2Final Draft, Inc. Final Draftd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ct 1 Wilsons apartment, kitchen WILSON (mid-twenties) enters with an egg in his hand. He lights a burner under a tea pot and approaches the audience. Wilson (to audience) I envisioned the scene differently when I wrote it. I pictured a more comical outcome. Shed be silent at first. Itd be uncomfortable, but then wed laugh. Maybe shed grab something to throw at me. Id dodge. Shed give chase. Wed circle around the table until the roles reversed. Id grab her from behind, give her a towel. Wed laugh some more. Maybe thered be some fucking; who knows? He returns to the kitchen and retrieves two cups from the cabinet. All the while, he holds the egg. The kettle whistles an impatient tune. He removes it from the heat and fills the cups. WILSON (to audience) Its not that Im disappointed by how it played out. Theres just something to be said for the unexpected, nothing I plan on saying, but something nonetheless. POLLY (mid-twenties) enters the kitchen in her pajamas. Polly Tea? WILSON Yep. Howd you sleep? He hands her a cup and places his own on the table. POLLY Not bad. I had the dream about the horse and the crow again. WILSON approaches the audience. WILSON This is Polly. Im Wilson. He returns to the scene and holds his free hand above POLLYS head. POLLY is still. WILSON (to audience) Polly. POLLY (to audience) My full name isnt important. As with most women in stories like these, I serve only to motivate the principal male players. POLLY returns to her former frozen position. WILSON holds his hand above his own head. WILSON (to audience) Wilson Warthing Woods. POLLY sets her cup on the table and begins to rummage through the fridge. She comes out with a jug of milk. POLLY How bout you? Get anything done last night? WILSON You bet. I was on fire. POLLY Thats good. WILSON (holds out the egg) I wrote this for you. POLLY (puzzled) An egg? WILSON What else? POLLY (buys in) Whats it about? WILSON Action, mostly. The second act gave me some trouble, but I pulled it through. POLLY takes a seat at the table. POLLY Hope its better than those pancakes you wrote last week. WILSON I told you I wasnt cut out for flapjacks. Leaveem to the Hemmingways and the Steinbecks of the world, I said, but you never listen. 00020000065B000008D0655,POLLY Hows it end? WILSON walks behind her and smashes the egg on the top of her head. He then takes a seat at the table, stirs some sugar into his tea, and draws a sip. Polly sits for a moment in silence, egg dripping all around her. Eventually, she stands and grabs a towel from the counter. She wipes her face and hair. WILSON maintains a serious and innocent face as she retakes her seat and prepares her tea. POLLY You should know I was already planning on leaving you next week. Its important that you know that. I even wrote it in my calendar. I wasnt gonna tell you about Marty and me. Thats important, too. I was just gonna say I was unhappy, leave it at that. She stirs her tea. WILSON Seems big enough to remember without a calendar. POLLY It was more for resolve than memory. Everything seems more real when you write it down. WILSON Makes sense. POLLY exits, cup in hand. WILSON has another sip of tea, smacks his lips, and sighs before standing to approach the audience. WILSON Theres this story about Bill Moyers and a basketball. Basketball court BILL MOYERS is kneeling before a basketball that sits on a bench to the side of the court, eyeing it intensely. WILSON approaches. WILSON (childs voice) Hey mister, that your ball? MOYERS makes no reply. His attention remains squarely fixed upon the ball. WILSON (to audience) The kids never seen Moyers on TV. It could be any old man from his perspective. WILSON kneels beside MOYERS and squints at the ball. WILSON (childs voice) What is it, mister? Whatcha see in there? MOYERS is a stone. WILSON waves his fingers in front of the old mans eyes. 000200000DAD00000F25DA7,MOYERS doesnt blink. WILSON takes the ball and approaches the audience. MOYERSS focus remains fixed on the spot where the ball had been. WILSON The ball was just a coincidence. He wasnt even looking at it. Bill Moyers is like that. Theres this story about how one time he stared at a chick in the Macys housewares department until she slapped him. He never budged. Later, he told the store detective hed been running algorithms in his head. Some folks say hes a machine, but thats a stupid thing to say. BLACKOUT Wilsons apartment, living room MARTY (mid-twenties) is seated on the couch. WILSON enters with two beers. He hands one to MARTY and sits in the recliner. MARTY She left? WILSON Yep. Said shed been angling for an out, already. Seems it was just a matter of time and circumstance. MARTY (cautious) Thats it? WILSON No. That was just the gist of it. There was some stuff in there about how I cant make pancakes, but she said that before the egg thing. And also that shed been screwing you, she said something about that, too. Nothing else, though, nothing I remember, at least. MARTY slumps in his chair as if hes been shot with a slow bullet. WILSON eyes him for a few seconds. His face gives nothing away. WILSON I guess she figured it was as good a time to break the news as any. MARTY (apologetic) Im-- WILSON Dont. (stands) Its weird, you know. For her, that was maybe the all-time low of our relationship. MARTY But not for you? WILSON No way. That was a peak. Right then, in that moment, things were the best theyd ever been. MARTY (confused) Why? Beause she was degraded? WILSON Hardly. I thought we were sharing a moment. Its hard to explain. I guess I can see it from her perspective, but it didnt go at all the way I figured it would. Its weird how you can be so tied up in what you expect that you never consider any other outcome. It seems obvious now, but thats only because cause and effect are constants if you look atem from the aftermath of something. She couldve gotten mad enough to stab me in the neck. She couldve smeared egg yolk on my dick and licked it off. Its not likely, but anything was possible. The egg itself, cracking it over her head, that was such an unusual event that it changed the stability of the moment in a real way. It changed everything. What do you think? MARTY I dont know. I think she reacted as well as you could expect. WILSON No. The sex. How is it? MARTY takes a hit from his beer and turns his attention to his feet. MARTY Im sorry. I know it was, is, shitty. I cant-- WILSON Shut up. You dont owe me an apology. Youre both adults. If anything, I owe you an apology. MARTY Why? WILSON For standing in your way. It must have been a real bitch to hafta sneak around. MARTY studies WILSONS face. WILSON Seriously. MARTY I said Im sorry ... I dont know what else I can say. It was selfish. Its just-- WILSON Look. If you wanna say something to me, why not say youre man enough to stand on your actions and take what comes. Apologies are servile and irritating. Youre not a dog, and Im not gonna rub your nose in this. You had sex with a girl. Good for you. Its about time, frankly. So what if she was my girl. I was never comfortable with that idea in the first place. What hurts most is that Im stuck with the bills around here. MARTY So ... were cool? WILSON As cool as possible, given the circumstances. But look, I want you to give her a goodbye fuck for me. I think we need that to move on. 00020000073D00001CCC737,MARTY smirks. WILSON Im not kidding. Those are the terms, non-negotiable. But dont tell her its from me until afterward. I dont think shed go along with it if she knew. MARTY But then Id have to bring it over here and give it to you, the fuck. Is that how it works? WILSON If you were a gentleman, yes. In your case, Ill settle for a reenactment. Its gotta be good, though, and you hafta do both parts. MARTY empties his bottle in a gulp and sets it on the table. WILSON One more thing. You got that bike you owe me? MARTY walks to the window and looks out on the courtyard. MARTY Yeah, sure. Its chained to that downspout in the courtyard. You got some pliers? Ill go get it if you do. WILSON exits in search of pliers. MARTY approaches the audience. MARTY Theres this story about Bill Moyers and a ghost town in Arizona, one where they reenact the old west. Old tucson, main street BILL MOYERS is licking an ice cream cone outside the Old Tucson Mercantile and Gift Shop. WILSON comes running out of the adjacent bank dressed as a desperado. Hes holding a bag of loot in one hand and a gun in the other. MOYERS drops his cone and winks at WILSON. From the saloon across the street steps MARTY in the costume of an old west sheriff. MARTY (to WILSON) Drop yer iron, Lester, if you know whats good for you. WILSON Never! MARTY Dont make me shoot you dead in front of these good people. (winks at the audience) Dont you dare make me do that. MOYERS makes the shape of a gun with his thumb and forefinger and points it at MARTY. He crosses the street, imaginary gun trained on the sheriff, with the measured gait of a long-time gunslinger. MARTY (side-mouth to MOYERS) Whatre you doin, old man. Youre ruinin the show for everyone else. MOYERS is silent. His killers eyes are trained intently on MARTY as he continues his approach. 0002000006AB000024036A5,WILSON (flustered) You oughtta think twice about drawin that six-shooter, Sheriff Garfield. I dont reckon Deputy Fillmores ready to fill yer yella boots just yet. MOYERS closes in. BILL MOYERS (calm, television voice) Run Lester. Ill handle this cotton-assed law man. MARTY (to moyers) Cool yer heels, mister. Yer screwin up the show. MOYERS presses forward, undaunted. WILSON makes for an escape on foot through a side street. MARTY (after WILSON) Cmon, Lester, you know that aint right. WILSON takes a quick look over his shoulder before disappearing into the alley. MARTY throws his hat in the dirt at the old mans feet. BILL MOYERS Lets go, law dog. MARTY pulls his gun and fires. The cap makes a weak report, but MOYERS acts as if hes been shot and falls to the ground, wildly firing his imaginary gun into the air throughout his descent. A TOURIST in the audience gasps. MARTY holds up the gun to the audience. MARTY (to audience) Its not real. Its just a prop. MOYERS doesnt stir. MARTY approaches the audience. MARTY They say he laid like that for so long they had to call an ambulance. It wasnt until they got him to the hospital that he could be convinced he wasnt dead. Some folks say hes dedicated so wholly to the moment that hes got no grasp on reality ... Im beginning to think they have it backwards. BLACKOUT Courtyard of wilsons apartment building An old-fashioned bicycle with a banana seat and handlebar tassels stands chained to a downspout at the far wall of the courtyard. MARTY enters at the opposite side and crosses the space, looking suspiciously over his shoulders as he walks. He kneels at the bike and begins to work on the chain with a pair of pliers. 0002000006BC00002AA86B6,MR. HOLLISTER (elderly, deceptively so) enters the courtyard from the street. He eyes MARTY for a moment before quietly sidling up to him. MARTY, focused on the work, does not notice. MR. HOLLISTER Hey young fella. Nice night, eh? MARTY jumps with a start and turns toward the voice, pliers brandished. MR. HOLLISTER Easy now. MARTY Sorry, sir. (lowers pliers) Its just late, you know. MR. HOLLISTER Are you stealing that bicycle? MARTY looks at the bike, then back at MR. HOLLISTER MARTY Yeah. I guess I am. MR. HOLLISTER Suit yourself, son, but I should tell you that its haunted. MARTY Haunted? MR. HOLLISTER Ayup. MARTY (grins) Caveat (thinks) something. WILSON Levator, maybe? MARTY Sure. Caveat levator. Thanks. MARTY returns his attention to the chain. MR. HOLLISTER You know, Ive got a key to that lock upstairs. If you want, I could get it for you. MARTY doesnt turn. MARTY Its your bike? MR. HOLLISTER I guess you could say that. You want the key or not? MARTY No, I think Ill stick with the pliers. MR. HOLLISTER How about the ghost, care to hear about that? MARTY thinks it over for a tick. MARTY No. Sorry, Id just as soon not. MR. HOLLISTER OK. Youre the boss. Just dont-- MARTY --say you didnt warn me. Yeah, I wont. MR. HOLLISTER steps back and watches as MARTY struggles with the chain. MARTY looks over his shoulder and stares briefly at MR. HOLLISTER before returning his attention to the work at hand. MARTY (facing the bike) You know, you look real familiar. MR. HOLLISTER Ive lived here for a while, a few years now. MARTY No. Ive seen you around here from time to time, but thats not it. The first time I saw you I thought you looked familiar, like from TV or something like that. 0002000007350000315E72F,MR. HOLLISTER Cant say as I recall being on TV. Common face, maybe. MARTY stands and examines MR. HOLLISTER. MARTY Doesnt look that common to me. Your nose is sorta crooked, and the shape of your jaws damn-near awkward. No, I remember you from somewhere else. Im sure of it. I think it was definitely TV. MR. HOLLISTER (laughs) Search me, kid. MARTY Levator. Wouldnt that be someone who levitates? MR. HOLLISTER Lifts. MARTY As in pilfers. MR. HOLLISTER Something like that. Its not appropriate, though, not for this situation. MARTY No. I guess its not. MARTY returns to the bicycle. He gives the chain a few more tugs with the pliers, punctuated by a frustrated smack. MARTY (defeated) OK. Lets see that key. BLACKOUT Wilsons apartment, living room WILSON is watching television from the recliner. The voice of BILL MOYERS fills the room. BILL MOYERS (V.O.) When I learn something new-and it happens every day-I feel a little more at home in this universe, a little more comfortable in the nest. That is why it is so important that you support public broadcasting. You look to public broadcasting for enrichment and understanding. Now is the time to pitch in, to do your part to ensure that programs like the one you were just watching endure in a world that needs them now, more than ever. In my conversations with Joseph Campbell-- MARTY enters through the door with the bicycle from the courtyard. WILSON turns off the TV and examines the bike. WILSON (runs his hand along the seat) Ive always wanted one like this. MARTY Whats it for, anyway? WILSON An experiment. MARTY Youre a scientist now? WILSON Sure, why not? MARTY What sort of experiment? WILSON Im not certain. It has to do with the form and substance of the universe; I know that much. Its probably nothing, but it might just be a little bit of everything. 0002000006410000388D63B,MARTY Hows the bike fit in? WILSON The bikes the key, my man. I was watching TV at my moms place last week; I saw this Moyers interview with a physicist, Brian something. MARTY Yeah, Brian Greene. I saw the first half of that one. WILSON Then you missed the most important part. Moyers spaced out near the end. This Greene guys talking about tears in space, how theyre not what you might imagine, when Moyers stands up and puts his hands on the guys shoulders. The guy sorta jumps, and then Moyers is like-- Moyers interview set - aside BILL MOYERS stands with his hands on BRIAN GREENES shoulders. BILL MOYERS Tell them about the bicycle parallels. WILSON (V.O.) Greene cant think of anything to say. Hes terrified. MOYERS returns to his seat and slumps down, his face in his hands. BILL MOYERS Tell them. Seven around and seven back, precise along the narrow track. Tell them. BRIAN GREENE Mr. Moyers. I have no idea what youre talking about. MOYERS jumps to his feet. BILL MOYERS Tell them! You know, and you know I know you know! Why wont you just tell them? wILSONS APARTMENT, LIVING ROOM - contd MARTY Thats it? WILSON What do you mean, thats it? Thats everything. I did some research. Turns out Moyers wrote a peculiar paper during a residency at Cambridge in 1986. I ordered a duplicate of it from the Cambridge library. MARTY They do that? WILSON It was so far-out that it was never published, but its not like they just toss out essays by residing luminaries, regardless of how fucked-up they are. Theres a mechanism in place. Pay the fee, get the copy. Easy as pie. 000200000C7100003EC8C6B,MARTY And the paper? WILSON produces a heavy sheaf of bound paper and hands it to MARTY. WILSON Its about bicycles, but you probably guessed that. Its a sort of how-to manual for crossing into parallel universes with em. MARTY (sarcastic) Only bicycles? MARTY returns THE PAPER to WILSON. WILSON places the document at a deliberate point on the stage. Once placed, THE PAPER remains as an artifact throughout the first act, drawing focus when necessary. WILSON As far as this paper goes: yes. MARTY And you think itll work? WiLSON (shrugs) Im reserving my judgement. MARTY sits. WILSON exits to the kitchen. MARTY (after WILSON) This experiment, is it art or science? WILSON (from kitchen) How do you mean? Is there a difference? MARTY Its about flair, I think. If you just follow the procedure, thats science. If you make it your own-- WILSON returns with two beers, hands one to MARTY, and sits on the couch. WILSON None of that means anything. Its the underneath that determines whether or not its art, at least in this case. MARTY The motive. WILSON Right. Motive. MARTY Yours being? WILSON Undisclosed. MARTY takes a pull from his beer and eyes the bicycle. MARTY (resigned) However it turns out, its gotta be better than Garbage Hat. WILSON (sullen) Garbage Hat was misunderstood. MARTY Did you understand it? WILSON Not necessarily, but its not about that. The finer details come out in the wash. MARTY Like dreams. WILSON Right, like dreams. I wont get it until somebody else does. Im too close t