth):
Not talking to you, talking to my sister.
Corrine puts the boxes into the trash and pulls the bag out. She ties the bag and puts it on the ground.
Corrine(to herself):
Trash can's full. I can see why that would be confusing.
Corrine opens a cabinet door and pulls a new trash bag out. She inflates it and puts it into the trash can.
She grabs the full trash bag.
Corrine(to Kenny in the living room):
I need you to give me that sixty dollars for the gas bill.
Kenny(from living room):
Sixty dollars? No problem. I'm TALKING TO MY SISTER! What the hell is so hard to understand about that?
Int. The Brodey Living Room. Early Afternoon.
Corrine reenters the living room with the trash bag in hand. Kenny continues to focus on his game.
Corrine:
Like now.
Kenny:
I didn't go to work today, so I don't have the check. I'll get it tomorrow. Oh, come on.
Kenny flings his blue tooth into the couch.
Corrine:
Kenny, I need it tonight.
Kenny:
Why? I'll get it tomorrow. It's fine.
Corrine:
Gary's taking me to that new club downtown tonight.
Kenny:
You know, if Gary was a real man he would pay for his woman.
Corrine:
How would you know what a real man does?
Kenny:
I watch a lot of movies. Now, shhhhh. I'm trying to kill kids on the internet.
Corrine:
Kenny, come on. It's two in the afternoon. You still have plenty of time to go to Petey's and the bank and get back to playing video games with your idiot friends.
Kenny:
I just woke up. It's my day off. I'm not going anywhere. I'll get the check tomorrow. Please, I'm trying to concentrate.
Corrine reaches over the back of the couch and grabs the television remote from Kenny's peripheral. She turns the television off. Kenny tosses the remote to his side and darts for the television. He turns it on and reacts in disbelief.
Kenny:
What the hell, Corrine? I had a eighteen kill streak going. Now I'm dead. You killed your own brother.
KENNY shakes his head in disappoinment of his sister.
Corrine:
Go to work. Get your check. Go the bank. Give me my money. You know, I don't need this. I make enough to live on my own. This is to help you out. Would it be so hard for you to be just a little more grateful?
Kenny:
If you make so much money then why can't you wait until tomorrow?
Corrine:
Go.
Kenny:
Fine.
Corrine extends her trash wielding hand to Kenny as he grabs his keys from the coffee table.
Corrine:
Take this out with you.
Ext. Chicago Bean. Early Afternoon.
THE WARD stands enamored with the glinting metallic construction before him. There are still a handful of visitors to The Bean despite the chill weather, but none with the intense interest of The WARD. He runs his fingers along its sleek curvature and admires his distorted reflection. A FATHER, early thirties and male, and his SON, eight and male, watch the WARD as he interacts with The Bean.
THE WARD(to self):
Such a unique creation. Soaking in its surroundings and regurgitating them out anew. A distorted perspective on the everyday perception.
THE WARD turns from the bean and addresses the people around him.
THE WARD(to FATHER and SON):
Is this some sort of altar or monument? A gift to the Gods? Who was this created for?
FATHER:
I think it was made for everyone.
SON:
It's the bean.
THE WARD(To self):
The bean, of course. Plentiful. Great source of protein, fiber, complex carbohydrates and vitamins. It must be the staple of their diet. Something to be venerated, and celebrated. (to FATHER and SON) Well, this is something wonderful.
FATHER:
Yup...
THE WARD(to self as he runs fingers along the bean):
Fantastic.
The FATHER takes a few steps away from THE WARD shielding his son with his arm.
THE WARD:
Don't let my presence taint your spirituality. Pray to your bean.
SON:
You're not wearing any shoes.
THE WARD quickly looks down at his feet and looks at the SON.
THE WARD:
Yes, that's very observant of you.
On this comment, THE WARD, FATHER and SON sit in awkward silence.
THE WARD:
This is weird...that I am not wearing any shoes?
FATHER:
A little weird.
SON:
It's raining. Aren't your feet cold?
THE WARD:
Yes. My feet are cold. And wet. Do you have any shoes that I may use?
FATHER:
No.
Another awkward moment rests between THE WARD, the FATHER and his SON.
THE WARD:
Okay. Well, enjoy your bean.
THE WARD turns with alacrity and lightly jogs away from the FATHER and SON. Expeditiously exiting an uncomfortable scene. The SON struggles to understand what he just stood witness to. He turns to his dad for answers.
SON:
Is that man okay?
FATHER(wistful):
Ben, some people don't have mommies and daddies. They don't have brothers or sisters or pop pops or nammies. All they have is themselves. They're alone and scared. And sometimes when you're alone and scared you just need someone to talk to. Even if you don't really know them, and even if they don't really want to talk to you. You just need to talk with someone.
SON:
You shouldn't run without shoes.
Int. Petey's Pizza Kitchen. Day.
JUNIOR MINAYA, early thirties male and hispanic, washes dishes in the industrial sink that sits in the corner of Petey's kitchen. The reds, greens and whites of sauce, vegetables, and cheese are peppered at random across the counters and floor. But in particular, the now dormant making zone is where most of the mess collects. The lunch rush has ended and the restaurant's fervor has dissipated into a calm. JUNIOR rings a towel from the sink and swipes it across the nearest counter in a swift albeit haphazard manner, knocking the bulk of discarded food to the floor. KENNY BRODIE enters the kitchen from the employee's back entrance. Hearing his arrival, JUNIOR turns towards his guest. His face sculpted into the stern, no-nonsense stare the people around him have quickly learn to expect.
JUNIOR:
What are you doing here, Brodie? I thought you had today off.
KENNY:
I do, but I missed you. I just couldn't bear going a day without seeing your pretty face.
JUNIOR
Ah, that's sweet.
KENNY:
Did you miss me?
JUNIOR:
No, not really. You're an ass.
KENNY:
C'mon, tough guy. Give me a hug.
KENNY stretches his arms out awaiting an embrace, but JUNIOR makes no motion to hug.
JUNIOR:
Seriously though, why are you here? I doubt you would come all this way just to piss me off. Wait. Let me guess, you wanted to clean the kitchen after the lunch rush?
KENNY:
That's close. I want my check.
JUNIOR:
It's always about money with you, isn't it?
JUNIOR reaches into his pocket and pulls out a set of keys.
JUNIOR:
There's some mistake pizza over by the delivery boxes if you're interested. Apparently that idiot, Cowler, can't tell the difference between green olives and green peppers.
KENNY:
How old is it?
JUNIOR(slighty agitated):
I don't know. Forty five minutes? An hour maybe? Since when do you care?
KENNY smiles and shrugs as he walks over to the delivery boxes and grabs a slice of mistake pizza. Junior walks out of the kitchen into some unseen room to collect KENNY's check.
JUNIOR (as he leaves the kitchen):
Even when you're off, you're a pain in my ass.
KENNY smirks to himself as he chews the pizza and watches his boss leave. After only a few bites, JUNIOR returns with a small envelope concealing Kenny's check. He extends the check to KENNY who stands and takes it from him.
JUNIOR:
What do you need the money for? Hot date?
KENNY:
You know it. I'm going to take her to the most happening place you can take a girl for...
KENNY rips open the envelope and takes out the check to see how much it is written for.
KENNY:
Sixty eight dollars? What the hell, man?
JUNIOR:
Sixty eight dollars ain't bad. That's a decent night on the town.
KENNY:
I owe my sister sixty.
JUNIOR:
Don't get mad at me. You called off Tuesday and half of Wednesday. And besides, you're supposed to be making tips. It's not my fault if you're no good at your job.
KENNY:
How am I suppose to make tips from the kitchen?
JUNIOR:
You're the one refusing to wait tables.
KENNY:
What about delivering? Cowler can't even read a map.
JUNIOR:
You're not driving around for Petey's in that rolling coffin. The wheels are going to pop off like a wine cork and send you tearing through a park. It's a lawsuit waiting to happen.
KENNY:
Oh, I forgot that you were a lawyer slash pizza guy. You're killing me, Junior.
JUNIOR:
Shut up.
KENNY:
You know, I had no idea I was such a charitable person until I started working here, in your soup kitchen.
JUNIOR:
You done yet?
KENNY:
Yea I'm done...with you and this stupid job...
JUNIOR:
Whatever. You're coming in tomorrow, right?
KENNY:
I don't know. Where am I working?
JUNIOR(in some disbelief):
In the kitchen. Where do you think?
KENNY:
It's not like I really have a choice, is it? I mean I still have bills.
JUNIOR:
Alright, see you at one.
KENNY gives a half-hearted wave over his shoulder as he heads out of the back kitchen entrance. Although KENNY's back is turned and he can't see him, JUNIOR waves back before going back to his cleaning duties.
Ext. Kenny Brodie's bank's outdoor ATM. Day.
KENNY BRODIE stands in front of his ATM looking slightly perturbed from his earlier conversations with his sister and boss. He slides his work check into the machine and waits a moment. The machine rejects the check with a disheartening beep. KENNY sighs in frustration and hastily pulls the check from the dispenser. He looks it over, concludes that it's fine, and redepostits it into the machine with meticulous care. The machine sucks the check in.
KENNY:
(in a mocking whispered tone) Your car is dangeous. You're gonna run over people in the park. (in his normal voice) I've delivered in that car for five years and never once have I ran someone over in the park.
The ATM rejects the check with another taunting beep. KENNY loses his cool with the machine and yells. A PASSING WOMAN, forty and female, is startled by the outburst, cowering away from KENNY. She quickly collects herself and gives KENNY her dirtiest look as she hurries away.
Kenny(to the PASSING WOMAN):
Sorry. Stupid thing won't take my check.
The PASSING WOMAN is uninterested in KENNY's explanation and completely ignores his apologies. KENNY forfeits any attempt to make amends with the PASSING WOMAN. He turns his attentions back to his check. He pulls the check taught between his hands and rubs it against the corner of his bank's foundation, hoping to work out any wrinkles. After a couple of minutes, KENNY examines the check again, and after it again passes his inspection, deposits it back into the ATM. It is again sucked into the machine.
KENNY:
Come on...
The machine accepts his check.
KENNY:
About time.
Kenny starts to push buttons on the ATM's touch screen. The machine ejects three crisp twenty dollar bills. KENNY grabs the money, but as soon as it's in hand, he yelps in pain and violently reaches down towards his left leg. KENNY stares angrily at a gray squirrel that bounds away from him. He touches his fingers to the bite wound that is already starting to bloody the white of his sock.
KENNY:
You've got to be kidding me! I mean, who gets bit by a squirrel? Really just great. I don't have health insurance and some furry little Manson just gave me rabies.
KENNY's face goes blank for a second. His mouth hangs agape and his eyes dead stare. Kenny shakes the blankness off his face.
KENNY:
Whoa...
KENNY takes a few unsteady paces forward before losing his balance and bracing himself against the wall of the bank. He rests uneasily there, taking a couple heavy breaths as if trying to overcome nausea.
KENNY(weakly):
Oh, dude...
KENNY moans and grabs at his stomach, doubling over as it wrenches in pain. He slowly slides his back along the bank wall and takes a seat on the sidewalk next to it. His panting increases in rapidity and intensity, sweat is beginning to form on his face. Another strong pang eminates from his stomach and KENNY cringes severly. A faint groan is uttered and then suddenly he stops. KENNY no longer cringes, no longer whines. Not just pain has been wiped from his face, everything has. Robotically, KENNY lifts himself up from the ground. He rhythmically marches home, twenty dollars still balled in his left fist.
EXT. City street in Chicago. Early Evening.
The WARD wanders the street completely occupied with all that is around him. He marvels at the trees, and buildings. He awes at the signs and cars. He does not look where he is going and walks into a garbage can that sentries the corner.
WARD(rubbing leg after kicking the metal garbage can):
Ouch... That is a tall building.
The WARD's face forms a wild smile as he observes just how high one of Chicago's skyscrapers can go. He starts to move again, this time staring straight into the sky. KENNY BRODIE approaches the WARD on the sidewalk from the opposite direction. Much the opposite than the wandering WARD whose sight is focused upward, his is focused dead ahead with mouth open and eyes vacant. KENNY's arms and legs move like a programmed machine, timely and efficient. The WARD begins to spin while still moving forward, trying to see the tops of all the buildings within his vicinity. As he does, he walks straight into KENNY BRODIE. The impact hardly effects KENNY, but it sends the WARD bouncing off as KENNY continues his pace. The WARD jogs up to KENNY attempting to apolgize.
THE WARD:
I'm really sorry. Wasn't looking where I was going.
KENNY keeps on marching without acknowledging the WARD or his apology. The WARD keeps jogging alongside him hoping to interact.
THE WARD:
These building are so tall. I was trying to calculate in my head which could hold the most water. I think it's that one. Not the tallest, but it's got girth.
KENNY doesn't respond to the WARD in any capacity.
THE WARD:
Oh, come on. Look, I'm really sorry.
The WARD jumps in front of KENNY and outstretches his arm for a hand shake. KENNY breaks neither stride nor focus and walks through the WARD's extended palm knocking it away from him with his chest. The WARD stands with his arm out in disbelief as he watches KENNY walk away.
The WARD:
What a weirdo.
The WARD comes to a realization upon saying the word "weirdo". Suddenly this entranced marcher is of great interest to him. He follows KENNY as inconspicuoulsy has he can, trying not to gain the zombie's attention.
Ext. The Oakdale Apartments. Early Evening.
The Oakdale Apartents stand strong along its aging peers in one of the older blocks of Chicago, a weathered pillar of brick and cement framed amongst the foliage of deciduous trees. A short walkway extends from the entrance of the building flanked by the little dirt canals of mirroring city gardens. MR. MORTENSEN, late sixties and male, is opening the Oakdale's glass door main entrance when he sees the slowly closing shell of KENNY BRODIE. MR. MORTENSEN is a friendly jovial old man, finding some sort of inner peace as he ages. His wide face easily forms smiles and his pale eyes still glimmer with life under his feral whirlwind of white hair. He holds the door open for KENNY BRODIE.
MR. MORTENSEN:
Oh, hey Kenny. Got the day off?
KENNY BRODIE does nothing to indicate acknowledgment of MR. MORTENSEN's salutation. He stiffly walks past the old man and into the building. MR. MORTENSEN continues his conversation as he follows KENNY through the door.
MR. MORTENSEN:
You and your sister haven't been getting any of my mail have you? I've been expecting a letter from my grandson for a couple weeks now.
The door closes behind MR. MORTENSEN silencing the soft tone of his voice.
Ext. Just outside the Oakdale Apartments. Early Evening.
THE WARD watches the interactions of MR. MORTENSEN and KENNY BRODIE from afar, poorly hidden amongst the bushes of a neighboring building.
THE WARD:
Kinney...Caney...Kindly?
THE WARD carefully walks towards the Oakdale's glass entry, nervously glancing about him as he does. When he gets to the door, he cautiously places his hand upon the handle. Slowly, he tries to pull the door open. It doesn't budge, clanking as the lock smacks the metal interior of the frame. Like most buildings, The Oakdale's entrance is locked from the exterior. After being denied, THE WARD tries to open the door with more force, only to be more violently halted by the buidling's defense mechanism. Frustrated THE WARD violently flails at the door handle.
INT. The Oakdale's Elevator lobby. Early Evening.
MR. MORTENSEN and KENNY BRODIE sit silent and patient as they wait for the elevator. MR MORTENSEN touches the up button and exhales a breathy laugh.
MR MORTENSEN:
Guess we forgot to hit the button.
The elevator arrives and the doors slide open. KENNY BRODIE enters the cavity with the enthusiasm of a granite block. MR. MORTENSEN is quick behind him and hits the clear circle next to the number seven. The doors begin to close when MR. MORTENSEN hears the thrashing of THE WARD outside. MR. MORTENSEN impedes the elevator doors with an extended forearm, and they slide back open in reaction.
MR. MORTENSEN:
Would you hold the elevator for me?
MR. MORTENSEN steps out of the elevator to address the noise outside.
INT. The Oakdale's entrance. Early Evening
THE WARD flings his limbs wildly at the defiant plane of glass desperately trying to force its concession. MR. MORTENSEN can plainly see this desperation as he saunters near, a light hearted smile on his face. He pushes the door open from the inside, where it allows passage without key, and lets the WARD in.
MR. MORTENSEN
Forgot your keys?
THE WARD:
Thank you.
THE WARD quickly examines the door looking for an explanation as to why it open with such ease for the old man and so stubbornly for him. MR MORTENSEN begins his slow trek back to the elevator lobby; THE WARD gives up on the door and follows him.
MR. MORTENSEN
Happens to me all the time, son. Are you new to the building?
THE WARD:
What? Yea, I guess. I've never been here before.
MR MORTENSEN:
Thought so. I know almost everyone here. It's a good building, you know, the owners don't live on site but the maintenance guy does. His name is Phil. You met him?
THE WARD:
I'm not sure. I've met a lot of people. Don't know all their names.
MR MORTENSEN:
Well, I'll have to introduce you. He's a real nice guy. About your age, maybe a little older. He throws a party every Halloween. You'd probably get along. He's a lot of fun.
MR MORTENSEN and THE WARD reach the elevator and MR MORTENSEN hits the up button.
MR MORTENSEN:
Sorry. I asked someone to hold this, but he must not of heard me. Seemed pretty distracted.
THE WARD knocks along the metal barrier of the elevator shaft. He sticks his fingers between the crease and tries to pull the elevator shaft open. MR MORTENSEN laughs cheerfully in response.
THE WARD:
None of the doors work.
MR MORTENSEN
Yea, there's only one elevator so you can find yourself waiting sometimes.
The elevator arrives and MR MORTENSEN walks into the inviting opening. THE WARD follows. MR MORTENSEN again hits the seven button.
MR MORTENSEN:
Which floor?
THE WARD:
Okay?
MR MORTENSEN:
I guess were neighbors then. (jokingly) Don't make too much noise.
INT. Elevator unit. Early Evening.
THE WARD is greatly startled as the elevator moans and rattles into its ascent. With a swell of fear, he braces himself against the walls. He searches the tiny compartment for an explanation and sees MR. MORTENSEN appraising him in bemusement.
THE WARD:
Do you feel that?
MR. MORTENSEN:
Yea, the elevator kicks around a little bit.
THE WARD:
Elevator?...we're elevating...
MR. MORTENSEN:
It's an old building and it's got its quirks. But I'll tell you, in my fifteen years the elevator's only been down once. And that was only for three days about six years back. They really take good care of the place.
INT. Seventh Floor Elevator entrance. Early Evening.
With a subtle chime, the elevator arrives to its seventh floor destination. The doors slide open and THE WARD bounds from his claustrophobic prison for the assuring stability of immobile ground. MR. MORTENSEN calmly follows suit, helping THE WARD get back to his feet.
THE WARD:
I do not like elevating.
MR MORTENSEN:
A stair man? It's a lot healthier for you.
THE WARD:
I could imagine.
MR MORTENSEN extends his hand for shaking and THE WARD obliviously ignores it.
MR MORTENSEN:
Mr. Mortensen.
THE WARD:
I don't know what that means.
MR. MORTENSEN (befuddled):
It's, uh, it's my name.
THE WARD:
Oh, it's a great name. So many syllables. Your family must be proud.
MR MORTENSEN:
A lot of people have had it before me, but I think that I do it justice.
THE WARD:
Of course you do.
MR MORTENSEN:
All right. Well, I really got to get going, I was hoping to get a little laundry done today. It was nice to meet you...
MR MORTENSEN pauses for THE WARD's name, which he doesn't give. After awkwardly sitting silent for far too long, MR MORTENSEN continues.
MR MORTENSEN:
I like you. I think you'll bring a very unique vibe to this place. We could use that. Some of the residents around here are a little cold.
THE WARD:
They're just going to get colder, winter is approaching.
MR MORTENSEN:
Winter does tend to fuel the discontent. Well, don't be a stranger.
THE WARD (sincerely):
I'll try.
MR. MORTENSEN chuckles softly to himself as he turns and strolls down the hallway to his apartment. THE WARD, now sure his encounter with MR. MORTENSEN is over resumes his search for KENNY BRODIE. He walks in the opposite direction of MR MORTENSEN, running his fingers along the hallway walls and thoroughly examining its hard dark maple doors.
THE WARD:
Kinnay...Keeney...Kininily...
INT. OUTSIDE THE CARNEY APARTMENT. EARLY EVENING
THE WARD abruptly stops his slow, dawdling stroll down the hallway. With an electric spinning jump, he faces a door to his immediate left. It is an earthy deep brown door, heavy and sturdy, not unlike any other of the doors on the floor except for one minute detail. Centered by the door's dingy white painted frame, just under the resident's peephole and just above its numerical assignment, a white ledger rests proclaiming "Carney" in scrawling hand written pen.
THE WARD:
Carney! I've found you!
THE WARD attempts to let himself into the apartment, slamming himself shoulder first into the rich wood as he's denied by another lock. Thinking back to a previous occasion, THE WARD closely searches the door.
THE WARD:
There's no buttons?
THE WARD is still in the midst of his button search when the door cracks open, just as far as the chain lock will allow. Exposed in the opening is the apartment's owner, MR CARNEY. He is a man of girth, completely blocking the interior of his apartment from view. His hair is unctuous and frayed as if shaped by pillows and blankets and sweat. He is unshaven and unwashed, chronic conditions that have plagued MR CARNEY most of his adult life. He is adorned in an old discolored bathrobe and time weathered slippers. Distrusting eyes peer at THE WARD through bent, scratched glasses.
MR CARNEY:
Who are you? Why are you trying to open my door?
THE WARD:
Those are both very good questions.
MR CARNEY:
What do you want?
THE WARD:
Is there someone else here?
THE WARD stands on his toes trying to peak over the giant before him.
THE WARD:
Perhaps behind you?
MR CARNEY:
No. There's no one else here. I live by myself...with my rottweiler.
THE WARD:
Rotting what?
MR CARNEY:
It's a dog. A big mean dog.
THE WARD:
Oh. Yes, of course.
MR CARNEY attempts to shut his door but THE WARD stops its closure with his foot. Grimacing in pain as his foot is crushed he again tries questioning MR CARNEY.
THE WARD:
Are you sure there's no one else here? Maybe someone a little smaller? Cleaner? No spectacles?
MR CARNEY:
Look(MR CARNEY's arm escapes the apartment, an extended finger taps the name tag on the door.) I am Walter Carney. This is my apartment. No one else is here, because if they were, they would be trespassing and I would have to kill them. Go away.
THE WARD:
So there's no Caney here? Candy...
MR CARNEY:
Kenny? Kenny Brodie? You're one of his idiot friends? He's in 712.
THE WARD:
712?
MR. CARNEY:
It's the number on his door, like the number on my door, only his is a different number on a different door because it's a different apartment. Get it?
THE WARD:
Yes, I think I do. Kenny Brodie lives in an apartment with the number 712 on the door.
MR CARNEY:
You're a quick one.
THE WARD:
Thanks. I'm sorry for bothering you.
MR CARNEY:
Don't worry about it. Believe it or not, you're not the first of his brain dead buddies to show up at my door accidentally.
THE WARD:
We're not really friends. I've actually never met him.
MR CARNEY:
That's great. Move your foot please.
THE WARD obliges MR CARNEY and removes his foot.
THE WARD:
I've got to admit I have been having quite a hard time navigating this place...
MR CARNEY slams the door in THE WARD's face, coming inches from crushing his nose.
THE WARD(to self):
Okay then.
INT. Outside apartment 712. Early Evening.
KENNY BRODIE stands statuesque outside his own apartment. His face is completely absent. Something brought his physical body here, but it's unsure of what to do next. The endless stillness of the scene is broken when the apartment door opens and CORRINE BRODIE steps out into the hall. She is dressed for a night out, heavy makeup and a sleek, short dress. She lets out a startled gasp, as KENNY is standing literally inches from her.
CORRINE BRODIE:
Whoa. Good timing, I was about to give up on you. What took you so long?
CORRINE attempts to take the sixty dollars KENNY is firmly holding in his hand, but his grip is too strong and her hand slips away empty. She tries a second time, with more force, and successfully pries the three twenty dollar bills from him.
CORRINE:
Come on, don't be like that. It's only sixty dollars.
Some more familiarities click inside KENNY BRODIE and he silently walks into the apartment. CORRINE opens the door after him to finish the conversation.
CORRINE (with her head poking through the door.):
Seriously, Kenny, grow up. You can come with us if you want.
KENNY sits down on the living room couch and stares and the television's black screen.
CORRINE:
Whatever. If you see Mr. Mortensen tell him we're getting some of his mail. It's in the table drawer. Have a good night!
CORRINE slams the door and locks it.
CORRINE (to self):
What a baby.
INT. Oakdale apartment's hallway. Early Evening.
THE WARD follows the descending door numbers, searching for door 712. As he makes his way, he bumps shoulders with a frustrated CORRINE BRODIE walking the opposite direction and speaking rapidly into her phone.
THE WARD:
Excuse me.
CORRINE gives a hand motion to signal everything is fine and continues down the hallway on her phone.
CORRINE:
No, he didn't say anything the whole time. Okay, I'll be down in a couple minutes.
THE WARD turns the hall corner and sees door 712. Assuming it's locked, he tries to open the handle with less aggression than before. When it does prove locked, THE WARD starts to rap his fist against the door.
THE WARD:
Hello? Kenny? Hey, I was hoping to talk to you for a little while. I know you're probably feeling a little strange, maybe scared, but I really think I can help you.
INT. The Brodie Apartment. Early Evening.
KENNY BRODIE sits perfectly still on the couch, the sun has sunk and the apartment is an array of grays and blacks leaking through the window. THE WARD's knocking from the outside can be heard, distant and muffled to KENNY BRODIE's ear.
THE WARD(through the door):
Kenny, you don't know me but I'm a friend. I can fix this. You just got to let me in.
More familiarities click inside the brain of KENNY BRODIE. He reaches forward and pulls his video game controller from the table in front of him. Holding it in the meat of his hands as if he was playing, a word softly spills from his lips.
KENNY BRODIE:
Games.
INT. Oakdale Apartment's hallway. Early Evening.
THE WARD knocks on the door of apartment 712 with a little more alacrity. He leans his body against the affronting obstacle.
THE WARD:
Come on Kenny, open the door. The longer we wait the worse it's going to get.
THE WARD begins to slap at the door with his palms. The heavy thuds echoing down the hall.
THE WARD:
It's really fun out here, Kenny. It's a festival. There's games of chance, and spilling steins of ale, and attractive females with expansive bosoms and strong steeds for sale!
The apartment door behind KENNY BRODIE opens and A LITTLE OLD LADY, female and mid eighties, pokes her head through. Her face is genial but ravaged with time, speckled with age spots under a thin white mop of hair.
LITTLE OLD LADY:
He's probably not home, young man.
THE WARD:
Huh, I suppose...
LITTLE OLD LADY:
Please keep it down.
The LITTLE OLD LADY closes her door and vacates the conversation.
THE WARD (to self):
I guess I'll just wait for him to come back then.
THE WARD takes a seat on the floor, his face directed towards door 712 and his back propped against the wall opposite. Feeling quite fatigued after a long day, he leans his head back and falls asleep.
INT. Oakdale Apartment's seventh floor hall. Late Evening/early morning.
The last hours of one day have faded and the new hours of the next have sprung and CORRINE BRODIE wanders her home halls, a slight sway to her step. Her sparkling evening attire has dimmed after a long night on the town, her hair spills in loose jumbles around her face. Her keys jingle as she blindly fingers for the one she needs. She notices THE WARD sleeping in the hall across from her door, but ignores him with a drunken indifference. After two failed attempts, CORRINE slides her door key into place and turns the lock. She enters with an uncoordinated lunge and slams the door emphatically behind her. THE WARD startles with the noise and leaps to his feet, looking around the hall disoriented.
THE WARD:
Must have fallen asleep.
THE WARD starts knocking on the door, more exploratory than demanding, not really expecting a response. There isn't one; THE WARD stretches and yawns. His arms are still extended above his head when the door opens, a disheveled intoxicated CORRINE BRODIE revealed.
CORRINE:
What?
THE WARD:
Where's Kenny Brodie?
CORRINE:
I don't know, in bed probably.
THE WARD:
Oh, great. Can I come in? I need to talk to him.
THE WARD attempts to enter the Brodie apartment, sliding between CORRINE and the door frame. CORRINE sees this maneuver and counters by stepping forward, closing the gap and leaving THE WARD standing uncomfortably close to her.
CORRINE:
No.
THE WARD:
Okay. Can you get him then?
CORRINE:
No. He's sleeping. Look, I don't know what lame shooting tournament you guys were supposed to have, but I guess he's out.
THE WARD:
That's so weird. I was just sleeping.
CORRINE:
It's three in the morning. That's not weird at all.
THE WARD:
I guess not weird. More coincidental.
CORRINE:
Well, I'm sure he'd love to compare sleeping habits tomorrow, but for now we're calling it a night.
CORRINE begins to close the door, but THE WARD interjects.
THE WARD:
I don't think he can last that long.
CORRINE reopens the door looking far more concerned than before.
CORRINE:
What do you mean? Is he okay?
THE WARD:
I don't know...I don't think so. Have you noticed anything different about his behavior lately?
CORRINE:
He was really moody tonight. And quiet. Maybe lazier, although I don't know if that's even possible. Oh, God. He's not on drugs, is he?
THE WARD:
Maybe. But, I mean more beyond the realm of normalcy. Starting fires with his fingers, speaking to animals, disappearing, the like.
CORRINE (annoyed):
Do you live here?
THE WARD:
Oh, no. I don't really live anywhere at the moment.
CORRINE:
Who let you in?
THE WARD:
Some nice old man. Cloudy hair, little belly.
CORRINE:
Mr. Mortensen... look, I'm going to call the police if you don't get the hell out of here.
THE WARD:
The police?
CORRINE:
Yea, the police. Something tells me you're familiar with them.
THE WARD:
Actually, I seem to have inadvertently pulled a little information on the subject, but it's vague and makes little sense in this context. They're musicians correct?
CORRINE:
You could wait here and find out.
THE WARD:
You said that rather threateningly.
CORRINE:
I did.
THE WARD:
Okay, I'll be leaving then. If you do change your mind, if you need assistance, I'll be around.
CORRINE:
You'd better not be.
CORRINE slams the door in THE WARD's face. After a moment of recollection, he walks away from the Brodie's apartment without a clear destination. As he does, he passes the stair exit.
THE WARD:
Stairs?
THE WARD pushes himself through the one seemingly unlocked door in Oakdale.
INT. Oakdale stairwell. Early morning.
THE WARD beholds the stairwell with appreciation, his face illuminates as he bears witness to the scuffed descending cement with its chipped painted metal handrails.
THE WARD:
Oh, much better.
INT. The Brodie Apartment living room. Early Morning.
CORRINE BRODIE walks away from her violently slamming apartment door, irritated and exhausted. The sun is still hours away from making an appearance, and the apartment is a pit of dark. CORRINE BRODIE hiccups quietly as she wobbles towards her bedroom.
CORRINE BRODIE(to self):
I'm just going to let this shoeless hobo wander the hallways in the middle of the night. That senile old man is going to get the whole building robbed.
Well, that's all i got so far.
finished.
CORRINE BRODIE stumbles through the living room and into her bedroom, never taking notice of her brother sitting unwavering on the couch. KENNY BRODIE stares with watery, unblinking eyes at the dormant television screen. His tongue slips across his mouth, moistening his lips, as his fingers slowly tap the buttons of the controller in his hand.
KENNY:
Games are fun.
With a slow smoothness, consistent like dripping molasses, Kenny raises from his chair and walks towards the apartment door. Absently, he twists its handle and pushes just hard enough to force the door to swing softly into the hallway. Kenny disappears into the hallway light, leaving the door wide open behind him.
EXT. The Oakdale Apartment Parking Lot. Early Morning.
Thin clouds of condensation leave his mouth as THE WARD paces the Oakdale's parking lot, a simple asphalt extension from the building's back exit. He moves back and forth between two phosphorous lights pathetically attempting to illuminate the parked cars beneath them. THE WARD stops and lifts his arms over his head in frustration, a thick plume escaping as he exhales deeply. After a second of reflection, he brings his arms down and holds them fully extended from his chest with his palms up and facing the complex as if the building was a fire warming his hands.
THE WARD:
I know you're in there, I can feel you. But, where? Around which corner do you wait? Behind which door do you hide? Time is evaporating and the window to save you is closing. Where are you, Kenny Brodie?
The Oakdale's back door explodes open, slamming against the brick wall it's attached to with a crack that echoes off hollow cars and cold cement. Emerging from the doorway, KENNY BRODIE marches into the parking lot. THE WARD smirks in disbelief, he drops his arms and jogs enthusiastically towards KENNY BRODIE.
THE WARD(as he closes the gap):
Kenny?! Kenny Brodie? You have to listen to me. You're in a lot of trouble.
THE WARD reaches KENNY BRODIE. As he does, KENNY's abandoned eyes momentarily electrify like a blown fuse. He turns to THE WARD, looks him in the face, and presses a button on the controller he is holding.
KENNY BRODIE:
Pause.
THE WARD:
Pause?
KENNY BRODIE cackles softly and continues his steady trot through the parking lot.
THE WARD:
Kenny, this is very serious. You're infected.
THE WARD tries to follow KENNY BRODIE through the parking lot, but finds his limbs are no longer responsive. His legs remain cemented beneath him like street fixtures, his arms hang loose and numb like windless sails.
THE WARD:
What's this?
THE WARD turns his only functioning appendage, his head, and watches KENNY BRODIE disintegrate into the inky night.
THE WARD:
Kenny! Kenny! Fight it, Kenny! Come back here!
THE WARD accepts KENNY BRODIE isn't coming back and sighs.
THE WARD:
Well, this has never happened before. My limbs have mysteriously and instantaneously stopped functioning.
THE WARD tries to force himself to move, his face strains and his head bobs wildly, while the rest of his body remains static. After a few moments, THE WARD exhausts himself and gives up.
THE WARD:
This is not good. Not good at all.
Ext. City street. Early Morning.
BEN, early twenties and male, and ERIC, early twenties and male, walk unevenly down a dark and simmering city street. They are obviously putting the finishing touches on a long night on the town, both are holding foil wrapped burritos which they chew lazily with open mouths and half massed eyes.
BEN:
That burrito's awesome, isn't it?
ERIC:
I can't believe you.
BEN(rolls eyes in drunken exaggeration):
Oh, come on.
ERIC:
I told you I liked her. You know, that I was trying to...
BEN (jokingly):
Woo her?
ERIC:
Yes, actually. I was trying to woo her. I've been flirting with her like everyday at work and now it's going to be weird. What am I going to say when I see her? How does my roommate's mouth taste?
BEN laughs at ERIC.
BEN:
Why would you ask her that?
ERIC:
Shut up. This sucks. I can't even talk to her now, she'll probably just ask a bunch of questions about you. Work sucks now.
BEN:
You hate your job anyways.
ERIC:
Yea, well now it's worse. Thanks.
BEN and ERIC walk silently for a few seconds.
BEN:
Look, I'm sorry. You're right. It was a jerk move. If you want, I won't call her. I'll completely ignore her.
ERIC:
Don't do that.
BEN:
I'm glad to hear you say that. It was a completely empty promise.
ERIC pushes BEN in the shoulder which causes BEN to loose his footing and stumble a little bit.
BEN (in mock anger):
Hey! Settle down over there and eat the burrito I bought you.
ERIC takes another large bite of his burrito, hints of pleasure on his face as he does.
BEN:
It's good, right?
ERIC:
This is the best burrito I've ever had.
BEN:
And it's open twenty four hours. I love that place. I'm thinking of moving in there if things don't work out between us.
Following behind BEN and ERIC is KENNY BRODIE. Even at his steady zombie pace, KENNY is able to make ground on the intoxicated wandering totter of the two in front of him. As with his interaction with THE WARD, KENNY's dull eyes illuminate for a second.
KENNY:
Round one. Fight!
KENNY begins to push buttons on his controller, as he does BEN turns to ERIC and roundhouse kicks ERIC's burrito out of his hand.
ERIC:
Whoa! What was that for?! Now, you owe me another burrito.
BEN drops to a knee next to the fallen burrito and begins to pummel it into the sidewalk cement with a closed fist.
ERIC:
I don't think I'm going out with you anymore, man. You're kind of a nasty drunk. You need help.
BEN stops punching the burrito, which was flatten to the ground long ago, and looks to ERIC.
BEN:
Shoryuken!
BEN flies into the air with an extended fist above his head. His fist connects with ERIC's chin and sends him spilling to the ground where he lays unconscious. After a considerable leap, BEN lands on the ground and holds his hands in front of him. He shifts his weight from foot to foot like a waiting Street Fighter character.
KENNY:
You lose.
Ext. Oakdale Apartment parking lot. Early Morning.
THE WARD whistles to himself as he stands motionless in the parking lot. The tune is unidentifiable and wandering as if he is making it up as he goes along. His eyes have the glaze of boredom that accompanies stagnation. A police car enters the parking lot behind THE WARD, its lights quickly illuminate and its warning siren chirps just before OFFICER NAISMITH, early thirties black male, leaves the vehicle. THE WARD tries to see the commotion behind him but is unable to turn his head that far.
OFFICER NAISMITH:
Evening. Mind if I ask you what you're doing out here so late?
THE WARD:
Nothing. Absolutely nothing at all.
OFFICER NAISMITH, finding it strange THE WARD didn't turn to address him, stands next to THE WARD. He shines his flashlight off into the general direction THE WARD is forced to stare in.
OFFICER NAISMITH(curious):
What are you looking at?
THE WARD:
Same thing you are. A building, some trees, couple trash cans...
OFFICER NAISMITH(cutting THE WARD off):
Okay then. We've had a complaint about you standing out here in the parking lot. You're making your neighbors nervous. Why don't you head back inside so they can get some sleep?
THE WARD:
I can't.
OFFICER NAISMITH:
You can't?
THE WARD:
No, I can't. And even if I could, I don't think I'd be welcome.
OFFICER NAISMITH:
Why's that?
THE WARD:
I was asked to leave.
OFFICER NAISMITH:
You were asked to leave?
THE WARD:
Well demanded really. Rather rudely too.
OFFICER NAISMITH's eyebrow raises quizzically. He shines his flashlight at THE WARD, who squeezes his face behind his sunglasses unable to shield his eyes with his hands.
OFFICER NAISMITH:
Have you been drinking tonight?
THE WARD(squinting):
No, and actually I'm quite thirsty. So you can see how frustrating this is.
OFFICER NAISMITH leans in towards THE WARD's face and deeply inhales the stationary man's breath through his nose. Smelling nothing, he continues.
OFFICER NAISMITH:
Right, well, the parking lot is still a part of the property. So, if you were asked to leave the premises, you can't just stand here. You're going to have to go home.
THE WARD:
I wish I could, but I can't.
OFFICER NAISMITH relaxes his posture slightly as he comes to a realization.
OFFICER NAISMITH:
Uh huh, I think I see what's going on here.
THR WARD:
Really? Because I am completely in the dark.
OFFICER NAISMITH:
Look, a lot of times these things just need some cooling off. You go home and come back the next day and everything is fine. You know, sleep it off. Let her miss you a little bit. It's hard, but really nine out of ten, it works out fine. Like nothing ever happened.
THE WARD:
I don't know what you're talking about
OFFICER NAISMITH:
Well, with these domestic issues. Relationships can be tricky. Sometimes the best approach is a hands off one.
THE WARD:
You don't know what you're talking about.
OFFICER NAISMITH(irritated):
Regardless, you've now been asked to leave by the police. So you can either leave on your own or you can leave with me. I think the right choice is a pretty simple one.
THE WARD:
You're in the police?
OFFICER NAISMITH points to his uniform in disbelief.
OFFICER NAISMITH:
Yes.
THE WARD:
But they're British...and Caucasian.
OFFICER NAISMITH agitates quickly. He aggressively rips his handcuffs from his uniform.
OFFICER NAISMITH:
Alright, I think that's about enough of this. Put your hands behind your back. You have the right to remain silent...
THE WARD:
I can't!
Further irritated, OFFICER NAISMITH grabs THE WARD's wrist attempting to handcuff him, but when he presses his fingers against his skin, his face goes void and his body goes limp. The handcuffs fall from his hands and clatter on the ground. The connection is quickly broken though, as THE WARD stumbles forward, just catching his balance before hitting the ground.
THE WARD:
Hey, you unpaused me!
OFFICER NAISMITH (dazed):
...huh?
THE WARD:
It's nothing. Don't worry about it.
OFFICER NAISMITH:
What is going on?...
OFFICER NAISMITH see his handcuffs on the ground. He picks them up with ginger care, and stares at THE WARD questioningly as he tries to piece together what is happening.
OFFICER NAISMITH (more coherently):
What are you doing out here?
THE WARD:
Just, uh, taking a walk...
OFFICER NAISMITH shakes his head clearing the cobwebs from it.
OFFICER NAISMITH:
Well, we've had complaints about you standing around suspiciously out here.
THE WARD:
Oh, really? I'm sorry. I was just about to head inside anyways...
OFFICER NAISMITH:
I think maybe you should stay out here and answer a few questions.
THE WARD:
Taylor? Taylor Naismith?
OFFICER NAISMITH:
Yea? I'm Officer Taylor Naismith.
THE WARD:
No way! It's me.
OFFICER NAISMITH looks discerningly at THE WARD, unable to pinpoint where he might know him from.
OFFICER NAISMITH:
I don't...
THE WARD:
Jeffrey Dosier. Eric Dosier's little brother.
The name sounds familiar to OFFICER NAISMITH, he fumbles it around his mouth as he attempts to conjure up a face.
OFFICER NAISMITH:
Eric Dosier....Dosier...
THE WARD:
Don't tell me you've forgotten your fullback. Come on, the guy who paved your way to a single season class 2A rushing record in ninety eight.
OFFICER NAISMITH face alights with an electric smile and wide glimmering eyes.
OFFICER NAISMITH:
Bull! Oh, Bull. How is he doing?
THE WARD:
He's good. He sells insurance in the west suburbs.
OFFICER NAISMITH:
Insurance, huh? Small world. Bull Dosier...
THE WARD:
Yea, mostly auto I think.
OFFICER NAISMITH:
I haven't seen that guy in years...
OFFICER NAISMITH's radio cackles unintelligibly. OFFICER NAISMITH pulls the mouthpiece from his belt and responds to the call. He sighs as he clips the mouthpiece back to his belt.
OFFICER NAISMITH:
I've gotta to go. There's a burglar alarm going off about three blocks north of here. It's probably nothing but, you know...
OFFICER NAISMITH pulls a pad from his front chest pocket and scribbles something on it before hastily handing it to THE WARD.
OFFICER NAISMITH:
Here. Next time you see your brother give him my number and tell him to call me. We should get a drink or something.
OFFICER NAISMITH turns towards his car before quickly turning back to THE WARD.
OFFICER NAISMITH:
And you probably shouldn't wear the glasses at night. It makes you look like you're drunk or on drugs or something.
THE WARD:
No problem.
OFFICER NAISMITH(to self):
Bull Dosier. Wild.
OFFICER NAISMITH jogs back to his vehicle and swiftly jumps in. His lights and sirens burst into full effect before the police car peels out of the parking lot and races out of sight. THE WARD looks at the piece of paper in his hand, indifferently he crumples into a wad and shoves it into his sweatshirt pocket.
THE WARD:
Okay. Let's try this again, Kenny Brodie.
THE WARD turns left down the back alley behind the Oakdale apartments, but after only a few steps he stops abruptly and turns one hundred eighty degrees. He begins to walk the other direction down the alley. Again, after only a few steps he stops. Looking slightly lost, THE WARD rubs his hands together before opening his palms to the open air, trying to feel KENNY BRODIE as he had done earlier in the parking lot. He drops his hands in failure.
THE WARD:
You'll probably return at some point. So, I guess I'll just wait here.
EXT. Park. Morning
A stray cat sits atop a park tree branch stretching its sinewy legs as it struts across the branch's length. The sun is awakened and shines low through the greenery of the horizon. Beneath the tree, KENNY BRODIE sits next to a HOMELESS MAN on a park bench. The HOMELESS MAN sprawls across his own disarray and filth. KENNY BRODIE lightly fingers the joystick of the controller he holds.
KENNY BRODIE:
A world of lemmings. Numb and broken; silent and still. Empty souls waiting for my guidance to give them purpose.
The cat's body falls past KENNY BRODIES face with a shrill shriek before dully hitting the ground with a thud. The HOMELESS MAN lifts his head to see the noise and annoyed turns himself over, face towards the bench's back, before going back to his hungover slumber.
KENNY BRODIE:
My world of lemmings.
EXT. Oakdale parking lot. Morning.
KENNY BRODIE returns to his apartment parking lot. His gait is far more coordinated and purposed, as if walking were an art he recently mastered, but his eyes are still distant and unobserving. THE WARD rests on his back between two of the parking lot's dormant vehicles. As KENNY BRODIE passes in front of THE WARD, THE WARD's torso flies upright. THE WARD opens his mouth to speak, but thinks better of it, silently watching KENNY BRODIE pass. Slowly, he rises to his feet, being careful to sheild himself from sight behind the automobiles. Keeping a fair distance, he follows KENNY BRODIE towards the apartment's entrance.
INT. Oakdale Apartments Seventh Floor. Morning.
KENNY BRODIE walks with even focus down the Seventh floor hallway. THE WARD tiptoes behind him, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. KENNY stops at his aparment door and spins on his right ankle, turning the ninety degrees to face the door on a dime. THE WARD reacts to the flamboyant maneuver by aggresively and intensely inspecting the wall next to him. He runs a single finger a foot length across it.
THE WARD(mumbling to self):
Great...craftsmanship.
KENNY pays no mind to THE WARD's peculiar behavior and enters the apartment with great flourish, slamming the door behind him. THE WARD runs up to the door after him and places his ear against the cold finished wood to eavesdrop.
INT. The Brodie Apartment. Morning.
CORRINE BRODIE sits on the living room couch, the fabric of her pajamas barely visible through the blanket cocoon she has formed around herself. The television is on, consistently droning in the background. Her hair is pulled into a greasy tangled ball above her head, her eyes are bloodshot and darkened. Irate, she throws an empty water bottle at her brother.
CORRINE BRODIE:
Stop slamming the doors.
KENNY BRODIE scoffs condescendingly.
KENNY BRODIE:
Did you think that would hurt me? Am empty bottle?
CORRINE BRODIE:
Whatever, Kenny. Just shut up.
KENNY BRODIE:
I don't think you're in a position to tell me what to do.
CORRINE BRODIE:
Oh, okay. I guess I forgot who I was talking to.
KENNY BRODIE stares silently at his sister, analyzing her scrupulously.
CORRINE BRODIE:
Where'd you go, anyways? I don't think I've ever seen you awake before three in the afternoon, much less outside interacting with the real world.
KENNY BRODIE:
You'd like that wouldn't you? To keep tabs on me.
CORRINE BRODIE:
Actually, I don't care and I regret asking. God please tell me you have work or something. I can't take this today.
KENNY BRODIE sees a handmade clay pokeball on the television stand. Enthusiastically, he grabs the ball and marvels at it, rolling it in his hands.
KENNY BRODIE:
Is this a pokeball?
CORRINE BRODIE:
Uh, yea I think so.
KENNY BRODIE:
It's so light.
KENNY BRODIE makes tossing motions with the ball in hand.
CORRINE BRODIE:
It's made of modelling clay.
KENNY BRODIE:
Why didn't you tell me I had this?
CORRINE BRODIE:
You made it, and not that long ago either. I mean, ten year olds don't even like pokemon anymore. You would think if you're not going to act like an adult, you would at least act pubescent. But, you don't.
KENNY BRODIE:
You're trying to thwart me. You're feigning ignorance in an attempt to impede my progress.
CORRINE BRODIE:
Look Kenny, I'm really hungover. Gary and I got into a huge fight last night. I just want to sit here and watch a stupid movie and not think about anything. So just do whatever you got to do and go away.
KENNY BRODIE begins to push buttons on his controller.
KENNY BRODIE:
It's a shame really. But, I can't just let such blatant insubordination go. This is just too important. I'm sure you understand.
CORRINE BRODIE:
Shut up, Kenny!
CORRINE stands to emphasize her demand but is struck with sudden pain that encompasses her body. She yelps, closes her arms around herself, and collapses back onto the furniture. Weakly, she tries to stand for a second time only to repeat the painful routine.
CORRINE BRODIE:
Kenny, there's something wrong. I think I need to go to the hospital.
KENNY BRODIE:
A doctor can't help you. Not unless he knows PSI Healing.
CORRINE BRODIE:
What?
KENNY BRODIE:
You've got heatstroke. Awful affliction, common in the Scabara Desert. Every move depletes a little of your health until...poof. Only cure is a wet towel.
CORRINE BRODIE:
I'm not kidding, Kenny. I'm in a lot of pain. I think I might have an ulcer or something. It really hurts.
KENNY BRODIE:
Come on. Heat stroke?...Scabara Desert?...PSI Healing?
CORRINE BRODIE pales further than she had been in her severely hungover state. Beads of sweat form across her brow.
CORRINE BRODIE:
What are you talking about? Just help me walk to your car.
KENNY BRODIE:
What am I talking about? Earthbound. It's a classic. Probably my favorite RPG of all time. Ness and his friends traveling through wacky landscapes and interacting with a cast of odd ball characters trying to defeat the evil Giygas. You've never played Earthbound?
CORRINE anemically attempts to push herself out of the couch, moving only slightly before conceding to a tremor of pain and crashing back into the cushions. KENNY BRODIE smirks at his anguished sibling. He casually tosses the clay pokeball into the air and catches it in an easy palm.
KENNY BRODIE:
I would stop moving around if I were you. You're just going to make it worse.
KENNY BRODIE opens the door. He starts to saunter through it.
CORRINE BRODIE:
Kenny, please. It really hurts. I need help...
KENNY BRODIE turns his head as he stand in the doorframe and addresses his sister.
KENNY BRODIE:
I can't, I have got to get going. Hope you saved recently, Corrine.
INT. Oakdale's seventh floor hallway. Early Morning.
KENNY BRODIE strolls out his aparment leaving the door wide open behind him. He tosses the clay pokeball to himself as he goes. From the other side of the open door, THE WARD peeks his head out. Being careful to stay hidden, he watches KENNY BRODIE leave. When he is sure KENNY BRODIE is gone, he races in to CORRINE BRODIE.
INT. The Brodie Apartment. Early Morning.
CORRINE BRODIE lays strewn across the couch, nearly incapacitated with pain. She hears THE WARD enter her apartment and tries to lift her head before the pain overcomes her. Beatened, she drops her head. THE WARD takes a knee next to the couch.
CORRINE BRODIE:
Kenny, please. I need help.
THE WARD:
Kenny left. I'm sorry. I should have done something, but I can't confront him directly. Not now. The Cept is too strong. I tried earlier and got stuck in the parking lot for hours. I couldn't risk that happening again.
CORRINE BRODIE:
It hurts to move. I can't even blink.
THE WARD:
He must have cast a spell on you. They can do that sometimes. Did he say anything? Give you any clues?
CORRINE BRODIE:
I don't know. He said I had heat stroke.
THE WARD:
Heat stroke? Did he say anything else? Anything that might...
CORRINE BRODIE:
It's fall in the midwest, I don't have heat stroke. I need to go to the hospital.
THE WARD:
Trust me, I can help you. Now did he say anything else? Any additional information at all?
CORRINE BRODIE:
Something about Earthbound...he was talking about his pokeball...he said the only cure was a wet towel...
THE WARD:
Perfect. Perfect. That's good. Kenny must still be in there. What is a tao well?
CORRINE BRODIE:
A towel? Seriously?
THE WARD:
Yes, what is it?
CORRINE BRODIE:
It's a piece of fabric you use for cleaning and drying things.
THE WARD:
Okay. Do you know where we can get one?
CORRINE BRODIE:
There's some in the bathroom.
THE WARD:
Okay.
THE WARD looks around the apartment, but doesn't go anywhere.
CORRINE BRODIE:
You know what a bathroom is, right?
THE WARD:
It seems like I do. Which room is your bath room?
CORRINE BRODIE:
It's the door to my left.
THE WARD flings his body into the bathroom, followed by a symphony of clicks, crashes and clattering as sundry bathroom essentials are presumably thrown recklessly about. CORRINE BRODIE begins to moan as the pain passes into the realm of unbearable. Her breath grows fainter, almost imperceptible.
CORRINE BRODIE:
Hurry, it hurts to breathe.
Washcloth held firmly in front of him, THE WARD comes catapulting out of the bathroom, tripping over the room's entryway and crashing into the back of the sofa CORRINE BRODIE's tortured body rests on. A lone towel wielding hand, the rest of his body still heaped on the floor, rises from the back of the couch and drops the towel softly onto CORRINE's face. She gives a relieved sigh as the water soaks into her skin. THE WARD stands and looks down at Corrine who mutters ecstatically to herself.
CORRINE BRODIE:
What took so long?
THE WARD:
The towel was easy to find, but you didn't tell me the water supply was covered.
CORRINE BRODIE:
Covered?...Is this from the toilet?
THE WARD:
I'm not sure.
CORRINE BRODIE:
You know what, I don't even care.
After a few pleasurable moments, CORRINE BRODIE sits up, letting the washcloth fall wetly to her lap. The gravity of the situation strikes her, and she begins to tremble.
CORRINE BRODIE:
What is going on? Who are you? I couldn't even move. My skin was cooking, boiling from the inside and you give me a towel. A wet towel and it goes away instantly.
CORRINE BRODIE stares at THE WARD, her face frantic in confusion. Her mouth slowly fidgets as it tries to form more questions.
THE WARD:
Look. I understand this has been a lot to take in. A lot of new information for you to digest, dissect, make a part of your conscience. But unfortunately, time is of the essence, so I need you to pull yourself together and come with me.
CORRINE BRODIE:
I am not going with you. I don't know what's going on, but I don't want anything to do with you.
THE WARD:
Like I said, the Cept in Kenny is too strong for me to take on directly. I'm going to need someone to help. And since you seem to be the person closest to Kenny, that someone is you. So, let's go!
THE WARD leads a confident one man march out the Brodie's apartment. CORRINE doesn't even watch him leave, shock usurping her facilities. A somber minute passes before THE WARD returns to the entry way.
THE WARD:
Let's go!
THE WARD pumps his arm optimistically out the door.
CORRINE BRODIE:
Kenny? Cept?
THE WARD:
Alright. I'm going to run through everything, but it's going to be very quick. So pay attention and don't ask any questions unless they are really, really good ones. Okay?
CORRINE BRODIE:
What?
THE WARD:
That's not a very good question. Let's try to keep them better than that.
EXT. Sidewalk outside the bank. Mid day.
KENNY BRODIE walks down the sidewalk with undefined purpose. His zombie trot has been completely replaced with a confident stride that almost assimilates him with the errand running city dwellers he finds himself surrounded by. As KENNY BRODIE passes the bank's entrance he collides with a BANK PATRON, early twenties and male, whose attentions are more focused on unraveling the paper cover of his quarter roll than on any obstructions blocking the building's exit. The impact shocks the roll of quarters from the BANK PATRON's hand, which explodes upon contact with the sidewalk. Cheerful metallic notes sing out with each ricochet as the sun reflecting currency bounds in all directions. The BANK PATRON immediately falls to his knees in an attempt to round as many quarters as he can before they are too scattered and lost for good. KENNY BRODIE watches the proceedings with interest but offers no assistance to the BANK PATRON.
BANK PATRON (still picking up quarters):
Oh, man. I'm sorry. Didn't even see you; I've been zoning out all day.
KENNY BRODIE:
That's a lot of coins.
BANK PATRON:
Laundry day, you know? There seems to be a couple by your feet there...
A couple quarters rest between the feet of KENNY BRODIE's stance, but one precocious coin actually rests on the toe of his left tennis shoe. The BANK PATRON lends KENNY BRODIE an awkward moment to respond, but it is not taken. The BANK PATRON stares quizzically at KENNY BRODIE as he slowly gathers the renegade money at his feet. With extreme caution he plucks the final coin from KENNY BRODIE's shoe.
KENNY BRODIE:
And you got all those coins from here? This building?
The BANK PATRON stands and slides the quarters he was able to collect into his pants pocket with a jingle.
BANK PATRON:
Yes, it's a bank. That's what you do at the bank.
KENNY BRODIE:
Wonderful. You've been great help, you can go now.
BANK PATRON:
Okay, man. Whatever.
The BANK PATRON, while still trying to look somewhat composed, quickly moves away from KENNY BRODIE. Every three or four steps he tosses back a nervous glance at the man who now triumphantly gleams at the corner bank.
KENNY BRODIE:
A whole building full of coins. It must be some sort of bonus level. If I were to scour every room, every corner, of this building I'd probably find millions of little coins. Using even the sternest of exchange rates, millions of coins should reward me hundreds of extra lives and immortality.
INT. BRODIE APT. Mid Day.
CORRINE BRODIE sits on the living room couch, her elbows resting on her knees and her face resting in her palms. Her eyes pass back and forth as they trace the nervous pace of THE WARD in front of her. After a few one hundred and eighty degree changes of direction THE WARD stops, turns toward CORRINE and opens his mouth to speak. He thinks better of it, and continues to march back and forth across the floor. CORRINE sighs heavily.
CORRINE:
None of this makes any sense. I must be dreaming...or dead.
THE WARD stops pacing and addresses CORRINE.
THE WARD:
You are neither dead, nor sleeping. You are alive and awake.
CORRINE:
Says the deranged homeless man who saved my life with a towel he wet in the toilet. Maybe I've lost it. Maybe the stress has finally pushed me over the edge and I've gone crazy.
THE WARD:
The first thing you must understand is this is the future.
CORRINE:
This is the future?
THE WARD:
Well, no. It's your present, but it's my future. Actually...I suppose it's now my present too, but it used to be my future. Because I am from the past. Not your past but THE past. Way before you, or your brother, or the bean....
CORRINE:
What?
THE WARD:
Yes, I am sort of rambling...just forget all that.
CORRINE:
Okay.
THE WARD:
Your questions are getting much better by the way.
CORRINE:
Thanks?
THE WARD:
May have spoken a little prematurely...
CORRINE:
Wow...
THE WARD:
A long time ago, before you could possibly fathom, human beings were the greatest of creatures in known existence. Their power was limitless. This world was malleable to the wills of their dreams. Mountains could be formed with a wave of their left hand, valleys with their right. Stars could be aligned to form messages, or extinguished for a better night sleep. They were masters of all that was and all that could ever be. They ruled graciously and we assisted them the best we could.
CORRINE:
We? You're not human?
THE WARD:
No, I am a Ward.
CORRINE nods along in feigned agreement with the preaching WARD.
CORRINE:
I see, a Ward.
THE WARD:
Yes, the Wards; a race of beings left to the care of the humans. We would do our best to support the humans in their affairs. Whatever they asked for, whatever we could do, we did.
CORRINE:
If they could make mountains and stuff, then why would they need your help?
THE WARD:
That's just the way it was designed. Catering to the human population gave us purpose, it was why we were. But for the humans...I suppose caring for something lesser than yourself, nurturing and protecting them, would teach you compassion. It would keep you kind. I think it would be important to keep the omnipotent kind, grounded. Additionally, we had our greater purpose.
CORRINE:
Your greater purpose?
THE WARD:
Yes, but I'll be there soon enough. We lived like this, Wards and Humans, for generations. It was beautiful, perfection- harmonious coexistence for years upon years and then-bang- it ended. So fast, just like that. Our utopia had spoiled, rotted by an unseen evil.
THE WARD stops and CORRINE raises her eyebrow in response.
CORRINE:
Evil, huh?
THE WARD:
The worst kind: The Cept.
CORRINE:
And they are?
THE WARD:
The Cept? Right. You wouldn't know who the Cept are, would you? What blessed lives you have been living. The Cept are the fabric of evil. They are ethereal parasites, floating imperceptibly until the opportunity to infiltrate a corporeal entity arises. Bacteria, plants, cats, ape; all living organisms were at risk to the Cept, but their favorite target was human. After the initial infection, it would only take a few hours before the Cept had complete control of the human's body. But that wasn't enough. They wanted control of everything: land, resources, Wards, even Humans. Wars began to break out between afflicted Humans, devastating, horrific wars that demolished landscapes and killed thousands. Something needed to be done before all was lost forever.
CORRINE (humoring):
Obviously.
THE WARD:
Obvious, but a difficult thing none the less for the only way to stop the Cept was to change the human population, our wardens, irrevocably. We worked quickly, gathering all healthy humans and reworking the map of their brains; twisting and folding it, convoluting it beyond recognition, creating a cerebral labyrinth to impede the Cept. When someone was infected, the Cept would try to unravel this maze, leaving them preoccupied and vulnerable, allowing us the time to pull them from their hosts...
CORRINE:
Wouldn't the Cept just take over you? And I thought the humans had all the special powers.
THE WARD:
The Wards were always able to manipulate the brains of humans. It was our greater purpose and perhaps the reason we were immune to the Cept.
CORRINE:
Immunity, that's convenient.
THE WARD:
Yes, it was. As I was saying, during the Cept's vulnerable moments, we were able to pull them from their hosts and move them to more benign organisms, potatoes, which we buried in a sealed metal container deep within the earth. Given enough time, even strong Cept hosts would grow old and weak. They would move onto younger hosts, get bogged down in our puzzle, and be captured and transferred to potatoes. It was an arduous process, but we were able to successfully bury the last of the great evil in harmless tubers deep within the shell of the Earth.
CORRINE:
You transferred the Cept into potatoes and buried them?
THE WARD:
Yes, it sounds so silly now. We should have known they would eventually work their way out; that eventually the seal would break. But, it seemed the best option at the time. We had so many potatoes.
CORRINE:
It does sound silly.
THE WARD:
Unfortunately, the process left the humans at only a percentage of their former glory. They were no longer the great masters we had served so dutifully and we no longer had a reason to be. So as a race, we went into hibernation and left the planet to you.
CORRINE:
Wow.
THE WARD:
I know.
CORRINE:
That is definitely one elaborate schizophrenic delusion you've got there. Maybe with some counseling and a little medication you can organize it into a really terrific novel one day. But, now you need to leave. I don't know who you are, or what's going on with Kenny, but you need to go. I can't deal with this.
CORRINE begins to push a resistant WARD out of her apartment.
THE WARD:
As hard as it might be to believe, I assure you that it is all true.
CORRINE:
No more. Go.
THE WARD:
I need your help, Corrine. The only chance I have of saving your brother and the peace of your world is if you do this with me.
CORRINE:
Don't care. Shut up.
THE WARD digs his feet into the ground and makes a stand against CORRINE's shoves.
THE WARD:
This is serious. We don't have much time and if we wait any longer Kenny will be lost forever. I won't be able to save him. Do you get it?
CORRINE:
Out!
CORRINE tries to give THE WARD one final push, but THE WARD sidesteps her and places his hand on her head. There is a mutual moment of inactivity before CORRINE stumbles into the doorframe.
CORRINE:
What are you doing? Don't touch me.
THE WARD:
You are Corrine Victoria Brodie. You were born September twelfth and are twenty six years old...
CORRINE:
How do you? Have you been spying on me?
THE WARD:
Something more secret...Um, in your Junior year at Western you dated a boy named Colin. You broke up with him because he smoked in your bathroom, and fed your neighbor's dog a handful of Seagram's, and shamelessly hit on your roommate in front of you.
CORRINE:
Is this about Colin? Are you his friend?
THE WARD:
No, I've never met him. I pulled it from your head.
CORRINE:
Oh, right. Because you're a magical Ward! Get out.
CORRINE puts her weight behind her and shoves THE WARD through the doorframe. The door flies shut behind him.
THE WARD (into the closed door):
You were raised by Flora, your single mother. She was a good mother and you loved her, but she worked a lot. You were often left alone with your little brother, Kenny, while she pulled double shifts and weekends. When your mother worked, you would take care of him. You would make his lunch, read him stories, and play games with him. Anything he wanted you did. You were a great sister, but maybe not the best parent. And now he's a lazy, slightly selfish, underachieving man child and you think it's your fault. You want to help him become an adult but you're afraid. Afraid he can't do it. Afraid you might lose him. And you can't risk that, losing Spaghetti Kenny.
The door slowly opens and CORRINE appears through the crack.
CORRINE:
How do you know that?
THE WARD:
About your mom and all that? It wasn't that deep, I just...
CORRINE:
Spaghetti Kenny. How did you know that?
THE WARD:
I pulled it from your head. You call him that, Spaghetti Kenny. I didn't catch why. I assume it has something to do with the noodle dish that people eat sometimes.
CORRINE:
When he was seven I farted during dinner. He laughed so hard he threw up. We were eating spaghetti.
THE WARD:
That makes sense.
CORRINE:
He called me Stinky Corrine and I called him Spaghetti Kenny. I haven't called him that in fifteen years. You can't know that.
THE WARD:
Exactly. I can't know that. Only Kenny and you know that, I just pulled the memory from your head.
CORRINE:
You pulled it from my head? Like read my mind?
THE WARD:
Well, yea...I guess so.
CORRINE:
What am I talking about? This is impossible.
THE WARD:
It's not just possible, it's happening right now. Don't you see? Your greatest fear, your nightmare, it's about to come true unless we stop it. You're going to lose him forever. He'll be ripped away from you right in front of your face. Will you help me save your brother?
CORRINE pauses thoughtfully before responding with a sigh.
CORRINE:
Yes.
THE WARD:
Perfect!
CORRINE:
This is insane.
THE WARD:
I suppose it is.
INT. Bank. Midday.
Four patrons line up in front of the bank counter waiting for the TELLER, female and early thirties, to leisurely work her way through to them. KENNY BRODIE enters the bank doors and pushes his way through the line until he is directly in front of the teller. He knocks his fist against the linoleum countertop to get the TELLER's attention. The TELLER looks at KENNY BRODIE perplexingly, before looking past him to the more familiar faces behind him.
TELLER:
Sir, you have to wait in line. These people were first.
KENNY BRODIE:
Oh, it's okay. They don't mind.
KENNY BRODIE turns to the handful of bank customers.
KENNY BRODIE:
Do you?
The bank patrons shake their heads in hushed unison. KENNY turns back to the teller.
KENNY:
See? Everything is fine.
TELLER:
Uh...okay then, what can I do for you?
KENNY:
Precisely. I want all your coins. Gold, silver, even bronze- I don't care. I want them all. Bring them to me.
The TELLER dazedly begins to open the register drawers, pulling out tubes of quarters and dimes, nickels and pennies and tossing them into the middle of the bank lobby. KENNY BRODIE again addresses the other people in the bank.
KENNY:
And if any of you have some coins on you, you can go ahead and give me those too.
A NEW PATRON, thirties and male, enters the bank. Seeing the focus being centered on one man and money being thrown towards him, he becomes alarmed.
NEW PATRON:
Is this a robbery?
KENNY:
Sure, why not. Give me all your coins. And when you're done with that, keep an eye on that door. Don't let anyone in. Collect all the coins you can from the people outside, but don't let them in.
EXT. Street. Day
THE WARD and CORRINE walk somewhat directionless down a Chicago street. THE WARD's eyes dart from person to thing to building looking for some unknown sign. The two talk as the walk.
CORRINE:
So, what exactly do you need me for? You're the one with all the super powers; can't you just feel him or something and take the thing out of his head?
THE WARD:
I need you for two reasons. First, I need you to find your brother.
CORRINE:
He didn't say anything about where he was going...
THE WARD:
No, he wouldn't have. But you know your brother, and therefore, you know the Cept.
CORRINE:
I don't know anything about the Cept.
THE WARD:
But you do. You see, it can be a very confusing thing for the Cept to navigate this world. They depend greatly on the mind of their host. They draw on it like a well, or better yet, a library. They reference and study it. If Kenny likes cheese, and swimming and the color black, the Cept will like cheese, swimming and black things. His affinities and fears, his understandings and misconceptions, will be the Cept's. Here, it's like these sunglasses...
The WARD takes off his sunglasses and places them on Corrine's face.
THE WARD:
When you look through them you see the same world everyone else does, only in a darker shade. This is how the Cept is seeing the world, only in a shade of Kenny.
CORRINE takes the glasses off and puts them back on THE WARD's head.
CORRINE:
Keep your glasses. They're all greasy.
THE WARD:
Sorry, my face sweats more than it used to. As I was saying, because you know Kenny, you indirectly know the Cept.
CORRINE:
Okay, so what's the other thing?
THE WARD:
Pardon?
CORRINE:
The second reason you need me.
THE WARD:
Well, once we find Kenny I can't just walk up to him, slap him on the forehead, and pull the Cept out just like that. It has too strong a grip on him now. If we're going to be successful, I'm going to need you to beckon to your brother. Call to him. Get him to take just a fraction of his self back so I can get a foothold. In that moment, the Cept will be vulnerable and I should be able to extract it and force it into some smaller more benign living organism.
CORRINE:
Like a potato.
THE WARD:
Oh, we should have grabbed some potatoes.
CORRINE:
It really doesn't matter; I have no idea where Kenny is.
THE WARD:
Just think about it, where would Kenny go if he wanted complete control of everything? Where would he start?
CORRINE:
I don't think Kenny is really that motivated.
THE WARD:
Well, what does he like to do? Where is his favorite place to go? Maybe he went somewhere familiar.
CORRINE:
He likes sitting around doing nothing and playing video games. Maybe he went to one of those used games stores. Or back to bed.
THE WARD:
I don't think he would have gone back to bed, what are video games?
THE WARD and CORRINE approach the NEW PATRON as he stands guard in front of the bank. The NEW PATRON aggressively grabs THE WARD by his sweatshirt.
NEW PATRON:
Give me your change. It's needed inside.
CORRINE:
Are you serious?
NEW PATRON:
You too, now!
THE WARD:
I can't give you change. It's not a tangible thing, the difference in something over time. You have to make it yourself.
CORRINE pulls some loose change from her pants and throws it at the NEW PATRON.
CORRINE:
This is ridiculous.
The NEW PATRON releases THE WARD and frantically gathers the coins.
NEW PARTON:
Is this all?
CORRINE:
Yea.
NEW PATRON:
It'll have to do. Get out of here. Scram.
CORRINE and THE WARD quickly remove themselves from the NEW PATRON.
CORRINE:
That's unbelievable, threatening us for thirty five cents.
THE WARD:
That was unusual? What that guy did back there?
CORRINE:
I would say so. I mean, the bums can be kind of aggressive sometimes but they never grab you like that.
THE WARD starts back towards the NEW PARTON, CORRINE closely following.
CORRINE:
You're not going back there, are you? He's probably on something.
THE WARD reaches the NEW PATRON, and CORRINE stands safely behind him.
NEW PATRON:
Did you find more coins?
THE WARD:
What do you need those metal rounds for?
NEW PARTON:
The guy inside needs them, it's very important.
THE WARD:
Let me talk to him. Maybe I can help him.
THE WARD tries to walk through the door but the NEW PATRON impedes him.
THE WARD:
Come on, now. I'm just trying to help.
NEW PARTON:
No! Stay out here. If you don't have any more money, then just leave.
THE WARD:
We're not going anywhere and if you don't get out the...
CORRINE kicks the NEW PATRON in the groin and he topples over.
THE WARD:
Oh, well that was a little bit violent. Effective though.
CORRINE:
What? He wasn't going to help.
INT. Bank. Day
CORRINE and THE WARD walk into the bank and see KENNY BRODIE standing in the middle of the bank's lobby, atop a hill of shiny little coins. He grabs the money, lifting handfuls over his head, and letting them spill like rain over his face.
KENNY:
I can feel it already. I feel stronger.
KENNY addresses the group around him.
KENNY:
I need something to carry these in.
The bank patrons begin to scavenge for something that could transport the large volume of coins.
CORRINE:
Kenny! It's me, Corrine.
KENNY points furiously at the two new people who passed through his security.
KENNY:
What are they doing here? Who let them in?
THE WARD:
Cept, I'm going to give you one chance to leave this body peacefully...
KENNY:
Cept? I haven't heard that word in so long. Could we have a couple of Wards in our midst?
CORRINE:
That's right, you're outnumbered. And if you don't get out of his body right now we're going to shoot a telepathic message to all our brothers and sisters and bring a whole Ward army here to take you out.
KENNY:
Well, one Ward at least.
THE WARD (to CORRINE):
We can't do that. Shoot telepathic messages.
CORRINE:
No?
THE WARD:
No. (to Kenny)Cept, this is your last chance to relinquish your hold on that body without repercussion.
KENNY:
You Wards and your biased rectitude...
THE WARD:
That body doesn't belong to you.
KENNY:
Do you have any idea what it's like in our natural state? To know and think, but have no means to express yourself, to interact with the world around you? It's worse than living death; it's conscious nonexistence. It is hell. I won't go back. You can't make me go back. Pikachu, I chose you!
KENNY pulls his pokeball from his pocket and throws it across the bank lobby. It hits THE WARD in the middle of his forehead and bounces away.
THE WARD:
Ouch!
KENNY:
I knew it was too light. Who keeps an empty pokeball? No matter. Zerg rush!
THE WARD rubs at the welt developing on his forehead when he notices all the bank patrons turn and rush towards CORRINE and him.
BANK PATRONS:
Kekekekekekeke!
THE WARD:
Uh oh. Let's move.
THE WARD grabs CORRINE sleeve and drags her desperately to the open corner of the bank. Seeing no other outlet, they push themselves into the bathroom and lean their collective weight against the door.
INT. Bank bathroom. Day.
CORRINE and THE WARD brace themselves against the bathroom door, resisting the pulsing push of the patrons on the other side.
CORRINE:
This is ridiculous. He doesn't even recognize me. How do you know he's even in there still?
THE WARD:
Oh, he's definitely in there. If he wasn't in there protecting you, you'd be on the other side of this door. But, time is running out. We're going to have to get that Cept out, and get it out soon, or he could be lost forever.
CORRINE:
Well, what am I supposed to do?
THE WARD:
Talk to him.
CORRINE:
From here?
THE WARD:
It should work. You're just going to have to talk loudly.
CORRINE (into door):
Kenny, it's your sister, Corrine. I know we don't always get along great. We seem to argue a lot, and maybe some of that is my fault. But, you know, in my defense, you're kind of a slob. You never pick up after yourself, you just sort of leave your garbage all over the living room. And your hygiene, I've seen your toothbrush but I can't say I've actually seen you use it.
A violent surge threatens to knock the bathroom door off its hinges. THE WARD braces himself against the wall.
THE WARD:
Maybe you should try some more pleasant sentiments?
CORRINE (to WARD):
Right. Okay.
CORRINE (into door):
Kenny, I know sometimes I can make you feel like a burden living with me. Like I'm just fulfilling some undesirable sibling duty, biding my time until you decide to move out. But the truth is I like having you around. You drive me absolutely insane, but it's okay. It's almost charming. After a horrible day at work, I know I'll come home and you'll have some idiotic story to tell me and I'll laugh.
The pushing against the door subsides and THE WARD slowly transfers his weight back to his feet.
THE WARD:
It's working. Um, you should go out there. Look him in the eye.
CORRINE pushes her way through the bathroom door.
INT. Bank Lobby. Day.
CORRINE pushes past the statuesque bank patrons, keeping consistent eye contact with her brother as she makes her way towards him. KENNY's eyes follow her, his face inexorably void and motionless.
CORRINE:
Because that's the way you are, Kenny. You're always willing to listen to me, and talk to me, and give me your advice, your terrible awful advice. And it doesn't matter that it's awful, because you're there. You're always there for me and I'm going to cherish every day you choose to live with me because it's another day I get to spend with my little brother.
CORRINE reaches KENNY and stands in front of him with open arms.
CORRINE:
You're my Spaghetti Kenny, and I love you.
CORRINE wraps her arms around KENNY and squeezes as tightly as she can. THE WARD comes running in after CORRINE and slaps KENNY in the forehead.
KENNY (to Corrine):
Hey, Corrine...are we at the bank?
CORRINE:
Yes. I'm surprised you knew that. I was always under the impression you thought I was the bank.
THE WARD:
I've got it! I've got it!
THE WARD starts to flail his arms wildly about.
THE WARD:
Oh man, I need a potato.
THE WARD runs over to the bank's fish tank and throws his arms into the water.
THE WARD:
It's okay. I took care of it.
Bank patrons begin to mutter to themselves, rubbing their heads and giving confused looks around the room. THE WARD walks over to CORRINE and KENNY, the epicenter of the disarray.
THE WARD:
Thank you, Corrine. You've done a great service to your species.
KENNY:
Who is this guy?
CORRINE:
This is The Ward.
THE WARD:
Hello, Kenny.
KENNY:
The Ward? That's your name, the ward? What are you a professional wrestler?
THE WARD:
No. And that's not my name.
CORRINE:
What is your name?
THE WARD:
Tohamobofefegagolaletinobe...
CORRINE:
You're kidding.
THE WARD:
...lapoli. What? That's a great name.
CORRINE:
It's like ten minutes long.
THE WARD:
I wish. You see each successive generation of Ward is given his father's name with an additional syllable. I am a sixteenth generation Ward and therefore my name is sixteen syllables long. It's a source of great pride with my people.
CORRINE:
It's completely ridiculous.
KENNY:
I have no idea what you guys are talking about...Is that my pokeball?
KENNY picks up the clay pokeball that rests next to THE WARD.
THE WARD:
Yes, I've been meaning to discuss that with you. You said, and I quote, I choose you Pikachu and then you threw it at my face. Now, I'm pretty sure you had enough control at the time to prevent that...
KENNY:
I said I chose you, Pikachu?
THE WARD:
Yes, right before you threw it at my face. Now the important thing is not what you said, but what you did...
KENNY:
Why would I choose Pikachu?
THE WARD:
Why would you throw a ball at my face?
KENNY:
What?...I..Is anyone sort of hot?...
KENNY loses consciousness and falls to the floor. CORRINE rushes to help him.
CORRINE:
Oh my God. What's wrong with him?
THE WARD:
That happens sometimes when the Cept is pulled from people. They grow weak and faint. He'll be fine. Just needs some rest and ginger tea.
CORRINE:
Here, help me get him back to the apartment.
INT. BRODIE APT. Early Evening.
KENNY BRODIE lies on the couch sipping tea from a chipped saucer. A blanket rolls from his armpits down to his toes and spills over to the floor. Next to him on the couch, his sister sits looking at her brother with concern. Sitting with his legs crossed on the floor next to her, sits THE WARD. He holds a plastic bag filled with water and one lonely goldfish close to his face so he can follow its erratic swimming pattern.
KENNY:
You realize anyone else would have you committed?
CORRINE:
Yes.
KENNY:
I mean, as far as I can remember I've never met this guy before.
KENNY shrugs his shoulder towards THE WARD before taking another warm sip of tea. THE WARD waves his hand in response.
CORRINE:
Yes.
KENNY:
Hmm.
CORRINE:
Kenny, look, you don't have to believe me. I was just trying to explain why you don't recall the last couple days.
KENNY:
Oh, I believe you. And this is so awesome. All those comic books and video games, I never thought...And now look, we've got own ancient psychic guy to thwart some parasitic evil spirits and save the world. We're freaking superheroes.
THE WARD stands, shoving the plastic bag into his sweatshirt pocket.
THE WARD:
Actually, this is the end of the road for us. You guys are safe, healthy. What I need is for you to forget about all this and go back to your lives.
KENNY:
I don't want to go back to my life. My life is boring.
CORRINE:
Kenny, come on.
THE WARD:
Defending the defenseless from the evils of the Cept is the Wards' burden. I couldn't curse you with it.
KENNY:
You can't do this by yourself; you're all weird and stuff. No one's going to talk to you.
THE WARD leaves the apartment and shut the door gently behind him.
KENNY (to CORRINE):
He's too weird and freaky. People are never going to talk to him.
INT. The Oakdale Apartment hallway. Early Evening.
As THE WARD walks into the hallway he is spotted by MR. CARNEY. MR. CARNEY face turns to severe agitation at the sight of THE WARD and he stomps his feet angrily as he tries to chase him down.
MR. CARNEY:
Hey! Hey you! What are you doing hanging around in the halls and parking lot at night? What are you up to?
THE WARD:
Uh. Have we met?
THE WARD jumps back into the Brodies' apartment.
INT. THE BRODIES' APT. EARLY EVENING.
THE WARD flies back into the apartment to the elated cheers of KENNY BRODIE.
KENNY:
You've changed your mind!
THE WARD furiously locks the doors several locks.
THE WARD:
Changed my mind?
KENNY:
About us working together. You know, stopping the Cept.
THE WARD:
Oh. I'm not sure...
MR. CARNEY begins pounding his fists against the door.
THE WARD:
Actually, yes. I did. I changed my mind.
MR. CARNEY:
Listen you weasely little turd, get out here now. Kenny, if you're harboring some thieves in there...
CORRINE:
Is that Mr. Carney?
THE WARD:
No. I don't think so. Maybe we should just wait until he leaves.
done. you guys can just ignore this now.
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