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Name: Alan
Country: United States
State: California
Metro: Los Angeles
Gender: Male
Interests: Dinosaurs, Adventure, American Paleontology 1875-1910, Banksy, Big Cats, Birds of Prey, Blind Bluesmen, Matthew Brady, Dishwasher Sounds, Documentary Filmmaking, Andy Goldsworthy, Long Lenses, Mixing Sports Metaphors, Mount Everest, Nachos, James Nachtwey, Non Sequiturs, Orange Juice, Penguins, Photography, Pie, Pirates, Propaganda, Ravens, Sandwiches, John Steinbeck, Thunderstorms, Title Cards
Expertise: Screenwriting
Industry: Entertainment
Message: message meEmail: email me
Member Since:
1/14/2003
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| Once upon a time, there was a happy little mosquito named Winnifred. She lived outside a house full of people, and made her meals from the delicious juice in their arms and legs.
The man of the house was grumpy and quick to swat at Winnifred with the newspaper. Winnifred was frightened of him, and did not like the smoke from his cigarettes.
But little Billy was small and good-natured, and it made Wilfred happy to be around him. She especially liked the way he always put spots of cream on his skin, as if to protect her favorite feeding spots from other hungry mosquitos.
Billy was Winnifred's favorite friend, and she was sure to visit him every day.
One day, Winnifred buzzed through the window ready for breakfast, only to find that Billy was still in bed. His face was sweaty, and he shivered under the covers.
"Hello, what's this?" thought Winnifred, and she flew into the hallway. She found Billy's parents outside the door, speaking with a doctor. Billy's mommy was crying.
"He has malaria," the doctor said. "Probably from a mosquito bite."
"Sick from a mosquito bite?" thought Winnifred. "Surely that cannot be."
"Put this screen in his window," the doctor said. Now Winnifred was very worried. With a screen in the window, she would not be able to visit her friend Billy!
"Maybe it is not my fault," thought Winnifred. "Maybe he is sick from one of his other animal friends." She decided to go investigate.
She visited the dog, who always brought Billy his slippers when he wanted to walk on the cold bathroom floor. Today it brought Billy the funny papers to read in bed. "My," thought Winnifred. "What a helpful friend."
She visited the cat, who liked to curl up next to Billy and purr. It was a friendly sound. "This cat is able to make Billy happy even when he is sick," thought Winnifred. "What a helpful friend."
She visited her fellow insect, the wasp in the windowsill. Here things were different. Winnifred saw that the wasp frightened Billy, and he cried when it came into the room. This was not a helpful friend.
Winnifred realized that some creatures are good and useful to humans like Billy, but others are wicked and cause nothing but grief for humankind.
She looked at Billy's miserable face, red with fever, and understood that she herself was among the evil creatures of the world!
"This is my fault," Winnifred thought. "I have caused my friend Billy to be sick."
And so she buzzed sadly back into the hallway. "I do not deserve a friend that I treat so poorly," she thought.
"I do not deserve to live."
Winnifred flew past the ear of Billy's father. She knew that he did not like this.
She flew in front of his face, and he made an angry shout.
She landed on his hand - the hand that was not holding the newspaper - and she waited for the sound that she knew was next.
"This is good," thought Winnifred. "I must be punished for my wickedness." And then...
SMACK!
And that, little ones, is why it is okay to kill bugs.
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Jason watched breathlessly as the
girl in the window across the street unbuttoned her blouse, removing it and
draping it casually over the back of a chair. She removed her earrings and laid
them on her dresser, then her skirt, which took its place on the closet
doorknob. She had just removed her prosthetic leg when she turned out the light.
She and her family moved away the next week, leaving Jason to spend the rest of
his life wondering where she put that leg when she went to sleep.
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MANTEO, NC – Marine
biologist Vince Bradley shocked the scientific community Thursday by announcing
the discovery of a heretofore unknown ocean, existing self-contained in a large
whelk shell on the coast of North Carolina. The discovery occurred during a
routine vacation to Manteo, when Bradley’s 5-year-old daughter held the shell
to her ear and heard the ocean inside.
“I was skeptical at first, but then
I listened and sure enough – there’s an ocean in there,” said Bradley, a
professor at East Carolina
University. “You can hear it clear
as day.”
The shell, cream-colored and nearly
8 inches in length, was formed by the calcium-rich secretions of the Atlantic
Whelk, a large mollusk. The size of the interior ocean is as yet undetermined.
“Clearly several questions pop up
immediately,” Bradley said at Thursday’s press conference. “What else is in
there? Miniature continents, miniature nations – there could be a whole race of
people in there that we’ve never met.”
The Washington,
D.C., press conference also featured Bradley’s
daughter, Jenna, re-enacting the ocean’s discovery by holding the shell to her
ear.
“I hears a ocean!” Jenna explained.
Though no official name for the
body of water had been agreed upon at press time, Bradley noted that his
daughter was leaning towards “The Happy Candy Ocean.” This nomenclature has
been challenged by the local cartographer’s union, as has the fact that the
ocean’s transient nature makes it difficult to place on a map.
“It is premature to name this body
of water until we find a way to fit it into current geographical models,” said
a union spokesman.
The scientific community is not the
only party with an interest in the ocean’s exploration. Exxon-Mobil
representative Eric Shirley said the petroleum company has already begun
drafting designs to implement what they see as “potentially exciting
opportunities for new offshore drilling locations.”
“The implications of this discovery
are, of course, enormous,” explained Stanford
University oceanography expert
David Bloom. “One now has to wonder how many more secret oceans may exist
un-catalogued in the countless other shells scattered across the beaches of the
world.”
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Bill sat down at his typewriter and the words immediately began to pour out of him. Apparently, the smoothie he’d made from one of his old philosophy textbooks didn’t agree with his stomach. He picked a few paper scraps from between the keys and resolved to try again later with civics. | | |
| INT. CLASSROOM -- MORNING
A female TEACHER (28) lectures to a class full of HIGH SCHOOL STUDENTS. PERCY (16) sits in the front row, listening aptly.
TEACHER
So since we have a little time left we’ll pick up our discussion of the presidents. Does anyone remember where we left off yesterday?
Percy raises his hand instantly.
TEACHER (CONT’D)
Yes, Percy.
PERCY
We just finished Harding
TEACHER
Okay, well we can probably get through some of the next one, which is...
(she opens a book)
Okay, Calvin Coolidge. You know, my grandfather used to tell a funny story about Coolidge. This isn’t in your book, but...
The class moves as one to open their notebooks and prepares to write.
TEACHER (CONT’D)
You don’t need to write this down; it’s probably not even true. It’s just kind of funny, I think.
The class relaxes with the exception of Percy, who continues to open his notebook and uncap his pen diligently.
TEACHER (CONT’D)
Some of you may have heard before that they used to call Calvin Coolidge “Silent Cal,” because he...
She trails off, noticing that Percy has been writing down word-for-word what she says.
TEACHER (CONT’D)
Percy, you don’t have to write this down. It’s just a joke - it won’t be on the test.
PERCY
Okay.
He makes no move to cap his pen or close the notebook. The teacher stares at him for a moment before continuing.
TEACHER
Well anyway, they called him “Silent Cal,” because he was known for – Percy, you don’t have to write this down.
Percy looks up guiltily from his shorthand.
PERCY
Sorry.
Beat.
TEACHER
Why don’t you go ahead and put the cap back on that pen?
Percy caps his pen. Beat.
TEACHER (CONT’D)
Well, so he didn’t say much, is the point of the nickname. And the story goes that...
There is a telltale click from Percy’s pen cap coming off. He looks up with eyes wide. The teacher smacks the pen out of his hand without missing a beat.
TEACHER (CONT’D)
...there was a banquet at the White House, and this woman is sitting next to Coolidge and he hasn’t said anything throughout the entire dinner...
Percy has found a pencil and is still writing as the teacher talks. Again without losing a beat, she smacks the pencil from his hand and snatches the notebook, which she flings across the room.
TEACHER (CONT’D)
...and so finally she looks over at him and says, “Mr. President, I was talking with my husband earlier when I found out I was going to sit next to you and” – PERCY!
Percy has found another pencil and is writing on a small notepad.
TEACHER (CONT’D)
You really don’t have to write this down!
She grabs the notepad and rips out the page he has written on, then crumples it up and bounces it off of his face.
TEACHER (CONT’D)
(composing herself)
Anyway. She says, “My husband bet me $20 that I could get you to say more than two words.” And so Coolidge...
She trails off as a strange tapping sound begins to compete with her speaking. She looks over to see Percy writing with a third pencil on the surface of the desk. She SCREAMS and tackles him out of his desk. Percy struggles to crawl away from her, but she grabs him around the knees and drags him down again. The bell rings. | | |
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