Tuesday, June 10, 2014

A script called "Tim"

"Tim" is a shitty title, but I hate writing titles.  This is a feature I wrote a while back that I recently revised slightly and thought it wasn't as bad as I remembered.  You be the judge.  It's a story told a million times.  A love story about two guys, a girl, and a set golf clubs.  Kind of a hate letter to the shithole town I grew up in.  All of it is true except the parts I made up.


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"TIM"
Ext. outside a downtown st. joseph, mo bar - niGHT
The streets rest while the night exhales. 
It's the late nineteen-nineties in a small city in the small-time middle west and a young man, TIM, is pushed out the door of the bar by his buddy, Jake.  Tim is medium man.  Medium size, medium looks, medium clothes, medium intelligence, big problems. 
Tim turns to Jake and lunges his body towards the door.  Jake blocks his path.
Tim
Fuck those fucking fuckers, man!
Jake pushes Tim away from the direction of the bar.  Jake is  larger than Tim in almost every way, but with a much more conservative fashion sense evident in an almost fetishistic love of polo shirts.  Jake's hair is marvel that can only be described as "TV hair".  It never moves.  Jake and Tim are the same age, but Jake appears several years older.
TIM
C'mon!
Jake
This shit happens every time we go out.
Tim paces back and forth, pointing occasionally towards the bar.
TIM
What the hell was that guy's problem?
JAKE
I don't know, he said he was cop and you pissed him off.
TIM
He pissed ME off.
JAKE
Well, he told me he was gonna kick your ass.
TIM
I don't think I did anything.
JAKE
He thought you did.
TIM
Shit.
JAKE
(laughs)
That's the third time we've been thrown out of there this year.
Ext. Downtown st. joseph, near a firehouse - nighT
Tim and Jake walk down the street.  Jake takes a swig out of a bottle of whisky.  Tim grabs the bottle from Jake and attempts to drink from it, but the bottle is empty.  He tosses it aside and it busts.
JAKE
Jesus, man!
TIM
Oops.
They come upon a firehouse.  Jake scoots over to the firehouse door.  It's open.
TIM
What are you doin'?
Jake turns to Tim and smiles.
JAKE
They keep these things open twenty-four hours.
TIM
Seems a little too trusting.
JAKE
(shrugs)
Eh, it's a small town.
Jake walks into the fire house.  Tim guardedly enters behind him.
Int.  DOWNTOWN ST. JOSEPH, NEAR A FIREHOUSE - night
TIM
You think someone stands guard or...
JAKE
Would you shut the hell up?
Tim shakes his head alright.
Jake grabs a fire helmet, puts it on, and strikes a pose.
JAKE
(quietly)
How do I look?
Tim gives the A-OK sign.  Jake smiles and grabs a fireman's coat.  Tim grabs a hat and coat as well.  They both laugh to themselves.  Jake motions Tim outside.  Tim turns to follow him, but spots an axe on the wall and grabs it before he exits.
Ext. DOWNTOWN ST. JOSEPH, NEAR A FIREHOUSE - night
Jake peers into a fire engine truck and sees that the keys are in the ignition.  He opens the door and hops inside.
TIM
What are you doing?
JAKE
Get in.
TIM
Maybe we should get out of here.
JAKE
Maybe you should stop being such a wuss.
Tim, reluctantly gets in the passenger seat of the truck.
Int. Fire truck - night
JAKE
We're taking' this around the block.
TiM
Are you serious?
JAKE
Heck yeah.  No one will ever know.
TIM
I don't think this is a good idea, Jake.
JAKE
C'mon, hold on tight.
Tim grabs Jake's arm.
TIM
You don't wanna do this, man.  I don't wanna go to jail. 
JAKE
We're not going to jail. 
TIM
There's no way we can afford bail.  We'll be in for months.
JAKE
We're not going to jail.  You don't wanna come, fine.  I'm going for a spin.
Tim
You don't wanna do this.
JAKE
Get out.
Jake reaches for the key again.  Tim leans over to grab his arm, but Jake pulls his arm back to throw a punch.
Tim backs off.
Jake turns the key and the engine roars.
JAKE
Whooh!
Jake puts the vehicle in gear and inches forward.
TIM
Jake!
Tim points to the fire house.  All the upstairs lights have come on.  They both look at each other.
JAKE
Bail.
They both high tail it out of the truck, still dressed in the fire hats and coats.  Tim carrying the axe.
EXT. residential city street - nIGHT
Both Tim and Jake have been running for several minutes and they begin to tire.  Jake slows down.  Tim follows suit.  They both lean over to catch their breath and try not to puke.
JAKE
I think we're cool.
TIM
Holy shit!
An OLD LADY, camped out on her porch yells down to them.
Old lady
My goodness.  Is there a fire around here?
TIM
(to Jake)
Follow me.
Tim starts to jog up the sidewalk up a hill, purposely.  He raises the axe in the air and lowers his voice.
TIM
Don't worry, ma'am.  Everything's OK.  Go back inside.
The Old Lady takes a second look at the two boys, one in shorts, both in tennis shoes.
OLD LADY
You guys ain't no firemen!
They pick up their pace.
OLD LADY
(O.S.)
I'm calling the cops!
TIM
Not again.
JAKE
Cut through this yard.
The two young men run into a driveway and cut across the block through the backyards of two houses.  Halfway through, Jake stops, Tim continues running for a few moments.
JAKE
Wait up.
Jake vomits into a bush while sirens can be heard in the distance.
TIM
You OK?
Jake laughs straight through several vomits.
Ext. JAKE'S PLACE - niGHT
They walk past Tim's little economy car that is parked out front of Jake's apartment building (a large house). 
JAKE
When are you getting this hunk of junk fixed?
TIM
We're having a big sell-a-thon tomorrow.  I'm gonna make a ton of money.
Jake nods.
TIM
Hey, that rhymes. Ton of mon, ton of mon...ee.
Jake walks ahead of him to his apartment door.
InT. Jake's apartment - nIGHT
The door swings open.  Tim and Jake drag themselves into the small upstairs apartment.  They both are sweating profusely.
Tim rips off his fire jacket and hat, sets down the axe and flops on the couch.
TIM
Man, those things are hot.
Jake takes off the jacket, leaving his hat on and sits in his favorite chair. 
JAKE
They retard fire.
TIM
What?
Jake waves at Tim as if to dismiss him.  Tim pulls a new pack of cigarettes out of a half-empty carton on the coffee table.  He begins packing his cigarettes by pounding the top of the pack onto his left hand over and over and over and over again.
No one speaks. 
Jake gets up and walks to kitchen.  Tim sits up and lights a cigarette using an old beer can as an ashTrey that was sitting on the coffee table in front of him.
JAKE
(O.C.)
Beer?
TIM
Yeah.
A Milwaukee's Best beer can suddenly comes flying in towards Tim.  It hits him in the hands but he fumbles the can and it hits the ground.  Jake walks in to the living room.
JAKE
Party foul.
Tim doesn't look at Jake.
TIM
Yeah.
Tim begins furiously tapping the beer can drink hole.
JAKE
Don't spill.
TIM
Yeah.
He taps a few more times.
JAKE
We gotta get some pictures of this stuff.
Tim opens his beer can and it begins overflowing with foam.  Tim quickly starts to gulp the beer to prevent spillage.
Jake gets up and heads to his bedroom
TIM
Yeah.
Tim has beer all over his shirt, but none on the floor.
Jake returns holding his camera.
TIM (CONT'D)
Hold up.
Tim puts down his beer and puts the fire gear back on.  Holding the axe in his best fireman pose.
Jake snaps a picture.
TiM (CONT'D)
Hold up, I blinked.
JAKE
No you didn't.
TIM
I fucking did.
JAKE
Jesus, enough with curse words.  I'll take another one.
TIM
Fuckin' A.
Jake snaps another picture.  He hands the camera to Tim.
TIM (CONT'D)
Smile.
JAKE
Just take it.
The flash freezes the moment in time.

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