Concertos For Double Helix

Concertos For Double Helix

Six Short, Tragic Comedies About Better Living Through Science by

Javier Grillo-Marxuach

OVER BLACK: Parthenogenesis

FADE IN

INT. DOCTOR ELIAS KITTRIDGE’S OFFICE - DAY

HANNAH FAULKNER (20's) lies on an examination table, dressed in a hospital smock - her body language makes it clear that she feels exposed and uncomfortable.

The door to the office opens to reveal DR. KITTRIDGE (early

60’s): a gentle man whose absent-minded quality gives him a deceptive air of kindness.

Kittridge gives her a smile but stands at the door, saying nothing. Hannah smiles back nervously.

HANNAH

Is there a problem, Doctor Kittridge?

KITTRIDGE

No... No problem. I'm just afraid you're going to have to wait here a little bit longer. Until your test results come in. I'll be more than happy to sit here with you until then.

HANNAH

When I came in you could barely spend a minute in here without having a nurse come in or having to go see another patient and now you want to sit with me... there's something seriously wrong with me, isn't there?

Kittridge sits on his stool, his back to the door.

KITTRIDGE

Are you still having those nightmares we talked about?

HANNAH

You said it was nothing to worry about.

KITTRIDGE

Do any of your nightmares have to do with your childhood at all?

HANNAH

What are you getting at?

Concertos For Double Helix 5/10/12 2.

KITTRIDGE

How much of your childhood do you remember?

HANNAH

Like the first time I realized I had breasts or something?

Kittridge pulls his stool closer to Hannah.

KITTRIDGE

Earlier than that. Before you were adopted.

HANNAH

My real memories - they're kind of like a blur.

KITTRIDGE

You don't remember a squadron of assault helicopters, and explosions and running and jumping, and a whole bunch of army men running around with guns, fire, flares, jeeps...

(last grasp)

...smoke?

HANNAH

No.

KITTRIDGE

I see. Well, this may be something of a shock to you, but it seems that you were born and raised in a government facility and a... caring, if misguided, humanitarian doctor managed to smuggle you out of the lab and subsequently died very violently... but not before giving you up for adoption anonymously.

HANNAH

I'm not so sure I believe this.

KITTRIDGE

But doesn't it strike you as odd that you've never been sick?

Hsnnsh looks down, then back up at the doctor:

HANNAH

You mean until the glowing lump appeared between my legs.


KITTRIDGE

That's not exactly the sign of a sickness.

(off her look)

Apparently the cold war-era scientists who bred you built that in as something of a homing beacon. Like a biological fail safe. It wasn't supposed to go off until you turned thirty. That you wound up here in my office is... quite amazing.

HANNAH

Bred?

KITTRIDGE

Oh yes. Unfortunately, all of the research was destroyed and you were lost for many years. Now that you've been found, a vital part of the march of science can finally be recovered.

HANNAH

How exactly do you know all of this?

KITTRIDGE

You are the world's only living, breathing U.D.A.

HANNAH

U.D.A.?

KITTRIDGE

Yes. You Hannah Faulkner, are the

Universal Donor Animal.

HANNAH

Animal? What is wrong with you?

KITTRIDGE

Please... please. U.D.A. was a code name. I didn't mean to insult you.

Hannah stands up.

HANNAH

This is bull. This is some kind bizarre medical practical joke.

KITTRIDGE

Please, sit down. It's all right, you're a very special person. You're the Universal Donor... Person.


HANNAH

I don't even know what that means.

KITTRIDGE

It means that if someone, anyone, anyone in the world needed a kidney, or a heart you could give it to them, and they'd be fine.

HANNAH

I could?

KITTRIDGE

And yours would just grow back.

Hannah considers this:

HANNAH

I am definitely going to get a second opinion.

KITTRIDGE

Why would I lie?

Something hits Hannah, hard. She gathers her clothes and backs against a corner.

HANNAH

Oh...my god. You were a part of it, weren't you? This whole government experiment with the soldiers and the shooting and the helicopters...

His hand reaching into his breast pocket as he speaks,

Kittridge produces a flask.

KITTRIDGE

No. Not at all. Hannah you have to trust me.

HANNAH

Trust you? How do I know those men with the guns aren't going to come out after me?

KITTRIDGE

I had nothing to do with it. I just read about it in one of the experimental group briefings but really. I wasn't a part of it at all.

Hell, considering some of the things we were doing in that place... it was hard to sort out what was real and what was sci-fi. Until I saw that lump.

(MORE)


KITTRIDGE (cont'd)

(beat)

But I had nothing to do with it

Hannah. I couldn't possibly mean you any harm.

Kittridge holds out the flask as a peace offering.

KITTRIDGE

You really need to settle down,

Hannah. It's going to be OK.

Hannah regards Kittridge's offer, then drinks from the flask.

HANNAH

(finding her center)

All right, all right. I get it.

(beat)

Could you remove the glowing lump?

KITTRIDGE

Sure I could.

HANNAH

And no one would know about this, right? I could just go home and no one else would know about this U.D.A. thing, right? Not the men with guns or anything like that, right?

KITTRIDGE

Well, not entirely.

HANNAH

Why not?

KITTRIDGE

Well, right after I examined the glowing lump between your legs I made a call... to this phone number that used to be the emergency hotline for the experimental group.

HANNAH

You what?

KITTRIDGE

It's just that back during the cold war we were all very security conscious and I guess some of that stuck with me and, well, they kind of ordered me to slip you a mickey.

Hannah looks down at the flask.


HANNAH

Oh no.

Hannah's head rolls as if she were falling asleep. Her grip slips and the flask falls to the floor.

KITTRIDGE

I'm sorry, Hannah. They made me do this.

HANNAH

Oh, you son of a bitch -

Hannah's eyes slide up. Her head follows. Her muscles go slack and she collapses on the floor.

CUT TO BLACK

INT. BLACK-BOX OFFICE - NIGHT

A lamp casts a harsh light form overhead. Hannah sits on a chair. A friendly, middle tier bureaucrat-type in a dark suit enters, pulling out a pack of cigarettes.

This is EVAN LIPNSKY (30’s).

MAN

My name is Evan Lipinsky. I'm a

Special Expediter with the

O.F.R.G.E.A.S.

Hannah stares at him blankly.

LIPINSKY

The Office of Free Roaming Genetically

Engineered Aberrations of Science.

You mind if I smoke?

Where am I?

HANNAH

Lipinsky lights up.

LIPINSKY

You're fine, believe me.

HANNAH

That wasn't my question.

LIPINSKY

You have to understand, you are the result of a special breeding program.

(MORE)


LIPINSKY (cont'd)

A hundred thousand women had to be impregnated with a genetic soup of the strongest human characteristics combined with the electrochemical and genetic markers that allow our friends in the reptile kingdom to regenerate missing limbs. All to get to someone like you.

HANNAH

And that gives you the right to kidnap me?

LIPINSKY

All I'm saying is you're a pretty big deal, kiddo... so certain safety precautions had to be taken.

HANNAH

Like holding me against my will?

LIPINSKY

I wouldn't even go as far as to say you are being held against your will.

I mean technically, you shouldn't have a will to be held against.

Hannah shoots Lipinsky a quizzical look.

LIPINSKY (CONT'D)

You see, in our accounting, you're not really classified as a person.

Hannah goes to the door, begins pulling on the knob, trying to get out.

HANNAH

Really? Because this person would like to go home now, thank you.

LIPINSKY

I didn't mean that. You clearly are a person, but you were never really intended to be sentient.

HANNAH

Is that supposed to make me feel better?

LIPINSKY

What I'm trying to say is that you should be thankful you got to be who you are, I mean...

(MORE)


LIPINSKY (cont'd) considering that being the product of a government experiment, you are essentially the property of the government.

HANNAH

I am not property. I demand to be let out of this office immediately.

Lipinsky stands, trying to get Hannah back in the chair.

LIPINSKY

Look, Hannah... I can't let you out of this office until you've heard my proposal... the agency's proposal.

Lipinsky holds up a prospectus.

HANNAH

You have a proposal?

LIPINSKY

Yes. Look, we're humane people here.

We can appreciate the fact that you turned into a real person... even if that really wasn't part of the grand design.

(beat)

We're not closed to strange, unexpected contingencies.

HANNAH

Well it's nice to know someone else considers this a strange and unexpected contingency.

Lipinsky smiles and ushers Hannah into a chair. Hannah is beginning to respond to his even and protective tone.

LIPINSKY

You see Hannah, the fact that we could harvest organs from you and implant them into anyone and they'd simply grow back makes you indispensable to the health of the planet. Cigarette?

HANNAH

I don't want to be harvested.

Without missing a beat, Lipinsky lights up a second and sits on the corner of his desk in front of Hannah.


LIPINSKY

(calm and reassuring)

And we wouldn't want to harvest you... anymore. Not when you're a fully formed person like this.

(beat)

Plus it'd hurt. A lot.

(beat)

All that we are suggesting is that you let us harvest -

(reconsidering)

- remove a small amount of your cranial tissue which we can clone.

HANNAH

I thought cloning people was illegal.

Lipinsky's tone turns deadly serious.

LIPINSKY

We're from the government. We can fix that.

HANNAH

All right. So you clone me and then you take the organs out of me... I mean... her?

As Lipinsky speaks he grows more and more excited.

LIPINSKY

Not just her. Not just the one Hannah

Faulkner. I'm talking about hundreds...a thousands of Hannah

Faulknerses, this whole race of you.

All of them grown in Ectogenetic Vats.

All of them sitting in a special room -

(a light bulb)

- an ORGANARIUM! Each of them serving humanity, each of them giving hundreds of people the kidneys, livers, hearts that will save their life!

HANNAH

What if they get lonely?

Lipinsky stops, as if cut down in mid flight.

LIPINSKY

They don't get lonely. They don't have any brains.

No brains.

HANNAH


LIPINSKY

No. Of course not. They have an

L.D.P. before they even know they're alive.

HANNAH

L.D.P.

LIPINSKY

Laser Decerebration Procedure. Zap!

And then they just sit there in the organarium. Brainless. And the beauty part is you get to go home and lead your life while they serve mankind.

(back to business)

You would, of course, have to sign a non-disclosure agreement.

Hannah doesn't reply. A terrible sadness descends on her.

LIPINSKY

What's the matter, Miss Faulkner?

HANNAH

How am I supposed to live with that?

LIPINSKY

It's better if you don't think about too much, actually.

HANNAH

What? That thousands of women, every one of whom has my exact face and body are going to be sitting in some kind of a facility, having their organs painfully removed on a daily basis, and I'm not supposed to think about that?

LIPINSKY

They won't feel the pain, I already said.

HANNAH

How do you know that?

LIPINSKY

If I had no brain I'm sure I wouldn't feel any pain.

HANNAH

I'm not sure you do now.


Lipinsky is genuinely hurt by this.

LIPINSKY

That's unkind.

(then)

I think we're making you a hell of a deal here. You could walk out of this building today and never hear from any of us ever again. You could have your life back.

HANNAH

I get nightmares. I get nightmares all the time. About everything. Once

I had to wait for coffee at Starbucks for too long and I had bad dreams about that.

(beat)

You really think this image you've put in my head is something I'm just going to forget about?

LIPINSKY

This is the time for you to show a little vision, Hannah.

HANNAH

I do have a vision, that every one of these women is going to be a piece of my life that's going to be in pain.

LIPINSKY

Let's talk about your life a little bit, Hannah Faulkner. You're twenty eight years old. You have a B.A. in

Art History from a bottom end of average Midwestern university. You spend nine hours of your day in a cubicle, where some man in short sleeves and a necktie screams at you whenever he's not busy having weird genital fantasies about the rest of the secretarial pool.

(MORE)


LIPINSKY (cont'd)

You come home to that seven-hundred dollars a month single you still can't really afford, with the cheap gray carpeting you couldn't talk your landlord into replacing when you signed the three year lease, and after you feed your cat, sneak a cigarette, listen to NPR, and masturbate in a warm tub, you pull on that pair of boxer shorts your last boyfriend Steve gave you a year ago before he dumped you and you curl up with a low fat vegetarian Lean Pocket you barely had the energy to microwave and you wonder when someone is going to show up who is going to give you all of the things you haven't had the guts to go and get for yourself.

Hannah looks up at Lipinsky. She's crying.

HANNAH

You don't know me. You don't know anything about me.

LIPINSKY

I know you well enough to know we're being awfully big not to put you right in there with your clones and consider it a mercy killing.

(beat)

You could live knowing that you are a savior of lives, and you'd choose otherwise? What the hell kind of person are you really?

HANNAH

(between sobs)

My life has value.

Lipinsky takes a deep breath, he knows he is about to go somewhere he doesn't particularly care to go.

LIPINSKY

(plainly)

You don't need to be alive for us to take what we need from you.

HANNAH

You'd kill me?

LIPINSKY

If I had to? To save a million other lives? Wouldn't you?


Hannah's tone is quiet, resigned.

HANNAH

I think I'd kill you.

Lipinsky opens a drawer on his desk.

LIPINSKY

I'm sorry, Hannah.

Lipinsky reaches into the drawer, but before he can pull out whatever is inside a strange WHOOSHING sound is heard.

Lipinsky grabs his neck. He gags for a moment, then falls to the ground.

COMMANDO#1

Hannah Faulkner?

HANNAH

Yes.

The Commando turns his dart gun on Hannah and fires. We hear the same whooshing sound as before.

Hannah clutches her neck and collapses.

CUT TO BLACK

INT. AN ORNATE ROOM - DAY

The three Hooded Commandos drag an also hooded Hannah to a comfortable gilded chair at the center of this very expensively decorated room - lots of red and gold with classical realist paintings depicting biblical scenes.

On the far wall of the room is a massive window draped with thick, lush velvet drapes.

Sitting her down, Commando#1 removes Hannah's hood and gag.

HANNAH

Who the hell are you people?

Commando#1 removes his hood. The other two do the same as he introduces them.

As Commando#1 removes his hood it becomes clear that his black shirt is actually the dog-collared raiment of a

Catholic Priest.


COMMANDO#1

I'm Father Shaughnessy, this is Father

Vittorio, and that gentleman over there is Rabbi Seligmann.

RABBI SELIGMANN

How you doing?

HANNAH

What's he doing here?

FATHER VITTORIO

Oh, we've been thick as thieves since the Ecumenical Council of '73.

Okay, then.

HANNAH

Hannah takes a long pause and a deep breath, then:

HANNAH

What am I doing here?

FATHER SHAUGHNESSY

We are members of the N.I.P.L.U.

FATHER VITTORIO

The Nonviolent Interfaith Paramilitary

Liberation Unit.

(beat)

We call it "Niploo" for short.

HANNAH

You do.

RABBI SELIGMANN

Well, it sounded better than "God's

Ass Kickers."

FATHER VITTORIO

(to Rabbi Seligmann)

You know, the acronym for that would be "GAK."

The two men share a giggle.

FATHER SHAUGHNESSY

Anyway you're lucky our high-powered sensor array over at St. Peter's

Basilica picked up that glowing lump between your legs when it did.


RABBI SELIGMANN

Yeah, it looked like that asshole

Lipinsky was going to pop a cap in your head.

Hannah springs to her feet.

HANNAH

So what do you people want from me?

(beat)

Oh god...head rush.

FATHER VITTORIO

That dizzy feeling is a side effect of the knock out dart we had to administer to get you here.

FATHER SHAUGHNESSY

Sit down, Hannah... you have nothing to worry about. You're quite safe in a High Security Papal Safe House in the heart of the Vatican.

HANNAH

I'm in Italy?

Father Vittorio steps up to the window and pulls on a cord - the draped PART OPEN to REVEAL:

A PANORAMIC VISTA OF THE VATICAN

Hannah looks back in awe.

FATHER VITTORIO

We like it close to the home office.

RABBI SELIGMANN

Vito over there is speaking for himself, of course.

FATHER SHAUGHNESSY

The Big Guy likes to keep a close eye on everything that's going on.

HANNAH

You don't mean God.

FATHER SHAUGHNESSY

No, I mean the Pope. He's wild about video surveillance cameras. Whole city's wired with them.


RABBI SELIGMANN

Let me get down to brass tacks,

Hannah. Our bosses don't care so much for government agencies that would dissect, mutilate or otherwise profane the children of God. If you catch my meaning.

(beat)

So anyway, when we found out that

Lipinsky and those butchers he represent had gotten a hold of you, we felt that an interdiction was the only possible option.

HANNAH

Then you people don't want to dissect me, or clone me, or kill me.

FATHER SHAUGHNESSY

Of course not. We're the Catholic

Church.

RABBI SELIGMANN

I mean, come on.

HANNAH

Not that I'm not grateful for rescuing me or anything, but what exactly do you people want from me?

FATHER SHAUGHNESSY

We want to protect you from the people and governments who would do those awful things to you because of who you are.

RABBI SELIGMANN

And believe me once the word gets out about you, there are going to be many.

Father Vittorio takes a seat in front of Hannah, his voice soothing.

FATHER VITTORIO

We have a little Villa in Sardinia.

Vineyards, beaches, and a full compliment of highly trained P.M.C.'s.

(off Hannah)'s look:)

Paramilitary Men of the Cloth.

RABBI SELIGMANN

It's top drawer. All the way.


FATHER SHAUGHNESSY

We would like to put you up there for the rest of your life. You know, protected from the kind of people who would want to put you under the knife and treat you like some kind of animal.

HANNAH

What's the catch?

FATHER SHAUGHNESSY

No catch. All we are is interested is in preserving the dignity of the human race by keeping things like the

Universal Donor Animal safely out of the reach of science.

Hannah stops to process all this new information, then:

HANNAH

So I'd be your captive?

FATHER SHAUGHNESSY

Well, I wouldn't put it that way.

HANNAH

What this sounds like to me is that for my own safety I have to become the

Pope's kept woman.

RABBI SELIGMANN

That's ridiculous.

FATHER VITTORIO

It's nothing like that at all.

RABBI SELIGMANN

I mean the Pope could have any woman.

Shaughnessy and Vittorio turn to Seligmann, who drops the topic after an awkward pause.

FATHER SHAUGHNESSY

What Rabbi Seligmann is trying to say is that we want to provide you with the safety you are going to need to live your life.

HANNAH

As long as I never leave the villa unless I'm surrounded by heavily armed

Catholic Priests.


FATHER VITTORIO

It's a really nice villa.

FATHER SHAUGHNESSY

The Roswell aliens lived there undisturbed for well over thirty years without a single complaint.

FATHER VITTORIO

And they even helped us draft the

Papal Encyclical of '69.

RABBI SELIGMANN

(to Vittorio)

That one wasn't half bad.

HANNAH

I don't want to be rude, but I've had a lot of kooky offers in the past twelve hours and I'm not sure I want to settle for anything at this point.

RABBI SELIGMANN

Living in this Villa is not what I'd call settling.

HANNAH

That's not the point. I mean... what if what I have can help people and give my life some kind of a purpose... without giving anyone else pain.

FATHER SHAUGHNESSY

Hannah, if you open yourself up to have your organs taken out for other people, everyone would want a piece of you...

RABBI SELIGMANN

And we don't just mean that metaphorically.

FATHER SHAUGHNESSY

You'd have no peace, you'd have no life of your own.

HANNAH

I'd make that my life.

FATHER VITTORIO

You'd be in constant pain...

RABBI SELIGMANN

...all that surgery.


HANNAH

But at least I'd be choosing that pain. I'd be choosing to be in pain for the sake of others, you know, as long as it's only me doing it and it's my choice.

(beat)

That has to be better than sitting at home and wearing boxer shorts and eating Lean Pockets and masturbating in the bath, right?

The three clergymen stop to ponder this, then:

RABBI SELIGMANN

You know, she has a point there.

FATHER SHAUGHNESSY

Rabbi, I'm not going to entertain this discussion.

RABBI SELIGMANN

No, the young girl has a... talent and she needs a sense of purpose, I think that's reasonable.

FATHER VITTORIO

So we're just going to let her give her organs away like that?

HANNAH

They're my organs. It's my body... but I guess I shouldn't expect you people to understand that.

RABBI SELIGMANN

(sotto vocce)

That was a cheap shot, Hannah.

HANNAH

(to the Priests)

All right, I'm sorry about that.

FATHER SHAUGHNESSY

Hannah. Let's say you do this. How do you administer it? How do you decide who gets what and when?

HANNAH

If your church can keep track of all that money and art and stuff, I'm sure you can help me figure this one out.

Father Shaughnessy shakes his head.


After a long pause, the proverbial light bulb chimes in over Father Vittorio's head:

FATHER VITTORIO

(to Shaughnessy)

You know, this may sound crazy but it just occurred to me that it only takes three miracles to classify someone as a saint.

FATHER SHAUGHNESSY

Watch your mouth, Vito!

FATHER VITTORIO

Her organs are going to grow back,

Liam. That's a miracle if I ever saw one.

FATHER SHAUGHNESSY

She's a science experiment.

FATHER VITTORIO

Nobody has to know that.

HANNAH

All the research was destroyed, you know.

RABBI SELIGMANN

Think about it, Father Shaughnessy.

What if all of the sudden you have this hip, young bird to represent the church like that... to give of herself like that think of what that's going to do to the young people...

(then)

...we could have a web page.

FATHER VITTORIO

They may start coming back to church.

Doing charity work, giving of themselves.

HANNAH

You really think I'm hip?

Rabbi Seligmann ignores the question, focusing on Father

Shaughnessy.

RABBI SELIGMANN

Plus she's already got a glowing halo thing... somewhere on her.


HANNAH

Is this the right time to mention I'm an agnostic?

RABBI SELIGMANN

Hey, so am I.

Father Vittorio shushes the Rabbi, then turns to Hannah:

FATHER VITTORIO

We're with the Catholic Church, we can fix that.

No we can't.

FATHER SHAUGHNESSY

HANNAH

It's my choice, Father Shaughnessy.

I'd be doing it to myself, because I want to. All you'd be doing would be... helping me help people who need it.

FATHER VITTORIO

(to Shaughnessy)

What do you say?

FATHER SHAUGHNESSY

This goes against every tenet of religion we have embraced.

HANNAH

If I went to the Episcopalians, you think they'd turn me down?

FATHER SHAUGHNESSY

This is sacrilege.

HANNAH

Suit yourself.

The sound of the TELEPHONE RINGING breaks the moment. The three men look back at the phone, startled.

Shaughnessy picks up the phone.

FATHER SHAUGHNESSY

(into the phone)

Your excellency.

HANNAH

(re: the phone)

Is that?


Rabbi Seligmann looks over to Father Vittorio:

The Big Guy?

RABBI SELIGMANN

Vittorio nods, anxiously. Shaughnessy listens intently:

FATHER SHAUGHNESSY

Yes, of course. Well... sure.

Really? Okay then...

Shaughnessy hangs up the phone, struck, trying to process something beyond his own sphere of understanding.

FATHER SHAUGHNESSY

I have one question for you, Hannah.

HANNAH

Yes?

FATHER SHAUGHNESSY

How big a halo do you want?

The screen darkens around the clergymen as a CELESTIAL GLOW appears on Hannah - an intense angelic light emanating from between her legs.

The light grows in intensity. celestial music plays as Hannah slowly, deliberately, looks up to heaven, an almost angelic smile on her face.

After a moment:

CUT TO BLACK

OVER BLACK: Dr. Elias Kittridge Sells Out

FADE IN

INT. GARAGE - DAY

A twelve inch black and white television sits on a work bench.

TED, a handsome commercial spokesperson-type, tries to work on his open-hooded car, but something is clearly getting in the way of his focus.

With a frustrated gesture, Ted turns to look into the camera:


TED

I have a headache. A terrible headache. I've tried regular medicines, but the pain keeps coming back. I don't know what to do.

Ted's television lights up magically. On the screen is the image of Dr. KITTRIDGE, looking straight at Ted.

KITTRIDGE

Do you have a headache?

Ted looks at the TV in amazement, then at his remote, then back at the audience.

TED

Why, it's Dr. Kittridge!

KITTRIDGE

A pounding headache?

TED

Board-certified physician!

KITTRIDGE

A brain-smashing, migraine-stress headache?

TED

Leading researcher... at a major hospital.

KITTRIDGE

Has your cranium become synonymous with the anvil of Vulcan, struck repeatedly by the hammer of gods, every blow wresting pain from your living flesh?

ANGLE ON TED

TED

Why yes it has, Dr. Kittridge!

WIDER TO REVEAL

That Dr. Kittridge is now in the garage with Ted!

A gigantic bottle of aspirin labeled “TYLENEX” sits on top of the work bench:

KITTRIDGE

Well, Ted, why don't you take Tylenex?

Yes, Tylenex.

(MORE)

Concertos For Double Helix 5/10/12

Tylenex gets rid of those nasty headaches fast. Be like all the smart people.

KITTRIDGE (cont'd)

ANGLE FAVORING KITTRIDGE AND THE BOTTLE

24.

KITTRIDGE

(a smile)

Take Tylenex!

CHYRON OVER DR. KITTRIDGE’S SMILING FACE: Tylenex

The chyron vanishes.

Ted’s hands reach around the bottle and move it aside, revealing that it was obscuring him from view.

TED

But Dr. Kittridge, Tylenex makes me drowsy!

KITTRIDGE

(to the audience)

True, drowsiness is a common side effect of Tylenex.

Kittridge turns to look at the camera - and the background changes from Ted’s garage to -

A MONTAGE (GREEN SCREEN)

- of busy executive-type people going about a busy workday.

The whole thing has a sped-up, Koyaanisqatsi quality to it.

KITTRIDGE

But why be droopy eyed when you can take a little Remulix? That's right.

Remulix. Remulix perks you up from the drowsiness you get from taking

Tylenex, remember, Remulix, the pickme-up that picks you up!

TED

But gee, Dr. Kittridge, I heard that

Remulix causes hair loss!

The background changes to -

A BEFORE AND AFTER GRAPH

- showing male pattern baldness and hair restoration.


KITTRIDGE

Funny you should mention that, Ted.

Explosive hair loss is a known, immutable side effect of Remulix. But why worry about that when there's

Lexaprom! In over thirty five percent of patients experiencing explosive hair loss as a result of Remulix ingestion, Lexaprom aided in the regrowth of a thin, dewy layer of proto-hair. So, remember, leap for the Lexaprom... the drug for your active lifestyle!

TED

But Doctor, taking Lexaprom gives me chronic liver dysfunction.


A DISEASED LIVER

KITTRIDGE

Why didn't you say so, Ted? Whenever

Lexaprom gives me chronic liver dysfunction all I have to do is take a little Panudol.

With a KLING! The background changes to

A HEALTHY LIVER

TED

Isn't Panudol a leading cause of Black

Lung Disease?


A GRAPH, OVER AN IMAGE OF COAL MINERS

KITTRIDGE

Only in 65% of patients with a family history of work in the coal mining industry.

TED

But I'm concerned, Dr. Kittridge. You see, my grandfather was Welsh.

KITTRIDGE

Well, Ted, whenever your family history gives you concerns about black lung disease all you should do is down a little Dexatrol!

(MORE)


KITTRIDGE (cont'd)

For fast, gentle, overnight removal of black sooty lung mucus, there is only one drug... Dexatrol!

Ted snaps, his tone becoming contentious:

26.

TED

Wait a minute, I read in the medical press that Dexatrol causes spleen gout.


A HAND HOLDING A GREEN PILL

KITTRIDGE

But everybody knows that Trimuzan will take care of that... so remember to take your Trimuzan. The big green pill. It gets the gout out!

But Ted is not buying any of this, and his tone is spinning the commercial into a decidedly nasty orbit.

TED

At the risk of nipple displacement and pet death?

In answer to Ted’s question:

SMASH CUT TO

INT. DR. KITTRIDGE’S LIVING ROOM - DAY

Kittridge sits on an easy chair, petting a cat.

KITTRIDGE

Nipple displacement and pet death are never a problem in my home, Ted.

That's because we always keep a steady supply of Dimbosol, the advanced mammalian trauma inhibitor from the makers of Plituxin, Tamoxidol and

Brequitin.

CHYRON NEXT TO DR. KITTRIDGE’S HEAD: Plituxin - Tamoxidol -

Brequitin

The chyrons vanish as Dr. Kittirdge holds up an unusually large pill inscribed “Dimbosol.”


KITTRIDGE

Dimbosol: the only suppository of its kind available over the counter without a prescription.

Ted leans into frame, getting in Kittridge’s face:

TED

Now wait just one second, Dimbosol is a leading cause of foot shrinkage and reversal of the urinary tract!

SMASH CUT TO

INT. LOCKER ROOM - DAY

Where Dr. Kittridge is now dressed in tennis clothes and slipping on his sneakers:

KITTRIDGE

A spoonful of Dilacur keeps all your trains running on time, and for that foot shrinkage there's nothing more soothing than the fast, medicated relief of Simulac!

Kittridge slips on his show without a problem. He turns to the camera and smiles.

TED

Dilacur?!? I heard that makes you all loopy in the head.

SMASH CUT TO

INT. COLLEGE LECTURE HALL - DAY

Kittridge is now dressed in a lab coat, holding a pointer, with which he indicates the symptoms on a blackbboard.

KITTRIDGE

That's something of an overstatement,

Ted. While it is true that a significant number of test subjects undergoing therapy with Dilacur reported visionary encounters with dead relatives, historical figures and cartoon animals, thirty five percent of those patients who did not go irrevocably insane reported that the experience made them wiser, more caring people.


TED

And that's somehow supposed to make me feel better?

KITTRIDGE

It certainly should, Ted.

As Kittridge steps up to a lectern:

RACK FOCUS TO REVEAL

Bottles of Dilacur and Simulac, proudly displayed on top of the lectern.

KITTRIDGE

Take it from Doctor Kittridge.

Dilacur and Simulac.

TED

I would "take it from Doctor

Kittridge," except the last time I took Simulac, I neglected that big

"rectal bunyons" warning on the label and wound up having to take...

Kittridge knows where this is headed and is duly horrified:

KITTRIDGE

Metamax?!

(beat)

Even though its side effects include pancreatic implosion and cranial blisters?

Ted goes into an angry justification:

TED

Hey. Panteol is good for pancreatic implosion, and Pilnall pops those cranial blisters like you wouldn't believe.

KITTRIDGE

But Ted, are you really comfortable taking two drugs at once?

This one really gets Ted's goat:

TED

What?

But Kittridge is on pitchman overdrive and the background turns into -


A GRAPHIC: TWO BOTTLES LABELED “SUDANEX” MERGING INTO ONE

KITTRIDGE

I would rather take Sudanex. The twoin-one drug! I don't worry! I take

Sudanex! The two-in-one drug!

(then, slyly:)

Sudanex is available only by prescription. Although Federal Law

Prohibits me from telling you what

Sudanex is or does... I can say this... Sudanex. Ask your doctor!

Ted lowers his head.

TED

(bitterly)

Yeah... sure... I asked my doctor about Sudanex...

Ted trails off. He is clearly holding something back.

KITTRIDGE

Uncomfortable?

Ted shrugs. Kittridge leans in.

KITTRIDGE (CONT'D)

Tense?

Ted tries to avoid the question.

KITTRIDGE (CONT'D)

Jumpy?

TED

It's nothing... It's just that... when

I used Sudanex I got a nasty dose of..."you-know"...

KITTRIDGE

Ted, I'm afraid I don't.

TED

Well, "you-know"....

KITTRIDGE

What?

TED

"You know," Dr. Kittridge "You-know!"

Kittridge finally gets it:


KITTRIDGE

Good god, man! Not the horrible and intensely personal embarrassment that is "you know!"

Ted responds with a pained nod of the head.

TED

Yeah... right... and the last time I had to suffer the horrible and intensely personal embarrassment that is..."you know" my wife took off with another commercial spokesman!

The background turns into -

A NEUTRAL BLACK

- with Dr. Kittridge in a spotlight, joined by his lovely wife, LESLIE.

Kittridge puts an arm over her shoulder, she looks lovingly at him:

KITTRIDGE

Well maybe your wife should be more like my Leslie.

TED

Leslie?

Kittridge looks up at the audience, this is a happy Geritol memory for him:

That does it:

KITTRIDGE

Leslie is my wife, Leslie is my best friend, Leslie is my lover.

TED

Got a nice, pat little cure for everything, don't you, you miserable pill-pushing little shill?


KITTRIDGE

You're just pissed off and bitter because you're an underpaid day player with a bad comb-over, and I have it all: a burgeoning, distinguished medical career, a three year product endorsement deal with a major worldwide pharmaceutical conglomerate and a thirty year marriage to the beautiful silver-haired angel of a woman that is my Leslie! That's right, my lovely wife Leslie!

Ted is now dripping with bilious sarcasm:

TED

But gee, Dr. Kittridge, the last time

I fucked your lovely wife Leslie, I got a horrible rash!

Leslie SCREAMS and runs out of there.

By now the barely polite commercial syntax is a thin veil over what has become a streetfight:

KITTRIDGE

Well maybe you should just take a machete to your dick.

Over Kittridge’s pissed off face:

CHYRON: Machete - Now Avalaible Over The Counter

TED

And risk the horrible bleeding and pain I get every time I take a machete to my dick?

They chyron disappears, along with the remains of Dr.

Kittridge’s bedside manner:

KITTRIDGE

You want some free medical advice?

Just put a bullet in your head you ungrateful prick!

TED

But bullets give me a nasty headache!

SMASH CUT TO


INT. GARAGE - DAY

Where Kittridge once again appears with the Tylenex bottle.

KITTRIDGE

Did you say headache? Maybe you should take some Tylenex, remember,

Tylenex, yes, do like all of us smart people, take Tylenex.

CUT TO

The television, where Kittridge now appears on screen as he did when he first appeared to Ted:

KITTRIDGE

Tylenex, Remulix, Lexaprom, Panudol,

Dexatrol, Trimuzan, Dimbosol,

Brequitin, Tamoxidol, Plituxin,

Dilacur, Simulac, Metamax, Panteol,

Pilnall, Sudanex, a woman like my wife, a machete to your dick, a bullet in the head... and Tylenex. All fine products from Harmagon International

Pharmaceuticals Gesellschaft.

Remember, Harmagon International

Pharmaceuticals Gesellschaft. Helping you, help us, to help you.

Kittridge smiles again with all the confidence of a born pitchman.

Ted enters the frame, grabs an axe from the wall and heaves a cathartic SCREAM as he brings the axe down hard, smashing the television to bits.

As the screen SHATTERS and the T.V. image dissolves into static...

CUT TO BLACK

OVER BLACK: Sudden Life

FADE IN

INT. DR. KITTRIDGE’S OFFICE - DAY

OSCAR DANIELS, a man in his early thirties, sits on a stool. He wears a short sleeve shirt and a tie.

Oscar has a sore the size of a silver dollar on his forehead.


Wearing rubber gloves, Dr. Kittridge examines the sore under a magnifying glass.

OSCAR

I don't know... one day I'm swimming in the bay the next I got this thing on my head.

Kittridge pokes at the sore with his gloved fingers, humming with the delight of scientific inquiry.

Oscar flinches.

KITTRIDGE

This is fascinating. It looks like

Fistula Perjoria Piscicida .

Kittridge keeps his attention on the sore, which seems to be a source of endless fascination for him.

KITTRIDGE (CONT'D)

It's a mutated parasite that's been decimating the fish population for the last few years.

(beat)

They say the mutation is the result of the runoff from the hog farms. Six million hogs crapping into the bay, you know.

OSCAR

That can't be good.

KITTRIDGE

It isn't. By the time a fish has a sore like this one, Fistula Perjoria

Piscicida has untangled its DNA...

(making a double helix in the air)

...double helix by tiny double helix...

Then what?

OSCAR

Kittridge pulls away from his examination of the sore to run his finger across his neck, denoting sudden death.

That sucks.

OSCAR (CONT'D)


KITTRIDGE

And how. Fistula Perjoria Piscicida is very bad Latin for "the big open sore that really fucks with the fish."

OSCAR

But this thing doesn't attack people.

KITTRIDGE

Not until today.

OSCAR

I have Fistula Perjoria Piscicida ?

KITTRIDGE

Amazing, isn't it?

OSCAR

Doctor, you seem to have a very positive outlook about this whole thing.

KITTRIDGE

I'd say we have reached a milestone in the world of science today.

OSCAR

This thing kills fish!

Oh yes.

(then)

Viciously.

KITTRIDGE

Oscar wiggles away from the Doctor's continuing examination.

OSCAR

Am I going to die?

KITTRIDGE

I wouldn't go so far as to say you're going to die...

(beat)

...immediately.

OSCAR

Oh my god! How long do I have?

KITTRIDGE

Well, seeing as you have a much greater body mass than our friends in the fish kingdom -


OSCAR

How long?

KITTRIDGE

Ten, fifteen -

OSCAR

Days?

- minutes.

(beat)

Sorry.

KITTRIDGE

OSCAR

I have fifteen minutes to live and you're sorry?

KITTRIDGE

You won't feel a thing.

OSCAR

Oh, that's fantastic! Thank fucking

Christ for that!

KITTRIDGE

We Doctors call this the "anger" phase.

OSCAR

This isn't happening to me.

KITTRIDGE

That's the "denial" phase.

OSCAR

I'll give you anything you want... just... just make it go away, please!

KITTRIDGE

And that's the "bargaining" phase.

OSCAR

I'm not out of the anger yet! You're the doctor! Isn't there a pill or an injection, or an ointment?

KITTRIDGE

I could give you a broad spectrum antibiotic, but truth be told, most antibiotics have been so overprescribed that they're about as useful as Kool Aid nowadays.


OSCAR

There's gotta be something!

Kittridge thinks, then:

KITTRIDGE

The University does have an excellent bacterial study facility.

OSCAR

All right, let's go!

KITTRIDGE

It's across town. You hit that ten freeway in lunchtime traffic and you're as good as -

(stopping himself)

- they have a van they can send over to pick up your remains... it's very convenient.

OSCAR

Well goody fucking gumdrops! All these medicines and machines and things and all you're going to do is sit there and watch me die?

Kittridge ponders this for a moment, then:

KITTRIDGE

I guess I should call the Coast Guard and have them put up some "No

Swimming" signs.

OSCAR

That's the best you can do?

KITTRIDGE

Oscar, this may be a good time to consider what you're going to do with the rest of your life.

OSCAR

The rest of my life... sweet Jesus.

KITTRIDGE

You could call your parents.

Oscar falls back on the examination table, his arms spread out.

OSCAR

They're taking a walking tour of

Spain.

(MORE)


OSCAR (cont'd)

(beat)

They always wanted to travel when I was growing up. It's why I became a travel agent.

Anyone else?

KITTRIDGE

OSCAR

Of course there's someone else! I have plenty of other people in my life. People who love me that I want to say good-bye to.

(beat)

I do.

Oscar breaks out an address book, he scans a few pages, as if not certain who he is going to call.

Spotting a number, Oscar finally picks up the phone.

KITTRIDGE

Is that a local call?

Oscar gives Kittridge a sour look. Kittridge backs off apologetically. Oscar dials.

OSCAR

Hi. Barbara. Oscar Daniels. Oscar.

Daniels. We had that lunch a few weeks ago. You were wearing that blue blouse.

(a smile)

Yes, yes. That was me with the brown hair, yes. No, we don't have to do it again yet if you don't. I was just calling to let you know that it was a really nice date and it has been a long time since I went out on a date with somebody like that -

Oscar listens to the phone as if he has been cut off. His expression turns, then, flatly:

OSCAR (CONT'D)

It wasn't a date.

(beat)

Okay. No... it's okay, I don't have to hold. I'll just call you later.

Yeah, all right. Bye. Oscar hangs up the phone.

KITTRIDGE

That didn't go well.


Oscar turns to look at Kittridge.

OSCAR

All my life I spent sitting in this tiny little office... staring at a

Cathode Ray Tube and talking on a phone. And every time some vanillacolored lardass showed up and booked one of their piddly little trips to some prefab cheesy McDonald's fast food beach resort, I laughed at them for being so uncreative. "When I get my chance," I'd say, "I'm going to go somewhere much better than you."

(beat)

I always had this dream of going somewhere really big. Of doing things that normal people would never dream of.

(beat)

Now it looks like I'm going to die exactly like I lived. Moved by this young man's plight, Kittridge pulls up a chair.

KITTRIDGE

Have a seat, Oscar.

Oscar sits down, tentatively.

KITTRIDGE (CONT'D)

I once came very close to dying, and I learned something. Something that has served me as a panacea in times of trouble and distress.

What was it?

OSCAR

Kittridge pauses, the memories coalescing in his head:

KITTRIDGE

Leslie and I were throwing ourselves a little shindig and she neglected to buy Vodka - which she did because she always resented my desire to really tie one on every once in a while.

(MORE)


KITTRIDGE (cont'd)

So I'm at the liquor store parking lot, juggling the big plastic jug of

Popov and the ice I got because being

Leslie's husband I instinctively knew she didn't buy enough, and I notice that standing behind me was the biggest stinking Mexican I'd ever seen.

Kittridge pulls out his flask while Oscar measures common courtesy against the ticking clock on his life.

KITTRIDGE (CONT'D)

With his great meat hook of an arm, he stuck a shiv in my gut, pinched my wallet, and shucked me in the trunk of my lime green 1973 Ford Grand Torino.

Thinking quickly, I poured the ice and alcohol over my bleeding torso, hoping for a combination antiseptic and cryogenic effect.

OSCAR

Is this the part where you learn the thing?

KITTRIDGE

As lay there, I wondered what I would have changed had I known this was my last day on Earth... I wished my last conversation with Leslie had not been a fight over a beverage. I wished I had eaten some chocolate. And I thought it would have been nifty to have run out my credit cards on mail order gifts which my friends and family would receive in eight to ten weeks and would really surprise them what with them thinking I'm dead and all.

By now, Oscar's impatience with the length, excessive detail, and deliberate pacing of Kittridge's story is beginning to surface...

OSCAR

Doctor, where exactly is this going?

KITTRIDGE

Also, I always wanted to jump off a building because it's never really been resolved whether you really are conscious all the way down.

(MORE)


KITTRIDGE (cont'd)

But in the end, I would have been happy getting myself some really good weed and a bottle of hooch like I did in that whorehouse in Panama all those years ago. Then I saw a tunnel of bright celestial light. In that tunnel I could see the forms of my late mother and father, and uncle Herb with the beaver-tail-shaped lump on the side of his head. In the glow of their friendship and warmth, I found myself looking at the great floating head of a bearded man who told me that he had a message that would make sense of all the vicissitudes of life and bring clarity where there was only darkness. So I fell prostrate before this presence and I begged him to give me these holy words.

OSCAR

What did he say already?

KITTRIDGE

I heard the word "clear!" the floating head receded into darkness like the iris in a Bugs Bunny cartoon, and I came to in the ER. Apparently the ice and alcohol saved my life. So I chalked up the out of body experience to an hallucination and got on with my life.

(beat)

I am an atheist, you know.

Oscar considers the doctor's words, carefully, then:

OSCAR

YOU ARE THE WORST DOCTOR WHO EVER

WALKED THE EARTH!

Oscar shoots out of his chair and out the door, then:

OSCAR (CONT'D)

Those fifteen minutes, when did they start?

Kittridge reaches for the chart and looks through his notes.

Well... I...

KITTRIDGE


OSCAR

Oh never mind!

Oscar barrels out of the office, ranting and tearing off his jacket and going to work on his necktie...

EXT. DR. KITTRIDGE’S OFFICE - CITY STREET - DAY

Oscar rushes out, runs as fast as he can. He finally comes to a stop before a bus bench and plops down, taking a deep breath before going back to work on his tie.

A beautiful woman we will call HELENA walks up to the bench. She sees Oscar and smiles.

Oscar returns the smile, then finishes off his necktie and tosses it out onto the street.

HELENA

Bad day, huh?

Oscar tries to figure out what to say, but settles for a gesture that is equal parts sigh and shrug.

HELENA (CONT'D)

Yeah. Me too. Makes me wish I could just take off and go somewhere exotic.

I've always dreamt about traveling somewhere exotic and far away.

(beat)

My friends keep telling me I should date a travel agent.

This perks Oscar up considerably.

Excuse me?

OSCAR

HELENA

Sure. Then we could go anywhere we wanted to go. Spain. France. Kuala

Lumpur.

(beat)

I'd have a good man, and cheap tickets.

OSCAR

Where have you been all my life?

HELENA

You're not a travel agent, are you?

Oscar looks at the Woman, considering his options, then:


OSCAR

You know, at one point in my life I would have said yes to that question.

But now... things are different.

HELENA

I don't understand.

OSCAR

What can I tell you?

(beat)

One day I got sick of booking other people on their little trips. So one day I took a step out of that cramped little shithole they called a travel office and LIVED, you know?

HELENA

Really?

OSCAR

I took a big bite out of life and crapped out the adventure of a lifetime.

(beat)

Yeah. I could have rested on my laurels after I conquered K2, but then

I never would had the chance to give

Everest the butt kicking it so rightfully deserves. Hell, I told that little brown Sherpa that I didn't need his stinking oxygen tank, and he shook my hand. Yeah, I could have called it quits then, sure, but after

I played Elephant Polo in Bramaputra with a severed coolie's head for a ball and made the Rajah's men beg for mercy, I knew that I was destined to be a force of nature: a raving, unstoppable human tsunami.

As Oscar's delivery becomes more and more intense, he grabs

Helena by her arms.

She seems taken by his narrative and goes along.


OSCAR

Let me tell you something, baby. I'd be a vain little man if I asked you to be impressed that I hunted Boar in the

Amazon with nothing but a switchblade and a loincloth, and I'd be as venal as the sorriest little weekend warrior if I expected you to consider being amazed that I stood on a rusting fishing scow on the shores of the

Galapagos and joined in victorious conflict with a primordial tentacled kraken, and I'd be a lowdown dirty braggart if I mentioned that learned how to love in a Tantric monastery on the muddy banks of lake Titicaca. So the only thing I'm going to say is this: you don't want a travel agent - you don't need a travel agent. You've seen the man of your dreams, and his name is Oscar Daniels!

Oscar kisses Helena passionately. She gives into the kiss completely, then, as he comes up for air.

HELENA

You did all those things?

OSCAR

And I still have on final heroic act in me.

What is it?

HELENA

Oscar looks at her mischievously - then takes a step back into the street:

AND INTO THE PATH OF AN INCOMING BUS

HOOOOOOOOOOOONK! BANG! SCREECH!

Helena RECOILS.

Passers-by STOP and GAWK.

Traffic comes to a halt as the soundscape fills with mortified CHATTER as the street coalesces into a rubbernecking mob.

Helena recedes back from the developing scene. A hand reaches into frame and touches her shoulder:

Doctor Kittridge.


KITTRIDGE

Nurse Miller.

HELENA

He...he jumped.

KITTRIDGE

(bowing his head)

I know. I know.

(then)

But I’m glad you found him.

Helena takes this in, then:

HELENA

Yeah. I think he was too.

KITTRIDGE

I think you gave him something.

(off her nod)

Remind me to put a bonus on your paycheck this month.

Kittridge squires Helena back into the building, as they walk:

HELENA

Believe me, I will.

(then)

And you'd better be right about that big herpie on his head.

KITTRIDGE

I'm sure it's not contagious... You didn't kiss him or anything, right?

Helena gives Kittridge a "you devil" laugh as she enters the building...

Kittridge returns the laugh... but off his ambivalent expression as Helena goes in, and he turns to look at the accident scene on the street...

CUT TO OSCAR’S BODY

LYING PRONE ON THE ROAD

Covered in blood. Surrounded by onlookers as PARAMEDICS arrive.

A smile on his face.


As the paramedics call time of death...

CUT TO BLACK

OVER BLACK: The Pharmacodildonic Effect

A BURST OF STATIC RESOLVES INTO A

45.

VIDEO IMAGE:

Of HARLEY, a woman in her mid-thirties.

HARLEY

Because of my job as a news reporter,

I'm much more comfortable talking to the camera than to someone like a therapist. And I don't want therapy.

The people I come from don't get therapy. I can't imagine talking about this to anybody. It's so... private.

PULL OUT TO REVEAL

That she is on the side-mounted monitor of a video camera on a tripod at:

INT. HARLEY AND MICHAEL’S HOME - DAY

Harley can be seen just beyond, sitting on a stool.

PUSH IN on Harley, revealing a picture of herself with

MICHAEL, her Ken doll of a husband.

HARLEY

I've always thought happiness was like a fish tank. Transparent, but impenetrable. I figured that unhappiness was just a constant thing in my life and that all that's required of me is that I suck it up and get through. A couple of weeks ago I mentioned this to Dr. Kittridge, who suggested that I start taking

PDTHM-O.

(after a moment)

Polyditetrahexamono-octazine. It's an experimental anti-depressant that he's developing.

(then)

(MORE)


HARLEY (cont'd)

What if it turns me into someone different? I don't want to be someone other than me, even if it is someone happy. But Michael's made it clear he wants me to. I think it has to do with what I finally told him yesterday.

INT. BAR - NIGHT

MICHAEL, Harley’s ken doll of a husband, nurses a scotch, talks to an unseen friend sitting beside him.

MICHAEL

Five years of marriage, and Harley finally tells me that she hasn't had an orgasm. Not with me anyway. And she's not exactly the kind to touch herself. She's kind of wound. That doesn't mean we don't have sex. There was one week there when we just...

(beat)

...we have our careers and we're both very driven and all. Hell we met on the job, but we enjoy each other's company, if you catch my drift. At least that's what I thought.


Dr. Kittridge listens while Harley speaks:

HARLEY

Michael can't see that my being depressed has nothing to do with it.

That's just another part of who I am.

He doesn't understand that it's not like I didn't want it or enjoy it.

It's just that he's so... so much more result-oriented than I am.


MICHAEL

And then she tells me that it doesn't matter because all that... stuff I did to her felt good even if she didn't -

(beat)

What's that supposed to mean?

(MORE)


MICHAEL (cont'd)

It's like saying that it's okay that she never had the entree, the bread was good enough. No, worse, it's watching me eat was good enough. Does she think that all that I was doing work for me? Was she just humoring me? I know she's depressed and all.

I'm a sensitive guy. I put up with more brooding and carrying on that you can shake a stick at.

(then)

But now it feels like our whole marriage is based on a lie that she tells to make me feel good. I don't need to be lied to have self esteem.

If I'd known... I would have worked harder to make it happen for her. I would have done whatever I had to do to get her there. It's not like I can't, you know. I work out. And what about when I faked it? Not that

I have to fake it. I was just sacrificing because I thought she was tired. I thought, you know, the jig is up, get outta Dodge. She's that good an actress.

(beat)

She's taking the drug and that's it.

STATIC BURST TRANSITION TO

VIDEO IMAGE: HARLEY

HARLEY

I watched the news reports when Prozac came out. I used to look at all of those people saying things like "I took Prozac and now I feel the way I always thought regular people feel." I don't know about that. I really don't know how regular people feel... but now that I've started taking

Polydietrahexamono-octazine...

(beat)

...I actually had an hour of unbroken happiness. It just descended on me.

Like a fog. I smiled. I stood outside myself and said, "wipe that stupid smile off your face." But that stupid smile wouldn't go away no matter how hard I tried. It was nice.

(beat)

(MORE)


HARLEY (cont'd)

In other news, Dr. Kittridge warned me that I may lose my sex drive as a side effect of the drug. As you can imagine, I didn't exactly share that little tidbit with Michael.

(beat)

But the weird thing is, ever since I had that unbroken moment of happiness

I've had a real craving. Michael thinks I'm just trying to act enthusiastic because of what I told him, but I have an unbearable, heavy feeling. Like depth charges are falling one by one into my body and

I'm going to die if they don't go off.

I know I really should talk to Dr.

Kittridge, but then... what if he takes me off the drug?

(beat)

I don't want to stop smiling like that, even if I have to suffer some kind of unforeseen nymphomaniacal side effect. I don't think Michael's going to mind. No... no, I really should alert Dr. Kittridge, I really ought to...

Harley looks off to the side, it is clear that her craving is getting the best of her judgment:

HARLEY

Michael? Are you home?

Yeah honey.

MICHAEL'S VOICE

Harley looks at the camera, then off the frame, then back at the camera.

HARLEY

Dr. Kittridge can wait. Excuse me.

Harley leans forward and turns the camera off.

CUT TO BLACK

INT. MICHAEL AND HARLEY’S HOUSE - NIGHT

Michael speaks furtively into the phone:

MICHAEL

Whatever that guy Kittridge gave to

Harley's made her crazy. I mean, wow.

(MORE)


MICHAEL (cont'd)

I've never heard her scream like that before. I mean I have, but unlike those other times it's never been this... real. It's not like I can't tell, you know.



HARLEY

It's never been like this before. The release. The wonderful, peaceful sensation... that incredible moment right in the middle of it when I opened my eyes and every notion I ever had of space and time and context broke apart around me and after a long, sliding ride through a tunnel of multi colored wind, I was engulfed by this choking, pea-soup fog through which I saw a huge machine: a gigantic conglomeration of tubes, pipes, valves and engines, all of them covered in a viscous green and brown slime, and tended to by ugly little pig-like creatures.

(beat)

They never said anything in Cosmo about that.

A long pause, then.

HARLEY

No. I'm not going to tell Dr.

Kittridge. I should be freaked out, but I'm not. At any other time in my life I would have been a nervous wreck... but there's something compelling about it. I just want to explore it... and there seems to be only one way to do that...

Harley looks to the side:

HARLEY (CONT'D)

Michael!

Harley runs off.



MICHAEL

I am convinced that this is the best drug ever created by the medical establishment. Harley is happy, and peppy...

(beat)

...and she seems to be on a mission to drain my body of all fluids.

Michael’s cell phone rings - he looks at the readout:

MICHAEL

...but a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do, right?

Michael puts a bill on the bar.

MICHAEL

Keep the change, I’m getting lucky.



HARLEY

I'm starting to hear the pig-like creatures speak. It's hard to make it out because I can only look into their world for a few seconds at a time.

It's like it comes into focus in front of me for a little while and then it slips away. The pig-like creatures talk simultaneously in this weird language. It sounds like they communicate in some kind of mathematical code, and yet I get this feeling like they're trying to tell me something.

(beat)

It's dark where the pig-like creatures live. They're very grim. Everything they own is covered in a foul-smelling brown, green scum and they have to wear rubber gloves and aprons at all times.

(beat)

The last time I was there one of the pig-like creatures looked straight at me. I can't get the image out of my head.

(MORE)


HARLEY (cont'd)

He was standing on a rusted-out scaffold, wrenching a hexagonal nut the size of a human head onto one of thousands of slime-covered screws holding together that huge refinery thing he lives on...and the moment I caught his eye I noticed that he was crying. Like the Indian on the littered beach in those ads they used to have in the 1970's.


MICHAEL

We were at work yesterday and Harley pulled me into a closet. I was supposed to be getting ready to anchor the 6:30 newscast, but we wound up spending a whole hour in there. Right in the middle of our third time her eyes rolled into her head and she got a nosebleed.

(beat)

I wanted to stop but she begged me not to. So I reached out to try to clean her up a little 'cause the sight of her was grossing me out, and I noticed that she wasn't really bleeding.

Coming out of her nose was this really foul smelling green and brown slime.

It just kept pouring out of there.

Harley said it was just a side effect of the Polyditetrahexamono-octazine and ordered me to keep going. And going. And going.

(beat)

I'm going to have to invest in a tranquilizer gun.



HARLEY

He speaks English. The pig-like creature I saw crying the other day.

He said "Harley." He told me that he has been watching me. He says he can see me when Michael and I -

(beat)

(MORE)


HARLEY (cont'd)

- hey, if you think it's weird that

I'm talking to some kind of a pig creature who only appears to me in a hallucination when I'm having an orgasm, you should consider how much weirder it is that he's only seen me naked.

(beat)

Thing is, it doesn't seem to faze him or me a bit. Yesterday I was there for a few minutes. I sat on the scaffold with him.

(beat)

He has this wounded little voice, like something's been torn up inside of him, like he's seen hundreds, thousands like him dying. Like it wasn't always like this for him.

(beat)

I want to spend more time with him.


Michael is dishevelled. The novelty has clearly worn off.

MICHAEL

I've had an injury. I had to go to the ER yesterday with a bandage wrapped around my...

(beat)

It's something called a "repetitive cutaneous friction injury." The ER doctor said I had this weird browngreen stuff on me that made it worse.

Gave me some kind of an infection.

The doctor says I shouldn't have sex until I've healed.

(beat)

On the way back from the ER, Harley was talking about these pig-like creatures who work in a giant, dark, dirty underground factory. I told her she's been watching too many Porky Pig cartoons.

(beat)

Anyway, she hasn't spoken to me since.




HARLEY

My friend on the machine says he knows what it feels like to be depressed.

He knows that my world is a lot happier now than it's ever been. He took his hand out of his rubber glove.

It's a furry little thing with four sausages for fingers. He put it on my shoulder. He says I should be happy for the small taste of happiness, of contentment that I'm getting.

(beat)

When he touched me with that living cartoon of a hand of his I actually feel at peace. For that moment it was like I could fall asleep in his arms.

Even in that ugly, filth covered balcony on the big machine he seems like the most understanding creature

I've ever known.


MICHAEL

I've been replaced... by an appliance.

She spends all day locked in a room with it. She's been calling in sick to work all week. The station manager's going to fire her, and it makes me look pretty bad as her husband that I can't control her absenteeism.

(beat)

I called Dr. Kittridge. He says that

Harley was suffering from what Doctors call a "Pharmacodildonic effect."

It's extremely rare. In fact, no one's ever experienced it before.

(beat)

This Kittridge guy's a real piece of work. He calmly sits there and tells me that other than turning my wife into a raving vibrator jockey, this is the best anti depressant drug ever devised.

(beat)

She's getting off the drug and that's it.




HARLEY

I finally asked my friend why he has such a bad life. Why he lives in such an awful place. He dropped a bomb on me. He told me that the reason his world got this way is because of drugs like Polyditetrahexamono-octazine.

(beat)

I don't understand it either, but it has something to do with conservation of energy. All the negative, depressive energy has to go somewhere once its taken out from the human mind. It's like our drugs have opened some kind of a psychic gateway, and all of the human depression going through is polluting his world. Their machine is the only thing that keep their environment going, and even they can't keep up.

(beat)

My friend told me that

Polyditetrahexamono-octazine will be the final nail on their coffin. It's going to open the gate too wide. And then they'll all die. I'm the only person whose brain chemistry has allowed for communication between us and them.

(beat)

I told him I'm not going to stop taking the drug. Look, I'm not stupid. I know this isn't normal, but there has to be some kind of way of making this thing work so that both of us can survive - but I'm not going off the drug. I couldn't see him if I stopped, and this is the most interesting thing that's ever happened to me and I'm not going to give it up!

(beat)

Yes I'm having sex with him! So what?

It's not really sex, it's the opposite of sex because I have to have sex to get there, okay? It's something completely different!



MICHAEL

I had an intervention. I didn't have anybody in from the station, of course. I have my job to think about, so it was a small affair, mostly friends of mine. Anyway, she sat clutching that grotesque plug-in thing of hers... and when we tried to pry it away from her she jumped through the living room window and ran screaming into the street. I've kept that part of it from our boss, but she's been suspended anyway.

(beat)

I've hired a private investigator to find her and a lawyer to sue Dr.

Kittridge.

INT. INDUSTRIAL SPACE - NIGHT

Harley crouches in a corner, shedding tears and talking to herself as if the camera were still in front of her.

HARLEY

He's dead. I was there for as long as

I could be until I passed out. The last thing he said was that I did this to him. The others won't speak to me now. They're too busy working the machine. I think they all know they are going to die.

(beat)

Maybe I was right. Maybe unhappiness is something we should just suck up without sending our crap to someone else's world.

(beat)

I spent the night walking through the city, looking - really looking - at the people, and the brown neon mush that passes for the night sky in this city.

(beat)

Maybe depression is the only sane response to our own world.


INT. NEWS STUDIO - DAY

His collar protected by tissues, Michael talks to the MAKE

UP ARTIST applying the final touches to his face as he takes his seat behind the Anchor desk.

MICHAEL

We found Harley yesterday. Holed up in an abandoned oil refinery. After what she did, I'm sure it was the only place she could hide.

(beat)

Of course she's got fired. My attorneys said me that I should give it a few months before I file against her. Our public image is too important to sacrifice -

The Make Up takes off the tissues lining Michael’s collar.

As a WARDROBE PERSON hands Michael a Jacket -



HARLEY

I asked for a camera as a therapeutic tool. They're being very sympathetic, considering what I did.

(beat)

Dr. Kittridge even vouched for my insanity and isn't going to press any charges.


VIDEO IMAGE: MICHAEL BEHIND THE ANCHOR DESK

His clothes, voice and demeanor are now crisp and professional as he presents himself with a News Anchor’s dignty and authority:

MICHAEL

... and on a personal note, I am going to be taking a leave of absence from my duties as anchorperson on this station.

(MORE)


MICHAEL (cont'd)

As you have already heard on this broadcast, my wife, news reporter

Harley Green, was shot and wounded yesterday when she attempted to murder

Dr. Elias Kittridge at the University

Hospital.



HARLEY

Polyditetrahexamono-octazine research is stopped for now. Dr. Kittridge says he has to spend some time studying the drug's weird effect on me before he continues to develop the drug. But I think he just wants to bury me. I'm an embarrassment to him, and Michael.

Michael steps in front of the camera again, still in

Anchorperson mode.


VIDEO IMAGE: MICHAEL BEHIND THE ANCHOR DESK

MICHAEL

...My wife's bizarre behavior, which included the burning down of Dr.

Kittridge's lab, has come as a shock to all of us here and I would like to thank you for all of your phone calls of support. I assure you that Harley and myself will weather this crisis and return to the airwaves in due time. And speaking of weather, our very own Slappy McPherson is here with the three day forecast for the...



HARLEY

I'm not too worried about Kittridge, though. As soon as my pregnancy comes to term, I'm going to make another run at him.

(beat)

(MORE)

Concertos For Double Helix

HARLEY (cont'd)

I'm not sure if it really is a pregnancy. It's more like a brown and green amniotic sac that's growing around the bullet wound to my stomach.

As Harley speaks -

5/10/12 58.

PULL BACK TO REVEAL

- that the camera is inside a padded cell, dressed in a hospital gown, her hands tied to the seat of a chair.

HARLEY

I haven't had the heart to tell

Michael who the father is. I have a feeling that either he won't care or he'll be relieved, so I'm just going to sit here and talk to the camera for a while. All I have to do is suck it up, and bide my time.

Harley nods, resolved. As her nodding turns into a gentle, back and forth rocking motion...

STATIC BURST TO BLACK

OVER BLACK: The Skippy Redundancy

FADE IN

INT. THE HOME OF JAMES “SKIPPY” SINCLAIR - STUDY - DAY

SKIPPY (early 30’s) is fairly buttoned-down and uptight young man who in another time would have been described as a "yuppie."

Although Skippy is writing a letter on a word processor, he recites the text as a monologue, as do all of the subsequent characters.

SKIPPY

Dear Dr. Kittridge:

(beat)

I am writing this letter to inquire as to the whereabouts of several people who were artificially grown in vats from fragments of genetic material taken from my brain tissue.

(beat)

As a young man I was enrolled in a series of scientific experiments by my financially challenged parents as documented by the enclosed paperwork.

(MORE)


SKIPPY (cont'd)

One of these experiments involved the cloning of tissue painfully extracted from my cranium. I even have the scars to prove it.

(a chuckle, then)

My discovery of their whereabouts is of the utmost importance to me as I currently find myself in need of an organ transplant. It only stands to reason that finding what one might deem a "long lost twin brother" would be of the essence to insure my future survival. Thank you, in advance, for your help in this (life or death) matter.

(beat)

Sincerely, James "Skippy" Sinclair

Dayton, Ohio


Kittridge dictates his letter into a microcassette recorder:

DR. KITTRIDGE

Dear Mr. Sinclair:

(beat)

You'll forgive me for not using the less formal "Skippy," but I have to give you some bad news. I am afraid that the records for the experiment you speak of were tightly sealed by us to prevent the very same situation in which you intend to place us. As you may recall, there was quite a “hoohah” about the possibility of our growing human beings strictly for the use of other human beings as organ donors. While we at Our Lady of the

Obvious Christian Metaphor certainly hope that you will choose our hospital for your future health care needs, I am quite afraid that I simply cannot be of any assistance.

(beat)

Yours in good health, Dr. Kittridge


SKIPPY

Dr. Kittridge:

(beat)

(MORE)


SKIPPY (cont'd)

You'll forgive me for not using the traditional "Dear" in my greeting, but

I find your cavalier attitude toward my predicament somewhat, well, cavalier. I am a human being dying a slow and agonizing death and am appealing to your higher instincts of mercy. As my body begins to fall apart, system by system, and I can feel the very life blood draining from me I beg you, I beg every noble instinct that brought you to this profession to reconsider your position.

(beat)

Yours in ill health, James Sinclair.


Kittridge holds Skippy’s letter, reading. He shakes his head, then balls it up and tosses it into a trash can.


Trying to keep his growing annoyance at bay, Skippy begins another letter:

SKIPPY

Dear Dr. Kittridge:

(beat)

As I pointed out in my first letter, my parents were financially challenged when they signed me up for the medical experiments I mentioned. I, however, am in a position to endow a new wing to the medical facility of your choice. In the event that the medical facility of your choice should be your own home, I am certain that even the small addition of a therapeutic whirlpool bath would be a welcome addition to your practice of the healing arts -


Dr. Kittridge reads this letter and perks up considerably.

He pulls out his microcassette recorder:


DR. KITTRIDGE

Dear Skippy:

(beat)

Thanks to recent amendments to the...

(to himself)

Um...uh...

(finding the right lie)

...Freedom of Information Act...I am finally able to right a dreadful wrong and release the names of... An excited

Skippy takes over.


SKIPPY

To: Chris Solomon San Francisco,

California Dear Chris:

(beat)

Thank you for your prompt reply to my query about the organ transplant. I am afraid that the reference in your letter, to your husband Neil threw me for quite a loop. I am now convinced that a great mistake has been made, since it is scientifically impossible for the clone of one person to be of a different sex than the original tissue donor. I hope you will forgive my...

INT. THE HOME OF CHRIS SOLOMON - DAY

CHRIS SOLOMON - played by the same actor as Skippy, being a clone and all - is a cheerful preppy not entirely unlike

Skippy.

Chris writes with a fountain pen:

CHRIS

Skippy:

(beat)

I have to be honest with you, no mistake has been made, the reality is that I am both male...

(proudly displaying a wedding band)

...and have a husband. I hope that this does not throw you for a loop, but as the enclosed test results demonstrate, my chromosomes are certainly skewed toward this particular lifestyle.

(MORE)


CHRIS (cont'd)

Since we share the same chromosomes there is the very distinct possibility that you and I have traits in common which go far beyond compatible kidneys and you simply are not aware of them.

In an almost incredible coincidence, I happen to refer to my Neil as

"Skippy..."

SMASH CUT TO


SKIPPY

Dr. Kittridge:

(beat)

You doddering old fool! Obviously a mistake has been made, and I cannot begin to describe the agony you have put me and my lovely and talented wife

Wendy through thanks to this misunderstanding. Make no mistake, I intend on putting a stop payment on the check...

SMASH CUT TO

EXT. DR. KITTRIDGE’S HOUSE - DAY

Dr. Kittridge sits in a hot tub, concern on his face as he dictates:

DR. KITTRIDGE

My Dear Skippy:

(beat)

In all deference to you and the lovely

Wendy, the names of the clones I gave you are all correct. You might do well to check up on the remaining clones to prove the verity of my claim. Since you were not as rigorously tested for your vital statistics when you were cloned, you can lay all of your own fears about your own orientation to rest by submitting to a chromosome scan of your own. By the way, what does it matter whether you or your clones have a different dating preference than one another when it is your life that hangs in the balance?



SKIPPY

Dr. Kittridge:

(beat)

I will have you know that I am currently waiting for word from my two other clones and I am so certain that

I will be vindicated in my masculinity that I will not submit to your piddly chromosome scan. As far as my organ transplant - I'll have you know you've been had and I am in perfect physical health and was only looking for my identical twins for a practical joke I was going to play on a buddy of mine that I used to wrestle with in

College.

(then, defensively)

Competitively. I won't bore you with the details, suffice it to say that I am awaiting the responses of my two other clones, named Arthur and Bucky, and believe, duly, that their responses will be more than enough to debunk my so-called twin brother Chris once and for all.

(beat)

Yours in incredible, rough-hewn manliness, Skippy.

INT. DRAG CLUB DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT

This place makes the set for “Torch Song Trilogy” look like an Army Barracks. Arthur, Skippy’s second clone, recites his letter to a mirror as he puts the finishing touches on his make-up and writes with an ornate quill pen:

Dear Skippy:

ARTHUR

(beat)

Oh yes I am, so very much. I hope that it doesn't come as a shock to you if you have not come to the same realization. Luckily I was raised by parents who were notified of my chromosome skew when I was born and raised me in an encouraging, open and free environment...

SMASH CUT TO



Skippy balls up the letter from Arthur and throws it across the room. He then opens a second letter, as he reads:

INTERCUT WITH

EXT. WOODS - DAY

Where another Skippy clone, BUCKY, a tough, rough-hewn type in plaid flannel, faded jeans, shitkicker boots and a

Grizzly Adams beard, writes his letter in pencil on a Biig

Chief notebook:

BUCKY

Skippy:

(beat)

After five years of marriage to a gorgeous, down-home country gal...

SKIPPY

Yes...

BUCKY

...and a very fulfilling career as a lumberjack...

Yes! Yes!

SKIPPY

BUCKY

...I can't begin to tell you what a revelation your letter has been. Like a dark well, bubbling inside of me your news about my chromosome skew has brought to the surface so many things that I have suspected about myself for so long but have never had the...If only someone had told me before my entire life...

SMASH CUT TO SKIPPY

SCREAMING, ripping the letter to tiny shreds. As he does...

CUT TO

INT. THE HOME OF JAMES “SKIPPY” SINCLAIR - KITCHEN - DAY

Skippy’s wife, WENDY, writes her letter on a notepad from the kitchen counter.


WENDY

Dear Dr. Kittridge:

(beat)

It is imperative that I speak to you, seeing as my husband seems to be having some sort of a breakdown before my very eyes...the only thing that I have been able to glean from him, since he seems to have gone completely monosyllabic is that he has been undergoing some kind of kidney trouble.

As Wendy speaks, a very ragged looking Skippy walks wordlessly through the background, wearing a bathrobe and three day stubble, opens the fridge, takes out a beer and walks off.

WENDY (CONT’D)

Skippy has never been one to talk too openly, but now, as we have set out to start a family and raise a "Little

Skippy" of our own, I feel as if his reticence is a sign of something greater...

INTERCUT WITH

EXT. WOODS - DAY

Bucky sits on a stump, writing two letters:

Dear Chris:

(then)

Dear Arthur:

(beat)

BUCKY

It has recently come to my attention that we may be twin brothers, in which case I would very much like to meet you and discuss some of the experiences that you may have had...

WENDY

...so, Dr. Kittridge, if you may be so kind as to shed any light on my husband's condition before there is a complete breakdown in our relationship and in the future possibility of a

Little Skippy I would be...

CUT TO


INT. THE HOME OF JAMES “SKIPPY” SINCLAIR - STUDY - NIGHT

Skippy sits balled up in a corner, writing on a legal pad:

SKIPPY

Dear Abby:

(beat)

Lately I have been having a strange dream in which I am riding a Zeppelin through a dark field populated exclusively by gigantic floating statues of Michelangelo's "David."

What does it all mean?

(beat)

Signed, Dreaming in Dayton.

INT. THE HOME OF JAMES “SKIPPY” SINCLAIR - KITCHEN - DAY

WENDY

Dear Dr. Kittridge:

(beat)

I am begging you to release to me whatever information on my husband you may have. I know that you have a busy schedule and that may have kept you from responding to my prior letter, but my situation is dire, and my husband's mental stability seems on the brink of collapse...


Chris, Bucky and Arthur now all sit together, reading a newspaper, having a - dare I say it? - gay old time.

ARTHUR

(as if reading from a newspaper)

Dear Dreaming in Dayton:

(beat)

I think your dream is indicative of a deep, dark secret waiting to emerge, of something so great that you have been burying it...

Arthur, Bucky and Chris break out in LAUGHTER.



Skippy, still in his bathrobe and deteriorating, reads this in his newspaper, tosses it aside and rushes to his word processor:

SKIPPY

Dear Dayton Tribune:

(beat)

It is with great regret that I must cancel my subscription to your newspaper...


Chris writes while the other two clones chat in the background:

Dear Skippy:

CHRIS

(beat)

As I have made contact with both my twin brothers now, I had kind of hoped that you had been able to make some kind of peace with the reality of your...

SMASH CUT TO


SKIPPY

Listen Chris, I have no intention of claiming any similarity or birthright to you or your kind.

SMASH CUT TO

INT. THE HOME OF JAMES “SKIPPY” SINCLAIR - KITCHEN - NIGHT

WENDY

(In tears.)

Dear Dr. Kittridge:

(beat)

I have decided to leave my husband and have considered switching from the traditional medicine of doctors like yourself to the practice of homeopathy...



CHRIS

Dear, Dear, Skippy:

(beat)

Have you ever asked yourself if the thing you're so afraid of is the possibility of your own redundancy?

That you fear that three people exactly like you aren't running around in the dark, not truly knowing why they are who they are?


SKIPPY

I was the original and you and my socalled brothers are imperfect copies of the person I am.


All three clones are now writing letters:

BUCKY

Dear Dr. Kittridge:

(beat)

I am writing to ask for your help in the case of my long lost twin brother

Skippy. The poor man has no idea who or what he is...


WENDY

(continuing her letter to

Dr. Kittridge)

...I cannot abide by any man, any practitioner of healing who would consciously withhold valuable information from a patient's next of kin even when the patient's mental state depends on it.


ARTHUR

Dear Dr. Kittridge:

(beat)

(MORE)


ARTHUR (cont'd)

I'm sure you've heard by now about my darling, but confused, long lost twin brother Skippy... say is there any way

I could get you to have a little chit chat with the man?

CHRIS

(continuing his letter to

Skippy)

Arthur, Bucky and myself are quite aware of who we are and we're much different than you might imagine.

None of us want you to be anything other than what you are. We do worry about what you might do to yourself and everybody else if you ever decide to confront or not to confront the possibilities...

SMASH CUT TO


SKIPPY

I know who I am and I will not let any chromosomes tell me otherwise!


The three clones continue to write:

CHRIS

Dear Dr. Kittridge:

(beat)

I am writing to ask you about a patient of yours, Skippy, Sinclair...


WENDY

(to Kittridge)

I'll close by saying that I think you're an awful, awful man, Dr.

Kittridge.

SMASH CUT TO


CHRIS, BUCKY, ARTHUR - IN SPLIT SCREEN WINDOWS

CHRIS/BUCKY/ARTHUR

Dear Dr. Kittridge -

Chris, Bucky and Arthur then launch into separate letters

SIMULTANEOUSLY:

CHRIS

I am writing to follow up on my previous letter....

ARTHUR

Doctor, you naughty man! How dare you not respond...

BUCKY

Where I come from people answer their mail, Doctor...

As the three cacophonize -

SMASH CUT TO

INT. DR. KITTRIDGE’S OFFICE - NIGHT

Swamped with letters, Dr. Kittridge takes out his flask and is about to take a long pull of the liquor, before picking up his microcassette recorder:

DR. KITTRIDGE

Dear Mr. Sinclair:

(beat)

It is with the utmost regret that I inform you that I have made an error in my book keeping. Indeed, the clones whose names I gave you were not yours, but those of one... um... um...

John Sinclair...

Kittridge takes a long pull from the flask.

DR. KITTRIDGE

...in Daytona. Your clones, I am afraid, were never hatched by the experimental group for reasons of... um..

(Back to the letter.)

...redundancies in the number of people of similar genetic make-up to yours scheduled for the cloning program. I sincerely hope that I have not inconvenienced you in any way.

(MORE)


DR. KITTRIDGE (cont'd)

I will be sending copies of this letter to all of the other clones -

Kittridge takes another long pull from the flask, then, almost to himself:

KITTRIDGE

- so please leave the hell alone.

(a dismissive shrug) )

Yours in deep regret, Dr. Kittridge.


A delighted Skippy rushes around, clean shaven, wearing a fresh shirt and tie, which he knots up as he reaches for his word processor:

SKIPPY

My Dear Wendy:

(beat)

I'm sorry that I kept it all from you, but I feel that I can now tell you...

(beat)

...that my kidneys are fine. I know that this has brought out a great trust issue between us, but I finally feel that I can talk to you and anybody else about my condition. I am planning on traveling to your mother's home over the weekend and hope that you will speak to me, I think now, more than ever, you and I have a bright future together, because now more than ever I know exactly who it is that I truly am. If anything I can't wait for us to be back together because I finally feel as if our dream of a family can become a reality. I have great plans for a possible Little

Skippy, and I know now more than ever that we will not be disappointed.

(beat)

Love, Skippy.

Off Skippy’s delusional smile...

CUT TO BLACK

OVER BLACK: Reverse Parthenogenesis

FADE IN


INT. DR. KITTRIDGE’S OFFICE - CONSULTING ROOM - DAY

SAUL and JULIE WINSLOW - a young and symbiotic married couple - pace around the room. Nervous energy is clear in

Saul and Julie's every step.

Julie stops pacing to sit for a brief moment...

JULIE

This was a mistake.

...then stands to rejoin her husband in the pacing.

SAUL

Sweetheart... Taking the chromosome scan was your idea. This is what you wanted.

JULIE

I know, I know. And I'm sorry.

SAUL

Why are you sorry?

JULIE

It's just that... remember when we got married and I made you take all those tests...

SAUL

You didn't make me.

JULIE

No, I did. I made you take the herpes test, and the AIDS test, and that horrible... smear... and everything else...

SAUL

And I did it happily.

(beat)

Even the smear.

JULIE

But I don't want you to think I don't trust you.

SAUL

Enough with the trust thing, Julie.

We took the test and its over and it's over.

JULIE

So it's over.


SAUL

And done with.

JULIE

So it doesn't matter what the

Chromosome Scan tells us, because we trust each other.

SAUL

Exactly.

JULIE

And we love each other and we're going to have junior no matter what and that's that.

SAUL

I love you and I trust you and we're going to have junior no matter what and that's that.

JULIE

So let's leave before Dr. Kittridge comes back.

SAUL

Just like that?

JULIE

Just like that.

SAUL

Right. We step out and forget we ever did this.

You betcha.

JULIE

The two turn to go, then:

JULIE (CONT'D)

Wait.

(beat)

What if that's the mistake.

(beat)

Walking out. I don't want to make a mistake.

SAUL

Honey, we just settled that getting the test results was the mistake and that it's not a mistake until we make it.

(beat)

(MORE)


SAUL (cont'd)

If we walk out now, then technically, no one's made any mistakes.

JULIE

Let's go then.

SAUL

You sure?

JULIE

Yes, we just do it. We just walk out of here and that's the end of that.

SAUL

And we have junior the old fashioned way, without knowing.

JULIE

Just you and me without a net.

SAUL

Hold on.

(beat)

What was that about the net?

JULIE

No net.

SAUL

So we're in a net-free zone with this one.

JULIE

Yup.

SAUL

Okay then.

(beat)

So, um... what if something really is wrong with one of us?

JULIE

You know what? People have had babies for years without having chromosome scans.

SAUL

So you don't want to know if my chromosomes are screwy.

JULIE

I don't see anything wrong.


SAUL

So if we have a kid with three heads you're not going to hold it against me.

JULIE

No... we'll just love each head equally.

(a smile)

I mean it. There's a reason I asked you to marry me. As far as I'm concerned your gene pool is clean.

SAUL

Okay.

JULIE

But do promise me that when junior comes you'll do better with it than with Elmo.

Saul rolls his eyes.

SAUL

The cat was a dry run.

JULIE

Oh god, I hope not.

SAUL

I promise I'll do better with junior.

JULIE

Promise?

SAUL

Couldn't do much worse.

Julie doesn't know how to take this. Saul smiles at her.

After a pause, she returns the smile: a tender little smile between the two.

I love you.

SAUL (CONT'D)

JULIE

I love you too.

SAUL

Okay then. Let's make like a baby and head out.

(off her look)

Joke. What?


A VISIBLY ANXIOUS Dr. Kittridge enters.

KITTRIDGE

I... have the results of your chromosome scan.

Saul and Julie react simultaneously.

SAUL AND JULIE

What are they?

Kittridge keeps his distance, as if confronting a ghost.

The couple is beginning to share in the anxiety.

KITTRIDGE

You may want to sit down.

JULIE

Are you all right, Dr. Kittridge?

SAUL

Is her.

(defensively)

It's something the matter with her, isn't it?

JULIE

Saul!

SAUL

I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I didn't mean to... I love you, darling, even if there is something wrong with you.

A pause as all the sides size each other up. Kittridge looks at the couple, not knowing how to break this:

KITTRIDGE

Uh... Let me just tell you what I know. According to the chromosome scan, Julie is mildly depressive and has a tendency toward narcissism and overconsumption of material goods.

JULIE

My chromosomes told you that?

SAUL

Your chromosomes? My credit cards will tell you that.

JULIE

Saul!


I'm sorry.

SAUL

That's mean.

JULIE

SAUL

Hey it's in your chromosomes. It's not mean if its in the chromosomes.

Right doctor?

Julie sulks.

SAUL (CONT'D)

Honey, this isn't exactly bad news.

The way I see it is we get junior some therapy and credit and we're home free. This could all be so much worse

-

Kittridge turns to Saul, gravely:

KITTRIDGE

The problem is with you, Saul.

Saul takes a moment, brings a hand to his head, then walks away from Kittridge's desk.

SAUL

I'm impotent, aren't I? Christ, I knew it. I knew it. Fuck! Fuck.

I'm impotent. I'm impotent.

JULIE AND KITTRIDGE

You're not impotent.

Saul looks at his wife and doctor as they exchange befuddled looks, then:

SAUL

Oh this is just rich!

KITTRIDGE

Please sit down, Mr. Winslow, I beg you.

Saul takes a seat. Julie notices that the Doctor's anxiety grows with each passing second.

JULIE

Doctor, why are you shaking like that?

(beat)

Honey look, he's shaking.


SAUL

Yeah, that's really weird.

(beat)

Doctor, why are you shaking like that?

KITTRIDGE

Because I wish deep in my heart that a chromosome scan is not a definitive determiner of character.

JULIE

Does that mean I'm not narcissistic?

Kittridge shrugs nervously.

See?

JULIE (CONT'D)

(to Saul)

KITTRIDGE

Mr. Winslow. Saul. We found a something in your chromosomes... something that has never been encountered before in the field of science.

Saul leans in, trying to get more out of the Doctor.

SAUL

Yeah... and...

KITTRIDGE

Saul Winslow.

(beat)

You are the Antichrist.

Excuse me?

SAUL

KITTRIDGE

Spawn of Satan. King of Evil. Six six six.

JULIE

I think we understand the concept, it's just that...

(beat)

...the idea that Saul here could be the Antichrist is a little crazy, that's all.


KITTRIDGE

I assure you that I am perfectly sane.

Everything I am saying is completely based on scientific fact.

Saul stands.

SAUL

This is ridiculous.

Kittridge springs up, wielding a crucifix.

KITTRIDGE

The power of the lord commands you!

The power of the lord commands you!

SAUL

Doctor, what is your -

KITTRIDGE

As I walk through the valley of death

I shall fear no evil - the lord is my

Shepherd, I shall not stray!

Kittridge's agitation grows into full blown hyperventilation.

Julie steps eases the Doctor into a chair.

JULIE

Get a hold of yourself, doctor.

KITTRIDGE

Don't let him near me...

Saul holds up his hands and takes a step back, trying not to exacerbate the doctor's condition as he speaks:

SAUL

Doctor, not to cast any aspersions here, but if it were scientifically possible to determine that someone is the Antichrist from a chromosome test... I think I would have heard of it... they would have had it on NPR...

KITTRIDGE

Julie. How long have I been your doctor?

JULIE

Since I was a little girl.


KITTRIDGE

Have I ever struck you as being unbalanced?

SAUL

Apart from this little freakout attack?

KITTRIDGE

Have I ever shown anything but the best intentions?

SAUL

Honey, this man is clearly having some kind of insane delusion.

JULIE

Saul. Don't make it any worse.

SAUL

Worse? He's having a psychotic episode!

JULIE

I'm not saying he isn't.

SAUL

So why are we still here?

JULIE

(hushed)

Dr. Kittridge used to give me lollipops, so cut him a little slack.

SAUL

He just said I'm the Antichrist!

Kittridge finds his center, breathing out the words:

KITTRIDGE

Just hear me out, please.

SAUL

Hey, Julie. There's the door, let's go give it a try!

KITTRIDGE

For years scientists have theorized about a genetic marker for the anointed bringer of the world's destruction...

(then)

(MORE)


KITTRIDGE (cont'd)

...a marker that has been identified as the Sequenced Anomalous Tangential

Antijehovan Nucleotide.

(beat)

I never believed because I always thought that my calling was to find new ways of helping people, not to chase down the hallways of science looking for theological conundrums...

Kittridge sits down, still clutching his crucifix.

SAUL

And that chromosome scan of yours told you I have that thing in me.

(off Kittridge’s nod)

All right, Dr. Kittridge, I'm only going to say this once, because I feel sad seeing you all agitated there and

I'd like for you to have a little peace.

Saul composes himself, determined to get this out with serenity and understanding - but instead he explodes:

SAUL

Do I look like an Antichrist to you?

I work for a nonprofit environmental lobby. I don't smoke. I don't drink.

I wear Birkenstocks... and I don't even own a tie.

Kittridge looks up at Saul, in his eyes is the fear of a man who finally sees the truth of all darkness before him:

KITTRIDGE

I've seen a lot of freakish and deformed things in my line of work... but the sight of you, Prince of

Darkness, scares the living piss out of me...

(his emotions building)

...makes me wish I'd never invented that chromosome scanner in the first place. I have disrupted the order of things and this is my punishment...

(beat)

...all I wanted was to help people, and yet here you are... Belial,

Beelzebub, Lord of the Flies. In my office, sitting on a chair... wearing

Birkenstocks.


SAUL

Can we please leave?

Kittridge shoots to his feet.

KITTRIDGE

If you leave without confronting the possibility of your true nature, you could plunge the world into a horror beyond the imagination. Face your true nature, Saul... face it.

And do what?

SAUL

KITTRIDGE

The right, thing, the only thing.

SAUL

Not a whole hell of a lot of clarity there, doc.

Kittridge goes into his desk, digging deep for something.

SAUL

Doctor?

Kittridge holds up his finger and draws an ornate case from the desk.

Saul and Julie look over at the case, curious. Kittridge opens the case and removes a vaguely knife-shaped object from inside.

JULIE

What is that?

KITTRIDGE

A shard of the Holy Spear of Destiny.

Stained from time immemorial with the blood of the Martyred Christ, split into dagger-like pieces and mailed by the Catholic Church to selected doctors and geneticists like myself as a prophylactic measure against this possibility.

A really long pause.

SAUL

Good to know.

Saul turns to Julie: it really is time to go.


SAUL (CONT'D)

Julie, darling... love of my life...

KITTRIDGE

Plunge the dagger into your heart.

End it before you destroy us all.

SAUL

Wait a minute, I have a question.

KITTRIDGE

Yes?

SAUL

If I were the Antichrist and destined to bring about the end of the world, why would I willingly commit suicide?

Kittridge recoils.

KITTRIDGE

The cunning arguments of a dark saint are legion!

Saul turns a befuddled look at his wife.

SAUL

He used to give you lollipops?

JULIE

Okay. We can go.

SAUL

Bye.

Kittridge gets up, the shard in hand.

KITTRIDGE

No! I swore an oath to spare humanity from pain, and now I see the harbinger of that pain standing before me! You will die screaming, Son of Samhain!

You will die screaming!

His patience gone, Saul raises his voice at the old man.

SAUL

IT'S OVER KITTRIDGE! THE SOW AND I

ARE LEAVING!

Kittridge's face contorts into an expression of pure fear.


A trickle of blood streams from the corner of his mouth, and then, in a sudden moment of shocking violence, something bursts on Kittridge's chest.

The old man's shirt splits open as he falls to the ground, a river of dark, spilling viscera serving as his deathbed.

Julie and Saul look at one another for a long time, taking in this curious turn of events.

Oh my god...

JULIE

Julie carefully walks over to the old man, placing a very cautious, squeamish hand over the veins of his neck.

JULIE

He's... dead.

SAUL

Wow. Must have had a heart attack.

But Julie is seriously distressed and not buying this.

JULIE

Heart attacks - Saul - even really bad ones, don't cause people's guts to fly out of their stomachs.

SAUL

I'm not exactly a doctor, honey.

JULIE

And it doesn't strike you as the tiniest little bit strange that this happened when you raised your voice at him?

Saul look at his wife in utter disbelief:

Oh come on!

SAUL

Saul looks at the body, then at Julie, after a moment.

SAUL (CONT'D)

You're not seriously telling me that you believe that raising my voice had anything to do with this.

JULIE

You referred to me as "The Sow."


No I didn't.

SAUL

JULIE

Yes you did. You said "It's over

Kittridge, the sow and I are leaving."

SAUL

I so didn't say that! There's a dead man on the floor here and you're not thinking straight...

JULIE

So what'd you call me then?

SAUL

Have you ever even heard me use the word "sow?" Ever? No one says "sow!"

The look on Julie's face hasn't changed.

SAUL (CONT'D)

Honey, I don't know what I said... now can we please call this man an ambulance or a hearse or whatever it is that people do and go home?

The two stand off for a moment, then:

JULIE

I remember when Elmo died. His entire chest looked like it had exploded...

Saul tries to nip this in the bud...

SAUL

You don't really believe that what happened to Elmo -

...but Julie's mind is on a roll:

JULIE

... and he last thing I remember that night was you got upset over him licking your peanut butter sandwich... so you raised your voice at him... then the next morning his entire chest had exploded... inexplicably...

SAUL

Julie -

Julie stands, clutching the shard of the Spear of Destiny.


JULIE

...and you tried to get me to believe that he'd just bled out in some weird

Ebola kind of way but I always wondered...

SAUL

Wondered what? Cats die every day, old people die every day, that doesn't make me the Antichrist.

(beat)

Honey I don't want to stand discussing this over the corpse of your family doctor, please.

(beat)

How much have you and I been through?

You wanted me to be your husband. You wanted me to share your life. We've built something together. I'm twenty nine years old - if I had some kind of pre-destined demonic agenda, don't you think I'd do a little more with it than loaf around in Birkenstocks and lobby the state government to limit animal sewage dumping into the bay?

JULIE

Maybe you just don't know it.

SAUL

How could I not know if I was the

Child of Darkness?

JULIE

Maybe it's something buried inside of you...like that chromosome thing and sometimes when you least expect it, it just comes out and kind old men die...

SAUL

Julie, no. Come on. He wanted me to stab myself in his office. There was something clearly wrong with this man.

(beat)

I mean, let's say this thing is for real and there's a chance that there's something evil inside of me... I'm not just going to kill myself, I'm going to spend my life being the best person

I can be, the best man I can be. This chromosome scanner is an imperfect human creation. We can't just let it determine our destiny.

(MORE)


SAUL (cont'd)

If I thought for a single moment that

I had no choice other than being evil and bringing pain to people then I would kill myself.

(beat)

But I'm better than that... and I need you to know that, because if you don't then we don't have a life together, and then I would rather be dead.

JULIE

What about junior?

SAUL

You are the most gentle and precious and kind person I have ever known.

And junior is going to be half you.

(beat)

That's all I need I know.

Saul holds out his hand. Julie is in tears. Saul looks in her eyes. She returns the look and takes his hand. Saul draws Julie into an embrace.

As she cries softly into his shoulder, he removes the Spear of Destiny from her hand and places it on the desk.

SAUL (CONT'D)

Now lets go and get Dr. Kittridge and ambulance.

JULIE

He was a good man.

SAUL

I know... I know.

(beat)

Lets go, Julie.

Julie nods and exits the consulting room.

Saul looks down at the body, then slowly leans down and smears his hand over a pool of the doctor's blood.

Slowly, sheer lust in his eyes, Saul licks the blood from his hand as the lights dim around him, leaving only a spotlight on his face.

Saul smiles...

FADE TO BLACK.

THE END

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