The Best Ten-Minute Plays 2008 for Three or More Actors (2008)

     There are a number of things I learned from reading the two collections of Ten-Minute (or less in most cases).  The most obvious one was that I am an unreasonably harsh critic.  These are plays that have been, for the most part, produced and performed in front of live people, likely ones who paid for the show, and I found myself comparing them – and not in a particularly favorable light – to the plays written by fellow students from my high school and college days.  Why aren't they great if they are the best from a particular year (or from a limited range of years)?  But, if I can step back and acknowledge that I look at some acclaimed masterpieces and find a multitude of faults and failings in them, then I need to adjust my expectations.
     I think a major problem I have is that I have an intense desire for playwrights to not rely on the conventions of the art, but I also get agitated when playwrights break away from them completely.  Somewhere, undoubtedly, there is a happy medium, but it is likely too small for most authors to locate.  I need to find it within myself to be more accepting of the works that the more knowledgeable – at least in terms of selecting material – and simply find a way to address what did and did not work for me rather than judging whether the plays are any good at all.
     Another important lesson learned is that it is nearly impossible to tell a complete story in a ten-minute play.  While there was a statement that these plays would be more than scenes, that is how many felt; some seemed to be little more than sketches with larger aspirations.  Worse, because there isn't a sense of totality, many of them leave no lasting impression.  Still, there is a similarity between the short story and the (extremely) short play – one cannot read a lot of them at once without feeling burned out.  In that case, it doesn't matter if they are good or bad.  And it is here that it makes me marvel at the stamina of the teachers who have to wade through the much worse writing of students with great frequency.
    At any rate, I finished The Best Ten-Minute Plays 2008 for Three of More Actors first because it just had to be back at the library shortly after check out.  For some reason, the effort to renew it gained a single day of leeway.  Even more interesting, more than two weeks after it had been returned, a fine appeared for returning it late.  Except that it wasn't returned late.  And if it were, that fine would have shown up immediately.  My take away from this is that it is a cursed book (or at least the local copy is); check it out at your own risk.
     The book opens up with Kathleen Warnock's The Adventures of..., and despite it having the hints of coming from an honest place it tried to hard to have a clever ending to break up the obvious progression along the way.  George Freek's Antarctica actually bothered me because it was neither funny nor clever, and I was quite positive that both were intended.  Ian August's How to Survive in Corporate America (A Manual in Eight Steps) was entertaining, but it read like one of the fantasy sequence instructional films from That '70s Show (1998-2006) – and given that I have seen less than ¼ of the episodes, I'm somewhat amazed that this is the association I made while reading it.
     Things get a little better with In the Trap by Carl L. Williams.  While embracing quite a few of the conventions of a modern comedic play (it could be argued that it is an overgrown sketch that cared enough to give the characters some definition), it tries to have a point without insisting that it is making a point.  There is something refreshing about the self-defeating protagonist who makes good only in minor steps, and those are motivated by the petty concerns that we often try to dress up as noble – and he makes no effort to do as much.
     Then things bottom out with Moon Man by Jami Brandli.  It is ponderous.  It is pretentious without having any possible foundation for being so.  Worst of all, it refuses to have anything to say other than that people can be lonely.  This play may appeal to some, but I found it to be a waste of time.  More to the point, I think it provides no roles that an actor should be excited about performing.
     Mark Larmbeck's October People is not quite a whole play (though it is the one depicted on the cover of the book).  Instead, it feels like a scene whittled down from a larger story with a character deposited in to keep the characters from reaching any kind of quick, reasonable resolution to their relationship.  It is rather well written, but it feels like an insiders look at the world in which actors (and people who rely on the entertainment industry) live.  That is a convention that I think doesn't translates well outside of (the North American) hubs like Los Angeles, New York, Vancouver, or Toronto. 
     The Other Shoe by Lisa Soland wasn't poorly written, but it seemed too desperate to make its point.  I would argue that if one is writing a short play, it shouldn't be overly concerned with addressing the author's agenda.  Instead, it should be primarily concerned with making sure that a complete story is told in the limited time afforded it.  This is something that Paola Soto Hornbuckle got right in The Perfect Red.  It feels like a complete story – and is the the only play in the collection to have multiple scenes.  It is also surprisingly dark, yet at the same time it manages to be accessible to a general audience.  I would not imagine that many people would stage it because it does require better than modest production values but does not run long enough to justify it being the only play running on the stage.  But there is something to it.
     Gina Gionfriddo's Squalor was more than a little weird, but it still works as a brief play.  It was extremely contemporary in its references, but while that is impressive if it is produced immediately, it also serves to date it.  It did have some rather good lines that showcase Gionfriddo's ability to bring wit and levity to a play without defusing the progression of the story.  My favorites are:
          Marnie: "Quit?  You think this is hamburgers and hair appointments? 
          You can't quit a war."
          Mike: "I'm thirsty and I have a dick." (Trust me, it has real meaning
          in context.)
     Don Nigro's Three Turkeys Waiting for Corncobs is one of those plays that really relies on the conventions, especially the off-beat ones, of the modern play.  It is actively trying to be quirky, and that is something that I am not sure that I know how to comes to terms with.  I guess it is kind of funny, but in a way that doesn't seem to offer anything new while simultaneously not being something that has been done with any frequency.  No, when it comes to something that has been done before one doesn't need to go further than To Darfur by Erik Christian Hanson.  Equating small-mindedness with being a Southerner and/or a Republican – which while not a being an argument without merit, it is not really a fact – is old hat.  And there is nothing much more going on for To Darfur, even in terms of being entertaining.
     Nora Chau's Whatever Happened to Finger Painting, Animal Crackers, and Afternoon Naps? has a slight absurdist edge to it and has some fun with WASP-y conflicts, but it is both too short and too in love with itself to really be considered a full piece.  At least it is better than The Answer, which felt like a writing exercise that tried to use play conventions to mask the lack of original story.  
     Larry Hamm impressed me with Do-Overs, but more because it felt like a cross between something I co-authored (Call Me Temujin) and Richard A. Knaak's Dutchman (1996).  It is the story of two souls that keep finding each other over many incarnations, while a third soul – one that has not had a single life under its belt – tries to gauge expectations of life and love from their revelations.  It is clever, and perhaps even slightly sappy, but it also feels like it manages to get a full story told in its brief time.  It is immediately followed by Gloom, Doom, and Soul-Crushing Misery by Robin Rice Lichtig, a play where the single distinguishing feature is having the Travelocity gnome shoved up someone's ass.  It is the opposite of clever and smart, so I assume that it must look much better when performed than it reads.  At least it didn't read like a piece of mediocre high school writing, which is how Chris Shaw Swanson's The Growth came off.  Even in trying to be more positive in my evaluations of these pieces, there is nothing about The Growth that speaks towards professional level writing or the concept of subtlety.  
     Patrick Gabridge's Measuring Matthew is another effort to put a character with Asperger's Syndrome into a story.  This has become quite common in the last ten years, or at least very noticeable.  From Sheldon Cooper on The Big Bang Theory (2007–present) to Abed Nadir on Community (2009–present) to Max Braverman on Parenthood (2010–present) to Wally Stevens (as played by Mark Linn Baker in 2003) on Law & Order: Criminal Intent (2001-2011), there is an unhealthy fascination with the fascination characters with Asperger's have with seemingly trivial, non-standard subjects.  I find it tiresome, in part because there is seldom an examination of what the condition actually is.  Also, because there is almost always an indulgence of the behaviors of the characters so as to not challenge the established order.
     Night Terrors manages to undue most of its solid writing and existential examination simply by having the third role be largely inaccessible.  It is leaps and bounds better then Zachary Zwillinger Eats People, which combines poor grammar (and not in a purposeful manner to establish character) and never stops being preachy.  The best advice I have seen on the subject is that if an author wants to be preachy, write either an essay or a sermon.
     The collection gets better with a pair plays where the single point may just be that cynicism can win out.  The Baby War by Laura Cotton tells the story of the fight over the future of an illegitimate child between the well-to-do and the merely middle class.  It also manages some sly criticism of consumerism reinforced through reality television.  It also has the following exchange (where Carolyn is April’s mother and Patricia is the mother of the boy who got April pregnant):
          Patricia: You see, I’ve decided that I can’t allow April to have 
          an abortion.  
          April: I wasn’t planning on having an abortion.  
          Patricia: Of course you were.   
          April: No, I wasn’t.  
          Carolyn: Are you sure, honey?  You could have just a tiny one.   
          April: A tiny abortion?  What, are you out of your mind?
It is far better than most of the dialogue present in the book.  Thankfully, it is followed by the just-as-cynical but darker Sexual Perversity in Connecticut by Mike Folie.  Finding some proper balance between honoring and sending-up Mamet and exaggerating WASP-y catfighting, it manages to be wry without ever tripping over into the ridiculous.  And it serves as a good reminder to keep an eye out for the babysitters who become whores.
     Sister Snell isn't bad, but it tries to be witty at all times and feels far too short for the scope of story that could have been told.  It isn't bad, but I feel that it would have been better served to be developed into a longer piece.  As it stands, it resembles more of a well-written sketch.
     Much different is Vanessa David's Current Season.  It resembles the play about turkeys in that it calls for a trio of actors to play at being animals, in this case light-up reindeer decorations.  Still, it has a quirky charm, as one of the most inappropriate lines (at least out of context) I've seen in a long while.  
          Prancer: "If being in homosexual positions brings holiday cheer to
          the people, then I'm all for it.  Bring on the kids."
     Intervention is a play revolving around a one-note joke, one that is obvious by page two, doesn't get said until page six, and then is hammered home for another whole page.  It is an example of something obvious being mistaken for something clever, an insight the common person has never made.  The end result is a tedious reading experience that I guess could only be worse when seen in person.
     Jerome Parisse's Guys, Only Guys! manages to get the one-joke story structure right.  While probably better served as being a tighter comedy sketch, it is a funny brief play that successfully establishes characters and a story.  While the twist of an ending may be obvious, it doesn't feel like it has been coming since the characters show up; personally, I think it strikes the right balance of being novel and not so 'out there' as to alienate an audience.  Strangely, Parisse's The Birthday Knife reads as an extremely creepy experience.  It feels like there is a very real threat to the main character, and because of this any humor otherwise in the story is drained away.  It is definitely the weaker of his two efforts here.
     When I wrote about some of the plays requiring as much production work as a full-length play, I may have been most specifically thinking of Mark Harvey Levine's Cabfare for the Common Man.  This is made more lamentable because Cabfare is full of labored metaphors and imagery.  The only point is has to make is that one doesn't really go through life alone, with the addendum that the right person can be found.  In what universe is that profound?  Or even true?  Where is the story for the truly miserable, how life is an unbearable series of lonely experiences where the people who leave you are the ones who are not destined to go through life alone?  (I am going to come right out and admit I would probably have criticized that story, too, if it were as sloppily conceived as Levine's.)  He has a much better piece with A Case of Anxiety.  With an Inspector that begs the performer to overact as much as possible and repetitions that propel the story forward, it is the darker story he was afraid to tell with Cabfare.  It is still a little too sunny, but has quite possibly the best instructions for how to introduce a gorilla into a play:
          (Robert opens the door to let the Inspector out and is 
          immediately attacked by a giant gorilla who bursts into 
          the apartment. [If you can’t find a gorilla with an Equity 
          card, someone in a gorilla suit, a particularly large and 
          hairy actor will do the trick.] The gorilla picks up Robert 
          and tosses him around.)]
     The collection closes with Lisa Loomer's Fear of Spheres.  I didn't get it.  Not even a little.  It appears to be a play that would be fun to perform, but if it doesn't mean anything then what's the point? 
     All in all, I think there were enough well written pieces to make the book worth reading, but I will question what makes these plays the best of those available for consideration.  I would also wager that thirty is too large a sample for those who actually want to read through the plays.  Sure, it is better for those who are looking for material to produce, but that is well beyond my scope or interest.

▸          The Adventures of... by Kathleen Warnock (2006)

▸          Antarctica by George Freek (2008)

▸          How to Survive in Corporate America (A Manual in Eight Steps) by Ian August (2008)

▸          In the Trap by Carl L. Williams (2007)

▸          Moon Man by Jami Brandli (2007)

▸          October People by Mark Larmbeck (2007)

▸          The Other Show by Lisa Soland (2008)

▸          The Perfect Red by Paola Soto Hornbuckle (2007)

▸          Squalor by Gina Gionfriddo (2007)

▸          Three Turkeys Waiting for Corncobs by Don Nigro (2008)

▸          To Darfur by Erik Christian Hanson (007)

▸          Whatever Happened to Finger Painting, Animal Crackers, and Afternoon Naps? By Nora Chau (2007)

▸          The Answer by Vanessa David (2008)

▸          Do-Overs by Larry Hamm (2007)

▸          Gloom, Doom, and Soul-Crushing Misery by Robin Rice Lichtig (2007)

▸          The Growth by Chris Shaw Swanson (2007)

▸          Measuring Matthew by Patrick Gabridge (2004)

▸          Night Terrors by Wendy MacLeod (2007)

▸          Zachary Zwillinger Eats People by Lauren D. Yee (2007)

▸          The Baby War by Laura Cotton (2007)

▸          Sexual Perversity in Connecticut by Mike Folie (2007)

▸          Sister Snell by Mark Troy (2002)

▸          Current Season by Vanessa David (2007)

▸          The Title Fight by Ian August (2006)

▸          Intervention by Mark Lambeck (2007)

▸          Guys, Only Guys! by Jerome Parisse (2008)

▸          The Birthday Knife by Jerome Parisse (2007)

▸          Cabfare for the Common Man by Mark Harvey Levine (2005)

▸          A Case of Anxiety by Mark Harvey Levine (2006) 

▸          Fear of Spheres by Lisa Loomer (2008)

Waiting for Godot (1954)

     Tragic.  Sad.  Often funny (though I'm not much for the more physical comedy, and don't find the prostate issue funny at all).  Ultimately unknowable.  That Beckett apparently vehemently denied that Godot – a name North Americans have been mispronouncing for some time – can be understood to be God is perplexing, if only because God is just as vague and inaccessible as any knowledge of being, of why we, especially given that we are destined to not-be shortly thereafter.
     Waiting for Godot (1954) is absurd, but in the abstract.  Its primary characters are never referred to by their listed names (I don't know if that is brilliant or banal, but it is something).  It has no sense of place except that it is one incapable of giving the men what they need while simultaneously evocative of longing and change.
     I wouldn't want a steady diet of this from any playwright, but I finally understand why so many people are drawn to it.

Death of a Salesman (1949) and Mr. Peters' Connections (1999)

     Arthur Miller must have been writing about something endemic to, if not something so broad as human nature, the soul that can know doubt and misery found in what was supposed to be a full and rewarding life.  At least in these two plays – Death of a Salesman (1949) and Mr. Peters' Connections (1999) written half a century apart.  The earlier play is one of the great accomplishments in American theatre, and I am positive that I am not interested in investing the time to produce a meaningful musing on it.  What I am going to do instead is write about how these two plays seem to inform my understanding of my grandparents.
     If ever there were a person who was the unwholesome combination of Willy and Linda Loman, it would be my grandmother Ethel.  All of the unrealistic expectations and boundless excuse making for her children with a built-in self-support system, an unquestioning, undying belief that her beliefs were always right.  From my perspective, she never failed to blame external forces for any and all failures that befell her children and grandchildren.  I cannot say that she believed that superficial charm and the trappings of success were as important for her as they were for Willy Loman, but they certainly ranked quite high in terms of what she found important. 
     Where Biff eventually comes to terms with his shortcomings, that he remained trapped between his father's view of the world and a deep and abiding need to not fulfill those misbegotten expectations, my father remained a slave to the belief that the world was forever doing him wrong.  He came to believe the lies invented by my grandmother – that my mother had tricked him into marrying her (I vividly remember when this fiction was formed in the summer of 1986 over two nights, when it was slowly formed into a truth they could all accept), military service ruining my father's ability to start his own business, that he was not at all responsible for the fact both of his children took multi-year breaks from speaking to him – I suspect because that had been a way of life in the house in which he grew up.  Such as it was for the Lomans.
     I am sure there is something deeper going on in Death of a Salesman, but because there is something so real about it, I found it difficult to see it without comparing it to my family.  Where my grandfather managed to get something akin to Willy's dream funeral – and there was much to be made about his own grandfather's funeral, with the myth (maybe truth) that even the Governor of Michigan was in attendance – my grandmother was left with a small service, almost entirely restricted to her children, grandchildren, and people from the church where the service was held (who didn't really know her).  To be fair, both lived to be quite old, and the life-long friends they had fostered (they do have me there) were almost all dead. 
     Where Death of a Salesman felt like an examination of the danger of being raised to be a valueless narcissist (and the people who create those kind of children), Mr. Peters' Connections felt like an imagining of my grandfather's later days.  When he was scared to live in his own home, essentially confined to his bedroom (it cluttered with books and video tapes collected by my grandmother, so she could pretend to be interacting with a dead friend – and clearly looking for something, anything to justify his hanging on to his life.  Where Harry Peters was a pilot for Pan Am, my grandfather flew for United.  Both felt that retirement was forced upon them too damn soon. 
     I doubt that there was a woman for whom my grandfather forever pined – he was quite honestly in love with his wife, but there may or may not have been instances when he strayed – and he didn't have a dead brother to fret about, but so much of the rest felt true.  That Miller could continue to find the angst of the end, and for it to be as true in its emotion is quite remarkable.  While absolutely nowhere near as focused as Death of a Salesman, Mr. Peters' Connections still has something to say.  Instead of being concerned with the damage that can be inflicted on children, it examines the danger of having nothing left to identify as ones' own at the end.

The Glass Menagerie (1944)

     There is no play that I have read and seen more times than Tennessee William's The Glass Menagerie (1944).  I had not had any contact with the material in the last 20 years, however, and so felt that I owed it to myself and the material to revisit it.  It is entirely likely that 14-16 year old me would not be able to grasp much of what is really at the heart of the play, but that doesn't necessarily mean that much older me is going to do much better with it.
     I was most surprised – because I didn't remember – by how compressed The Glass Menagerie really is.  Williams manages to condense years of desperation to escape (outwardly or inwardly) into a few nights without it feeling false or contrived for the stage.  How the household – the cramped apartment with none of the trappings of Southern aristocracy to which Amanda Wingfield clings – is presented does feel like it was crafted for the stage, but not in such a way as to diminish any of verisimilitude of the situation.
     Tom Wingfield – a stand-in for Williams as this play largely deals with his guilt over leaving his sister to her unfortunate fate – has literary aspirations, but would just assume get away from the crushing weight of his backwards-looking mother and severely introverted sister.  As someone who has dedicated more than a small amount of energy in not following his dreams, I get where he is coming from.  But Tom is relating the play from the future, so he knows everything that is going to happen.  I would think that he would be more wistful than he is (until the very end) as he knows that nothing good will come to his mother or sister from his decision to desert them.
     But the play isn't really about Tom.  It is about Laura, Tom's older sister who is so crippled with insecurity (in part due to her belief that everyone focuses on her polio-inflicted uneven gait) that she cannot bear to deal with strangers.  She has only her collection of glass figurines and the undying dream of loving a boy from high school.  Sure, it seems obvious now that this is no way to live (at least develop a way to deal with strangers and get a job...I'm not going to make any judgments on the high school infatuation). 
     Amanda isn't so much interested in helping her children be happy or better people, preferring instead that Tom find a way to make slightly more money at his soul-crushing job and for Laura to be married-off to whatever man will take her.  At the same time, Amanda is so narcissistic that she cannot help but try to overshadow her children in the presence of the only person invited into their lives.  Now, I'm not sure how much of this is exaggerated so the audience is clear on her character or if Williams really had this kind of unfortunate mother, but she is the kind of woman that husband and children should flee.
     There is something entirely sad, much more so as an adult, in seeing Laura have to accept her unicorn being turned into something as ordinary as a horse.  It isn't just that she loses the symbol of her differrentness and her gateway into the world she has created to escape her own sadness and inability to cope, but that she has to lose it to a man who could have – in the past and even the present of the events in the play – if only she had been willing to risk an encounter with Jim and he wasn't so concerned with his social position.  Her escape is forever denied and Tom leaves her to the untender mercies of their mother.
     Still a great play, but sad even in its humor. 

Long Day's Journey into Night (1956*)

     I feel somewhat dirty when I'm hypercritical of Long Day's Journey into Night (published in 1956, but written in 1941-42).  I like the idea of an obtuse, intensely personal story being told in play format being a masterpiece.  Sure, mine isn't (and not just because it is in a sloppy screenplay format).  The problem that O'Neill has is that his play has not aged well.  More than that, because it was considered groundbreaking, many other authors have tackled similar stories and done so with much more ambition and clarity.  Compare Shepard's Buried Child to Long Day's Journey into Night and ask yourself which one has an element that better encapsulates the breakdown of family harmony in light of a secret.  O'Neill's work feels dated by the time it is published.
     Maybe that is exactly the problem.  The idea that a mother who has a morphine/heroin addiction is some kind of unbearable, unfaceable truth feels so suburban, so white middle-class.  It speaks of a lack of awareness of the world of the late 19th Century America; Sear & Roebuck used to sell heroin kits through the mail, legally, as a means to help people get off of morphine.  Clearly there was no shortage of usage.  So the entire crux becomes one of a reluctance to talk about what is actually wrong with Mary (and I'm sympathetic, because I did something similar – though much more awkwardly – in Without Distinction).  Well, that and how the Irish-American family of the era (there are no daughters, so we don't get to see them devalued as people) is not a particularly supportive unit.
     I saw this performed in 2002, though most of the cast was replaced when the production finally made it to Broadway.  At the time, the inconsistencies in the performance really bothered me.  Only Brian Dennehy failed to disappoint, and if he didn't look like he wanted to strangle his cast-mates, I would have tried to make it to the stage and ask him what the hell happened to make everything fall apart.  The rest of that cast was Pamela Payton-Wright as Mary (she was beyond awful, downright cringe-worthy), Steve Pickering as older brother Jamie (he was fine until the final act when he actually needed to be prompted for a line and nearly walked into another actor trying to hit his mark), David Cromer as younger brother Edmund (bad throughout, but consistent in that he wasn't so bad as to steal focus from Payton-Wright's disaster on stage), and Susan Bennett as a completely forgettable maid (so much so that I had almost no recollection of the scene where she has a fair amount of dialogue).  Really, the worst live show I've ever seen.  And I didn't know why.
     I think I do, now.  Long Day's Journey into Night isn't just reluctant to be about what it really is about, it is horribly overwritten when it comes to the directions for the characters.  All of them are in a constant, unflagging conflict with themselves.  While O'Neill was trying to show that there is an inner turmoil they cannot share (because of fear or pride?), the hurt always slips through and poisons the relationships with each other.  That is a powerful message utterly ruined when every other line a character has is there to show the duality.  It feels like watching a clan of supremely functional schizophreniacs who have to navigate a shared reality while beset with their own personal hells.  And not in an interesting way.
     What bothers me most about the play is that it has no sense of timelessness, which it should.  It is about the tensions that can destroy a family, how withholding love is more dangerous than any active hurt one can dish out.  But O'Neill has a need to make it so personal that it defies the audience (or in this instance, the reader) to give a damn.  Most of the plays I read last year were over 2300 years old and spoke to the human condition in an enduring manner.  O'Neill's play is less than 100 and is essentially a relic, and not a pleasant or fun one.  There may be something meaningful happening to the characters in the story, but O'Neill demands that the audience make all of the connections themselves, and dares them to give a damn in the end.  Quite frankly, I didn't.  And that is how I felt in 2002 as well.

Poetics (c. 335 BCE)

     It is more than a little disconcerting that what we have of two of Aristotle's seminal works – The Ethics (be it the Nicomachean or Eudemian version) and Poetics – have not survived as complete works, but rather as the assembled class notes that were subsequently used as the basis of the actual books.  This means that we, who didn't experience the direct teachings of Aristotle, do not get the benefit of the poetry of his language or the true insight of his thought.
     Poetics is perhaps one of the most celebrated texts in Western culture.  Should it be?  Probably.  It serves as the basis for critical interpretation of poetry (and prose, since Aristotle is essentially concerned with how to tell a compelling and meaningful story) and lays out the necessary elements to constructing a story.  The problem – for me – is that it is essentially an older version (and an incomplete one) of a text book.  I'm almost positive that there has been much work in the field of deconstructing the elements of a story, and that amongst them emerges a much more complete (and contemporary) picture of what it takes to effectively enact a plot or structure a tale in such a manner that it is consistent with the point envisioned by the author.
     Indeed, were it not for the lengthy and well written introduction to the text (by translator Malcolm Heath), I think I would have failed to appreciate much of what Aristotle was explaining.  What is more telling is that Aristotle correctly anticipates that the failures of structure are ones that can – and have – endured to the present.  Clearly, Aristotle was more than just paying attention to the poetry and plays of his day (and well before it); he found a way to properly appreciate them as an art form.
     I know that I am nowhere near well-versed in real criticism to truly appreciate what Aristotle accomplished with the Poetics (and yet I am arrogant enough to work in the medium on this blog).  It is doubly painful that his commentaries on comedies – as implied in the text – are completely missing from history.  But I am certainly glad I finally got around to reading this book.  Why it wasn't required for any of the theatre classes I had, I cannot answer.

The 2011-2012 Reading Project to Date (August - December)

     I thought I would give a visual recap of titles covered to date as part of the 2011-2012 Reading Project.  Sure, it is much less loaded with serious titles than the 2010-2011 Reading Project, but it already has more non-fiction titles in the first five months so I have not abandoned hope.  There are quite a few types of fiction covered, too, so I don't feel as though I have locked into just reading types of books.  Sure, there are five Dover Thrift Edition titles in the mix (one quarter of the books read), but they are just so damned affordable.
     Anyway, feel free to comment on any of the titles you may have read and enjoyed (or hated). I feel rather confident that most people will have read at least three of these books.  Or just take note that this would only be six rows of books if I yanked the comic books and graphic novels out.  I would like to say that fourteen of the titles pictured were courtesy of the Forest Park Public Library and another four were borrowed from family members, so the 2011-2012 Reading Project has been quite economical to date.

The Imperial Cruise by James Bradley, Walking the Tightrope of Reason by Robert Foegelin, Great Short Short Stories edited by Paul Negri, and What Jesus Meant by Garry Wills

Conan the Barbarian Michael A. Stackpole, Seinfeld and Philosophy edited by William Irwin, The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and Naked Heat by Richard Castle

Kremin issues 1-4 by Charles Moissant

A Study in Scarlet by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Ian Edginton, and I.J.N. Culbard, The Beast of Chicago by Rick Geary, and School issues 1-4 by Brian Defferding

Wrath issues 1-7, written by Mike W. Barr, mostly drawn by David Ammerman (Malibu Comics)

The Night Man issues 1-15 (Malibu Comics)

Rousseau's Dog by David Edmonds and John Eidinow, "Cat Calls" by Cynthia Leitich Smith, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain, "Rogue Hunter #1 – Gaia: Into the Abyss" by Kevis Hendrickson, and Herland by Charlotte Perkins Gilman

Arcadia by Tom Stoppard, The Power and the Glory by Graham Greene, Richard Castle's Deadly Storm by Brian Bendis, Kelly Sue Deconnick, and Lan Medina, Lord of the Flies by William Golding, and The Penguin Historical Atlas of Ancient Greece by Robert Morkot

The Hellenistic Age by Peter Green, "The New World" by Patrick Ness, The Red Badge of Courage by Stephen Crane, and The Audacity of Hope by Barack Obama

The Dead that Walk edited by Stephen Jones, "They" by Vincent Hobbes, The Time Machine by H.G. Wells, The Zombie Survival Guide: Recorded Attacks by Max Brooks, and Blockade Billy by Steven King

Without Distinction — Revised (2011)

     Not much in the way of changes.  I did check to make sure that the obvious spelling and formatting errors didn't reappear.  Also, I am nearly positive that the height and weights of most the characters shouldn't match the real world inspirations for them.  In that regard I am going to continue with my assertion that all of this is fiction.
     If you haven't read the 2001/2004 version, well you don't need to go back and read it.  There is nothing extra there.  To be fair, there is no real reason for me to make so minor a revision to this script.  An honest look at it would let me rip it to pieces, keeping only a few of the lines I like. 

The inspiration for the Mike character, not so coincidentally named Mike.  I do have a better picture I could have stolen for this, but I didn't want to dig out the photo album and scan it.  I can live with the bad transfer from a yearbook.

 

“Without Distinction”

2011 Revision

Written by

Timothy Allen McNeil

FADE IN:

INT. DORM ROOM – DAY

It is mid-March of 1994. The dormroom is painted a yellowing shade of white. There is a metal window grate over the windows painted in the same shade of paint, but has several chips exposing the black metal. There are two beds in the room, both against the back wall with the windows between the beds. Directly under the windows is a single desk cluttered with papers and notebooks. There are no books on the desk, but there is a telephone with a portable handset. There is a single desk chair at the desk.

There are dressers at the feet of each bed, with the one closer to the door being pulled further away and has a television set and small stereo system on it. The other dresser has a small dorm issued microwave on it. There is a small refrigerator next to this dresser. Just beyond the refrigerator is a sink with two cups on its small back lip, each holding a single toothbrush. There is one tube of toothpaste and a small box of dental floss on the same lip. There is a mirror above the sink. There are small, cheap rugs under each dresser and a large, faux Persian rug in the center of the room.

The walls of the room are largely bare. Above the bed closest to the door is a 2' x 4' piece of corkboard. It is covered with pictures, papers, and artwork. Most out of place on it is a crayon drawn dinosaur signed by Jeffrey in the lower left hand corner. There are several wallet size photos along the right hand edge. There are a couple of small posters (8.5" x 11") are various locations on the wall, including a promotional one for Soul Asylums’s GRAVE DANCERS UNION located in the corner by the far bed.

Opposite the wall with the windows is a large closet (approximately 3' deep and 6' across). The closet doors are painted a shade of pale yellow and have no decorations or adornments. Past the closet is the entrance, with the door recessed back to the depth of the closet.

TWO WOMEN are in the room. AMY, an attractive college freshman (5'4", 105 lbs.; shoulder length brown hair that has a slight curl at the end; green eyes), is standing next to her bed, sorting clothes to be laundered. She is less than enthusiastic about this task. She is dressed in wrinkled t-shirt and sweat pants.

STEPHANIE (5'7", 145 lbs.; curly dirty blonde hair; brown eyes), Amy’s roommate, is seated in a plastic desk chair in the middle of the room watching television. She is dressed to stay in (a none-too-fresh University of Iowa sweatshirt, loose jeans, and slippers).

PHONE RINGS

Amy looks over at Stephanie.

(Amy’s) POV shot of Stephanie watching the television.

Amy drops the clothing in her hand steps towards the desk to answer the telephone. She answers it on the third ring.

                   AMY

              (Immediately pacing about the

              room)

     Hello? ...Okay. So, are you coming over

     now? ...Well, no, probably not for a

     while, but that doesn’t mean........No,

     then.....Can I speak now? Okay?...

     Listen, do whatever you want. I’ll be

     here, though, so if Mike and his frat

     brother still want to do something...

     Fine, put him on.

Amy looks pleadingly over to Stephanie.

(Amy’s) POV shot of Stephanie still watching the television. Stephanie looks up for a second and slightly shakes her head.

                   AMY (CONT’D)

     Hey. ...No, I’m good, I’m fine actually.

     ....Yeah, hey, is he being an asshole to

     you, too? ...Lucky you. Are we still on

     for tonight?

Amy picks up a CD case next to the stereo with her spare hand and pretends to be interested in it.

                   AMY (CONT’D)

     No, she’s going out tonight. ...I doubt

     it. Because Polly’s coming in to visit.

     ....Yeah, it’s spring break for them,

     too. ...Probably some sorority thing.

     You can understand that, Mr. Beta-Sigma-

     Psi. Why don’t you just come over now?

Amy sets the CD case back near the stereo and walks over toward the closet.

                   AMY (CONT’D)

     No. No, don’t ask him...

Amy covers her face with her left hand and drops to her knees in exasperation. She runs her left hand through her hair as she slowly rises to her feet.

                   AMY (CONT’D)

     Of course he doesn’t. ....You ask him if

     you’re that concerned about it. It isn’t

     as though.....exactly. ...I don’t know,

     then. Come over in about an hour. ....

     Because I have some things I can be

     doing and you haven’t seen him in a

     while. ...Fine. Goodbye.

Amy turns off the phone and places it back in its cradle. She turns back to her bed.

(Amy’s) POV shot of laundry covering bed.

                   STEPHANIE (O.S.)

     Tim?

                   AMY

              (picking at clothes)

     What?

                   STEPHANIE

     That was Tim?

                   AMY

     Yeah. And Mike.

                   STEPHANIE

              (grinning)

     I thought Tim didn’t call you. I know he

     has a standing appointment to stop by

     once a week, sometimes more than that.

     But I don’t think he’s ever called here

     before.

                   AMY

     Yeah, well I got wrangled into showing

     Mike and his friend a good time. Tim

     just wanted to know what time they

     should be here.

                   STEPHANIE

     That is the most inaccurate use of the

     word “just” I have ever heard.

                   AMY

              (raising voice slightly)

     Shut up, Steph. Things aren’t all that

     great between Tim and me right now.

                   STEPHANIE

     Right now? Okay. I imagine that whole

     stalker – stalkee relationship is a hard

     one to manage.

                   AMY

              (softer tone)

     He’s not like that anymore. It’s just

     that...

                   STEPHANIE

     What? Is Greg giving you a hard time

     about him? I though he and Tim settled

     their problems months ago. Unless Greg

     still doesn’t trust him.

                   AMY

     I can’t imagine that he and Greg have

     had any discussion on the matter. If

     they had, I’m sure I would have been

     given some grief – extra grief – by one

     of them. I can’t say I don’t understand

     Greg’s concern. I guess he thinks I

     shouldn’t be sleeping with other guys

     while and we’re going out...even if we

     are three hours apart.

Stephanie turns from TV and looks at Amy, wide-eyed.

                   STEPHANIE

     Did I miss something?

Amy drops clothes and turns to face Stephanie.

                   AMY

     What? No! God, Stephanie, you think I’m–

                   STEPHANIE

     Don’t even try that with me, Amy. You

     want to protest that issue, you better

     do it with someone who knows a whole

     hell of a lot less than I do. Speaking

     of which, Tim’s seemed fine around me.

     So what’s the problem between the two of

     you now?

Amy looks away and refuse to make eye contact with Stephanie.

                   AMY

     I don’t know. I don’t think either of us

     know how to be friends, what with how

     much there is between us. Whatever it is

     that is between us. We haven’t defined

     it. It’s like we are...we are...I don’t

     know. And he should either...

                   STEPHANIE

     Shit or get off the pot?

Amy turns back to face Stephanie. She is smiling.

                   AMY

     Oh, that’s tasteful.

                   STEPHANIE

     Okay. Fuck or walk.

Amy stifles a laugh. She turns back toward her bed.

                   AMY

     I’m suddenly very happy you are going to

     be out tonight. I don’t want somebody

     around who is going to put the choice

     to him in such a stark manner.

                   STEPHANIE

     I’ll bet. So, we’ll be out and you can

     have the room to yourselves. But what

     will you do with Mike?

Amy spins around a glares at Stephanie.

(CU) Amy’s eyes.

Stephanie offers up a “no offense” gesture as she rises out of her chair. She walks over to her bed and sits, facing Amy.

                   STEPHANIE

     I’m kidding, Amy. Listen, I’m not

     against you and Greg. And it isn’t like

     Tim is anyone’s idea of the perfect guy.

     But he’s here and obviously interested.

     Maybe you should make the call on

     whether anything is going to happen or

     not. ...I mean, if the best way he can

     show you how he feels is by bringing a

     porno over for you to watch—

Amy points an accusatory finger at Stephanie.

                   AMY

     Hey, that was for you.

                   STEPHANIE

     I’m so sure it wasn’t.

Amy relaxes and sits on her bed facing Stephanie.

                   AMY

     Don’t give me that. You told him that

     you had never seen one before. That’s

     why he brought it over. Granted, it

     didn’t help matters that we played it

     right away.

                   STEPHANIE

     You’re the one who was eager to put it

     in the VCR as soon as you saw it. And it

     probably didn’t help that we let

     everyone on the floor wander in and

     watch some. Or that we kept repeating

     that line.

                   AMY

              (slightly laughing)

     Yeah. “Play with my la-bi-a.”

Stephanie laughs. She reaches out and squeezes Amy’s hand.

                   STEPHANIE

     It might be time to stop dealing with

     him with kid gloves. He’s a big boy. He

     can take it. Probably. Maybe.

                   AMY

     Tim is not like everyone else, Steph.

     I mean, he thinks he’s being respectful

     when he refers to people as mister or

     miss and their last names.

                   STEPHANIE

     That is a little weird, but it is kind

     of a guy thing. Calling people by their

     last names, anyway.

                   AMY

     But it isn’t just that. He’s perfectly

     fine just sitting here quietly, out of

     the way, and listening to us babble on

     about meaningless shit.

                   STEPHANIE

     That could be from being a stalker.

                   AMY

     That’s not funny, Steph. It’s just that

     he’s gone so far to get my attention,

     and now that he has it, he won’t come

     out and just say what it is he wants. Or

     if I knew he was just fucking nuts.

                   STEPHANIE

     Would it matter?

Amy looks quizzically at Stephanie.

                   STEPHANIE (CONT’D)

     If he told you what he wanted, not if

     he’s crazy.

                   AMY

     It would let me know just what he wants.

     It would help us sort through all of

     this shit.

                   STEPHANIE

     That’s not what I meant. Would it get

     him any closer to what he wants.

Amy fall back on her bed and throws her hands in the air in exasperation.

                   AMY

     I don’t know what he wants!

Stephanie reaches up and grabs a pillow. She throws it at Amy.

Amy bats it away and sit back up.

                   STEPHANIE

     Yeah, you do. I think you just have to

     decide if you’re willing to tell him

     that you know and that it’s okay.

Amy reaches for pillow and throws it back at Stephanie.

                   STEPHANIE (CONT’D)

     Or not.

                   AMY

     Yeah. You try doing that and get back to

     me on how well it went.

KNOCKING at door.

Amy slowly gets up from her bed.

Stephanie smiles at Amy and gets up from her bed. She walks over to the door and opens it.

(Stephanie’s) POV shot of door opening, revealing POLLY, a short but happy freshman from the University of Illinois (5', 115 lbs.; loosely curled black hair extends just past her shoulder; brown eyes). She is wearing a light winter coat and carrying a travel bag.

Polly steps into the room. She and Stephanie hug.

                   POLLY and STEPHANIE

              (simultaneously)

     Hi!

Polly steps back and sets down he bag. She shifts on her feet while speaking.

                   POLLY

     Hey, guess what? You know that guy I

     told you about...Matt? He’s here. Isn’t

     that great?

Stephanie smiles but shrugs at the same time.

Amy walks towards Polly but is shaking her head.

                   POLLY

     Hey, Amy.

Polly looks back at the door way before Amy can respond.

                   AMY

              (weakly)

     Hey.

MATT, a boyish University of Illinois freshman (5'9", 150 lbs.; short brown hair) enters. He is carrying more bags and wearing a bulky winter coat and scarf. His gelled hair is mussed from wearing a knit hat, which is sticking out of one of his jacket pockets.

                   POLLY

     Honey, these are my friends. This is

     Stephanie.

Polly indicates Stephanie.

Matt attempts to extend his right hand to shake but cannot do so because it is restricted by a bag strap.

Stephanie steps forward to shake, but helps Matt remove the bag from his right arm first. The two tentatively shake.

Polly takes another bag from Matt and cheerfully shakes him by the shoulders.

                   MATT

              (almost mumbling)

     Hey. Stephanie. I’m Matt.

                   STEPHANIE

     Hey, Matt. Wow...Polly has told me a lot

     about you. I’m really glad you could

     make it out.

Matt blushes and looks at his feet.

Polly grabs the bags and moves them out of the way.

                   MATT

     Yeah.

Polly settles next to Matt and hugs him close. She directs Matt’s attention to Amy.

                   POLLY

     And this is Amy.

Matt looks at Amy and then quickly looks away.

Amy gives Matt a vague wave and turns back to face her bed. She begins to pick through her clothes again.

                   STEPHANIE

              (to Polly, in low tones)

     Away for the weekend together, huh?

     What would your parents say?

Polly and Matt both blush. Matt suddenly becomes uncomfortable being so close to Polly and tries to pull away.

Polly playfully pushed Stephanie.

Stephanie laughs.

Matt relaxes.

                   STEPHANIE

     No, I think it’s great, Polly. It’s not

     like we’re under the watchful eye of

     parental authority. We can do whatever

     the hell we want. ...At least you’ve

     found someone.

Polly looks over Stephanie’s shoulder at Amy.

(Polly’s) POV shot of Amy sorting clothes on bed.

                   POLLY (O.S.)

     What, some crazy guy hasn’t latched onto

     you yet?

                   STEPHANIE (O.S.)

     Jesus, Polly. I have to live with her.

Amy looks up at the three and listens.

(Amy’s) POV shot of Polly, Stephanie, and Matt.

                   STEPHANIE (CONT’D)

     Besides, there are a multitude of guys

     worse than him out there. There is this

     one guy she says...

Polly looks at Amy and then back to Stephanie. Stephanie quickly changes the subject.

                   STEPHANIE (CONT’D)

I just don’t know if I’ll find someone

     as good for me as Matt, here.

Stephanie reaches out and gives Matt a playful shake.

Matt flinches and tenses up again.

Polly smiles briefly then becomes serious.

                   POLLY

     That’s the other thing, Steph. We didn’t

     ...we didn’t come here alone.

                   STEPHANIE

     What? Who else did you bring?

Polly shifts her feet and leans into Matt for support.

                   POLLY

     See, she said the that roads might be

     bad because of the weather. And that

     Matt and I might want some time for just

     the two of us. And...

Polly looks to Matt.

Matt looks into Polly’s eyes. He slowly turns his head to face Stephanie.

                   STEPHANIE

     She said you were all close. You, and

     Polly, and Amy. ...She said that you

     would be happy to see her.

Matt turns his head back toward the still open doorway.

(Matt’s) POV shot of INGRID (5'5", 100 lbs.; short blonde hair; blue eyes), a self-assured, if cold & vindictive University of Illinois freshman, entering the room. She is wearing a light winter coat and a small overnight bag.

She hands the bag to Matt and begins to take of her coat.

                   INGRID

              (to herself)

     Don’t overwhelm me with the warmth of

     your greeting.

Matt puts her bag with the others and takes Ingrid’s coat. He helps Polly take off her coat. He then looks for somewhere to put them.

Stephanie points out the closet and Matt goes over and hangs up the coats. He takes his own off but folds it over his arm.

                   INGRID

              (excitedly)

     Hey, Steph! Surprised to see me?

Amy’s head snaps up. She spins around to see

INGRID

and drops whatever clothes she was holding.

                   STEPHANIE

Yeah. More than a little surprised. I

thought you had to go home for a family

     vacation.

                   INGRID

     Nope. That’s not until summer.

Stephanie laughs nervously. She looks back at Amy.

Amy gives up on her laundry and moves over toward Matt. She takes his coat and hangs it up. Amy remains next to the closet.

Matt quickly moves back over to Polly.

Ingrid briefly looks over at Amy then turns her attention back to Stephanie.

                   STEPHANIE

     So you decided to pay us a visit? Okay.

     We can make room for you.

                   INGRID

     Oh, come on, Steph. We can’t be so

     insensitive to Matt.

Ingrid looks over to Amy.

                   INGRID (CONT’D)

     Amy, you know what I’m talking about.

     What is he supposed to do if you and

     Stephanie monopolize Polly’s time the

     whole weekend?

                   AMY

              (dryly)

     Yeah. You’re all kinds of conscientious,

     aren’t you, Ingrid?

Ingrid smiles wickedly and makes a cat claw swiping motion.

                   INGRID

     Really, Amy. I know for a fact that you

     let people of far lower character than

     me into this room with great frequency.

     What? Am I ruing your plans for the

     weekend?

Amy leans against the wall and lolls her head back.

                   AMY

     God, I hope not. I’d like to think that

     you’d have better things to do than to

     drive five hours with the meager hope of

     the chance to ruin somebody else’s good

     time.

                   INGRID

     Yeah, tell me about it. Though I would

     like to think that when it comes to

     driving for hours and having a good time

     you would be thinking about someone

     else. Someone whose school is a couple

     of hours closer. Especially if it’s a

     really good time. ...I’m just here to

     enjoy some Iowa ambience and spend some

     time with my friends. Is that so bad,

     Amy? You remember that you and I are

     friends, right?

Stephanie sighs and steps between Ingrid and Amy. She is noticeably uneasy.

                   STEPHANIE

     Come on, you two. Lighten up. Ingrid’s

     probably just worn out from the drive.

     And Ingrid, Amy doesn’t need to be

     reminded that Greg isn’t here this

     weekend.

Ingrid looks askance at Stephanie.

Amy huffs and looks away.

Ingrid looks at Amy.

                   INGRID

     Works out, though. Doesn’t it? I mean,

     it would be really crowded with all of

     us and Greg. And then none of us would

     get to spend any time with you, Amy.

     ....So, what are we doing tonight?

Amy pushes off the wall and stalks back toward her bed.

                   AMY

     I’m sure I have no idea. Stephanie made

     the plans for what she and Polly were

     going to be doing tonight.

                   POLLY

     You aren’t going out with us, Amy? Why

     not?

                   INGRID

     Something better planned?

Matt (POV) looks from Amy to Ingrid to Polly. He then looks back at his shoes.

                   MATT

              (mumbling)

     Maybe she has some schoolwork to do.

     It’s okay. We can still do...whatever.

                   STEPHANIE

     Yeah. Come on, Ingrid. We can still have

     a good time. The ZTA house is having a

     low-key thing tonight. Just members and

     a few guests.

Ingrid shakes her head and grins.

                   INGRID

     I don’t know. Maybe you were right

     before, Steph. Maybe I’m worn out from

     the drive. It might be nice to just

     spend the night relaxing and catching

     up.

                   STEPHANIE

     Amy isn’t going to be in tonight.

Amy glares at Stephanie.

Stephanie weakly smiles.

Ingrid glances back and forth at the roommates, still grinning.

                   INGRID

     So what are you doing then, Amy?

Amy starts to speak but stops. She sighs, looks away and then back at Ingrid.

                   AMY

     Actually, if you really need to know,

     I’m supposed to be playing babysitter

     for some guys in from Iowa State.

     ...They don’t know where anything is in

     town and I’m supposed to take them to a

     few parties.

                   POLLY

     Just some guys from ISU?

Amy shakes her head.

                   POLLY (CONT’D)

     Who, then?

Amy and Stephanie share a knowing glance.

                   AMY

              (looking at Ingrid)

     Is it someone you know? Yeah. One of

     them, anyway. Mike. And one of his

     fraternity brothers.

                    INGRID

     Mike? Mike who?

Ingrid’s eyes go wide and her jaw slack as she realizes which Mike.

                   INGRID

     Really? Just when I though things

     couldn’t get anymore interesting.

Amy spins around in a huff.

Stephanie half steps towards Amy and shoots an angry look at Ingrid.

Polly tires to step between Amy and Ingrid but is restrained by Matt.

                   POLLY

     Ingrid, come on. Back off a little.

                   INGRID

              (looking at Amy)

     Is this something you want to endorse,

     Polly? I mean, now that you have

     someone—

Amy turns back to face Ingrid and interrupts her.

                   AMY

     How’s that going for you, Ingrid?

Ingrid grimaces, nods her head, and takes a step back.

                   INGRID

     This isn’t about me and you know it. I

     thought we has this conversation before.

     You know how I feel about Tim. And now

     you’ve gone and gotten yourself involved

     with Mike?

                   AMY

     Mike’s just a friend.

(Over the next few lines, Amy interrupts Ingrid multiple times. Ingrid does not pause.)

                   INGRID

     Yeah. He’s somebody’s friend. He’s Tim’s

     friend. He knew—

                   AMY

     —I know, Ingrid—

                   INGRID

     —about the letters. He and Tim—

                   AMY

     —I know, Ingrid—

                   INGRID

     —have been friends since forever. And no

     matter why you’ve gotten yourself

     involved—

                   AMY

     —I fucking get it, Ingrid!—

                   INGRID

     —with Mike, it’s going to come back to

     being about Tim. And it’s going to fuck

     up your relationship with Greg.

                   AMY

              (deliberately)

     I have never done anything to threaten

     my relationship with Greg.

Matt leans forward.

                   MATT

     I think...maybe we should just wait

     outside. This doesn’t really concern us.

Ingrid cocks her head toward Matt.

                   INGRID

     No, Matt. It doesn’t concern you. Your

     interest here goes about as far as Polly

     will let you get into her pants.

                   STEPHANIE

     Ingrid!

Polly looks shocked and blushes.

Matt is half-angry, half-confused. He looks about for cues as to whether he should speak up in defense of his honor.

                   INGRID

              (unapologetic)

     Fine. Sorry. But I’m not the bad guy

     here.

                   AMY

     You’re not the altruistic friend,

     either, Ingrid. You really do derive

     some kind of perverse pleasure from all

     of this, don’t you?

Ingrid softens a little.

                   INGRID

     No, Amy. I don’t. I’m sorry if it seems

     that I do, but this all has an air of

     absurdity to it now. This is a nightmare

     that has gone on too damn long. Being

     trapped and having to deal with him in

     high school is one thing, but to keep

     it up now is some sort of endorsement of

     the situation. 

                   AMY

     It is none of your goddamn business,

     Ingrid. What the fuck do you care who I

     spend my time with? I don’t think he

     wants to hang around with you, either. I

     don’t even know if he knows who you are.

Polly laughs briefly. She looks apologetically at Amy.

                   POLLY

     Oh, I think he knows who Ingrid is. I

     mean, how many people go around

     indiscriminately attacking his character

     and impugning his honor? He does have

     friends. It must have gotten back to

     him.

                   INGRID

     Why is that my fault? All I did was not

     keep silent on a subject where everyone

     knows what is going on. Maybe if any of

     you had the courage to confront him, all

     this bullshit would be over by now.

                   MATT

              (to no one in particular)

     Well, I know now. ...I can think of

     better topics of conversation. But if

     what she says is true...he sounds kind

     of scary.

                   POLLY

     Tim is most definitely not scary. A

     little odd, sure, but he’s been like

     that since grade school.

                   MATT

     I just know what I heard.

                   AMY

     You only heard what Ingrid had to say.

     If I believed everything I heard, I

     would be convinced that you’re a virgin

     who’s as desperate to get laid as is

     humanly possible. But having met you, I

     can see that isn’t the case. You’re just

     a little afraid of girls. And there’s a

     bit of a difference between the two,

     isn’t there?

All shift awkwardly as silence builds.

Stephanie claps her hands and forces a smile.

                   STEPHANIE

     Well, this is shaping up to be a

     delightful evening. Can we stop with the

     personal attacks?

                   POLLY

     Yeah. And it probably isn’t a good idea

     for all of us to stay in. Not if it’s

     going to be like this.

                   AMY

     Dammit, Polly. I don’t want to be

     responsible for ruining anyone’s

     evening.

                   INGRID

     You sure you don’t want to blame me for

     that?

Matt chuckles but hides his head in his chest.

Amy huffs.

Stephanie steps forward in between Amy and Ingrid.

                   STEPHANIE

     We’re done with that, Ingrid. ...We

     need to decide what we’re going to do

     about tonight.

              (to Ingrid and Polly)

     We can still go out...or we can stay in

     and just swap stories right here.

              (to Amy)

     Okay? ...Why don’t you get ready for the

     guys? You still have some time.

Amy (POV) looks back at her bed, then Ingrid, and then at Stephanie.

                   STEPHANIE (CONT’D)

     I don’t think anyone is that concerned

     with your laundry. ...We can stay if you

     want.

                   AMY

     Do whatever you want, Steph. I’ll deal

     with them when they get here.

                                                CUT TO

EXT. STREET – NIGHT

TIM, a short, heavy freshman (5'6", 160 lbs.; raggedy brown hair with an underdeveloped beard; hazel eyes) wearing a worn U.S. Army jacket, a Detroit Tigers baseball cap, dark blue jeans, and hiking boots (with worn and damaged laces on the left boot) is walking with two other FIGURES down the streets of Iowa City. They are: MIKE, a tall, athletically built freshman (6'3", 165 lbs.; short light brown hair; blue eyes) who is wearing old, out of date clothes and a work coat, and CRAIG (6', 210 lbs.; dirty blonde hair; light brown eyes), a somewhat dazed sophomore who is wearing a long sleeve t-shirt, cargo shorts, and sandals. Mike is behind Tim’s left shoulder. Craig is further back, behind Tim’s right shoulder.

They are having a conversation as they approach Burge Hall, a dormitory.

                   MIKE

     ...no, she totally believed me.

                   TIM

     That’s because the Cyclones suck at

     football. You could probably convince

     half of the people here that you played

     in the Iowa - Iowa State game.

                   CRAIG

     That’s not the funniest one, though.

     Dude, tell him about the girl from the

     Subway.

                   MIKE

     No. She was just dumb.

                   CRAIG

     Oh, come on. Tell him.

                   TIM

     This isn’t going to live up to the

     billing, is it?

                   MIKE

     All that happened was I told a girl at

     Subway that I bruised my ovary and she

     said, “guys have those?”

                   CRAIG

     That’s hilarious. That has to be the

     funniest thing I have ever born witness

     to.

                   TIM

     That is kind of sad, then, Craig.

                   CRAIG

     What are you trying to say.

The three walk into Burge Hall.

                                                CUT TO

INT. HALLWAY – NIGHT

                   TIM

     I can’t believe that neither of you are

     smart enough to follow written

     directions.

Tim stops.

Mike and Craig catch up to Tim and then stop.

Tim looks over his shoulder to Mike.

                   TIM (CONT’D)

     Okay. I can’t believe you can’t follow

     directions.

Craig feigns being hurt. He clutches his light jacket to his body.

                   MIKE

              (to Tim)

     Don’t even give me that. You don’t know

     the names of any of the streets. You

     would have me wander around a strange

     college town looking for a particular

     dormitory? From what you told me, you

     couldn’t even find your classes the

     first day.

Craig chuckles.

                   CRAIG

     You couldn’t even find the school? What

     are you, some kind of stupid?

Tim starts walking again.

                   TIM

              (looking forward)

     At least I can read, Craig. But, for the

     record, I had trouble finding where one

     of my classes was supposed to be when I

     went looking for it the Sunday before

     classes started.  Yeah, it made me feel

     kind of stupid, but seeing as how I had

     no orientation and couldn’t just follow

     the herd of other students out of a

     dorm, I think it isn’t as bad as it

     sounds at first.

Mike and Craig follow Tim.

                   CRAIG

     Well, at first it makes you sound like

     an idiot who can’t find where he’s

     supposed to go.

                   TIM

     And I’d like to think, given all the

     facts, it doesn’t sound that bad. Just

     like how, at initial examination, your

     inability to follow slightly incomplete

     directions makes me think you don’t have

     the mental faculties to get through

     life.

                   CRAIG        

     I know enough to be able to recognize

     the kind of beer and porn I like. What

     more do I need in life?

Tim looks over his shoulder at Mike.

                   TIM

     He’s a winner.

                   MIKE

     You act like this is some kind of huge

     imposition on you. What did you have

     planned for tonight? Sit at home and

     watch TV?

                   TIM

     They don’t call it “must see” for

     nothing.

Craig rolls his eyes. He thumps his chest and stresses the word “us.”

                   CRAIG

     Who are you to complain about it?

     There’s no party without us.

                   TIM

     That would be a shame. You would have to

     sit in my apartment, drink my roommates’

     Beer and drool over their Playboys.

                   CRAIG

     Yeah. That isn’t that bad, either. I’m

     not ruling that out as a back-up plan.

Mike reaches out and grabs Tim by the arm. Both stop. Tim turns to face Mike.

Craig stops shortly thereafter.

                   MIKE

     Seriously, why is this a problem for

     you? It’s not like you’re not over here

     every week.

                   TIM

     Not the last couple of weeks. Not to see

     her, anyway. I got out of there before

     she came back. And that was only to get

     my copy of “The Princess Bride” back

     from Stephanie.

Tim turns and starts walking again. Mike and Craig follow.

                   MIKE

     So...you’re avoiding her? That would be

     productive.

                   TIM

              (quietly)

     Something happened.

                   MIKE

     Really? Something actually happened?

     Well, praise be and ring the bells. You

     actually did something.

                   TIM

     No, I didn’t.

                   MIKE

     Why the hell not?

                   TIM

     Because I’m not like you. I’m not going

     to throw back a few beers and forget

     about how my actions affect other

     people. You may think that cheating on

     your girlfriend isn’t a big deal, but

     I’m not going to put somebody else in

     that position. I’m not going to be that

     guy.

                   CRAIG

     What a fuckin’ boy scout.

Tim stops. Mike and Craig stop immediately after. Tim turns to face them both.

                   TIM

     Mike and I were both in the Boy Scouts,

     Craig. I took some of that oath to

     heart. There is something to being

     respectful of others, in not being out

     for yourself above all else.

                   MIKE

              (to Tim)

     That doesn’t mean you have to be

     joyless. You don’t have to be such a wet

     fucking blanket. Having a beer isn’t

     going to kill you.

Tim grimaces.

                   MIKE (CONT’D)

     You wouldn’t even call her.

                   TIM

     I wouldn’t call to make plans for you.

     And I’m not really sure why I had to

     call to verify those plans. You’re under

     the delusion that you and Amy are

     friends. You fancy yourself a lady’s

     man. I would think that you would have

     little need for me in this scenario.

                   CRAIG

     Hear-hear.

                   MIKE

     They aren’t my plans. It isn’t me and

     her—

                   TIM

              (jokingly)

     —She and I.

                   MIKE

              (jokingly)

     Fuck you, too.

              (normal)

     It isn’t excluding you. It isn’t about

     taking her away from you. It’s about

     having a good time with friends. And

     it’s “she and me” anyway.

                   CRAIG

              (to Tim, in an annoying tone)

     Don’t you want to be my friend?

                   TIM

              (to Mike)

     My mind is made up, okay? And it’s

     either “she and I” or “her and me,”

     depending on whether it’s the subject or

     the object of the sentence.

                   MIKE

     Jesus Christ, you anal retentive

     bastard! I just want to go to a few

     parties or something. I don’t think

     that’s too much to ask.

                    CRAIG

     Nothing wrong with fun.

                   TIM

              (to Mike)

     You made these plans with her. She knows

     you’re coming. My job is just to deliver

     you and leave.

Tim starts walking again. Mike and Craig immediately follow.

                   MIKE

     What the fuck, Tim? I thought all that

     petty shit was behind the two of you. So

     unless you actually have something

     better planned you should come out with

     us. ...Have some fun, for Christ’s sake.

     Besides, won’t it just piss her off if

     you’re not there with us?

Tim offers up a weak smile and shakes his head.

                   TIM

     I don’t think so. I can honestly say

     that she and I have never gone out or

     even made plans to go out to do

     something. The limits of my privileges

     in her life has been to be allowed the

     occasional visit. Things aren’t even

     accommodating that right now.

Tim stops in front of a door. The number on it reads

4200

Craig shifts back and forth uneasily waiting for Tim to knock.

                   MIKE

     So? Change them. That is why you came

     here. Yeah, you’re an English major and

     this is Iowa. But you’re here because of

     her. So spend tonight with her and have

     a good time.

Tim takes off his hat and brushes back his hair. He sighs and looks Mike in the eye.

                   TIM

     I’m also here because no other school

     would take me. Besides, “fun” means

     different things to you and me.

Tim reaches out his left hand to the door. There is a

TATTOO

“99%” written beneath his thumb.

(CU) He stretches out his fingers and touches the door. He slowly curls his fingers into a fist and pounds the door three times.

                   MIKE

              (under his breath)

     I don’t think you have any idea what fun

     is. Or happiness.

Door opens. Tim is face to face with

STEPHANIE

Tim straightens up.

                   STEPHANIE

     Tim? ...Come on in.

(Craig’s) POV of Tim and Mike walking into room. Stephanie backs away to where Polly, Ingrid, and Matt are. Craig follows.

                                           SCENE BECOMES

INT. DORM ROOM — NIGHT

Polly, Matt, and Ingrid are sitting on sleeping bags laid upon the floor. They are watching television.

Stephanie shrugs as she looks from Mike to Tim. She motions them toward the two chairs in the room. One of the chairs is occupied with various school related object.

Stephanie forces a smile.

                   STEPHANIE

     Have a seat.

(Camera pans) Craig looks to Mike, Mike looks to Tim. Tim closes his eyes and shakes his head.

Mike pats Craig on the shoulder.

                   MIKE

     All yours.

Craig cautiously moves toward the open chair.

Stephanie happily turns and walks to her bed. She plops down upon it and half turns toward the television.

Matt acts as though he is oblivious to the new arrivals. Polly is comfortable in Matt’s arms, but becomes distracted by Ingrid’s reaction to Tim’s arrival.

Ingrid tenses up.

                   INGRID

              (quietly, to Polly)

     I told you. I fucking told you.

Mike looks back to Tim and smiles.

Tim hangs his head and steps closer to Mike.

                   TIM

     Just sit down, okay?

Mike jumps a little. He creeps over to Amy’s bed which is still covered with clothes. He sits at the mid point of the bed and spins so that he is lying down with his head on the pillow.

Mike puts his hands behind his head and smiles broadly.

Tim retreats to be near the door.

                   POLLY

              (quietly, to Ingrid)

     Didn’t see that coming, did you?

                   INGRID

              (quietly, to Polly)

     Oh, this was worth the drive.

                  

                                                CUT TO

INT. DORMITORY WASHROOM — NIGHT

Amy is in a shower stall. The water is on. Amy is facing the shower head. Shot is from the small of her back up.

Shot slowly tightens as it raises to her head and shoulders.

Amy turns to face camera. She is crying. She pushes hair away from her face. She slumps against back wall and slides down into a crouch; arms conveniently cover her breasts. She sniffs meaningfully.

(CU) Amy’s face. She wipes her eyes.

                   AMY

     No. Not over this. I’m not going to cry

     over this.

Amy sighs. She looks up and has to close her eyes because of the spray. She offers a light laugh.

                                           BACK TO SCENE

Tim exhales and checks his watch. He gets Stephanie’s attention.

                   TIM

              (half-asking)

     You can take it from here.

Stephanie looks shocked and rises from her bed. She meets Tim by the door.

                   TIM

     What?

                   STEPHANIE

     Where do you think you’re going?

                   TIM

     What do you want from me?

                   STEPHANIE

     You can’t leave before she gets back.

Camera pans over to Polly, Ingrid, and Matt.

Ingrid leans over to Polly.

                   INGRID

              (quietly, to Polly)

     What is she doing?

                   POLLY

              (quietly, to Ingrid)

     I think she is asking him to wait for

     Amy.

Camera pans back to Tim and Stephanie.

Tim smirks but doesn’t look Stephanie in the eye.

                   TIM

     I don’t need to be here.

                   STEPHANIE

     Mike’s your friend.

                   TIM

     Yeah, he is. But Amy invited him here. I

     was supposed to drop him off.

(Tim’s) POV – Mike is reading a shirt on Amy’s bed.

                   TIM (CONT’D) 

     There he is...dropped off.

Stephanie looks confused.

                   STEPHANIE

     What about his friend? I don’t know him.

                   TIM

              (raises his voice)

     I don’t know him, either.

Tim composes himself.

                   TIM (CONT’D)

     And I don’t know what I’m supposed    to be

     doing here. I was supposed to bring Mike

     over. He was invited tonight, not me. He

     and Craig.

                   STEPHANIE

     She said that? Or do you believe it

     because she told Mike you were acting

     like an ass?

                   TIM

     She isn’t going to want me here, okay.

     That’s a good enough reason for me to

     go.

Camera pans back to Ingrid & Polly.

                   POLLY

              (quietly, to Ingrid)

     I wonder why she doesn’t just let him go

     if he wants to go.

                   INGRID

              (quietly, to Polly)

     I think there is something that we

     missed. She’s hiding and he’s running.

     What does that say to you?

Polly shrugs.

Matt pulls Polly close and shushes the two young women.

Camera pans over to Craig. He is picking at something caught in the tread of his sandal. He looks very bored.

                   CRAIG

              (to Mike)

     What’s going on?

Mike shrugs.

                   CRAIG (CONT’D)

     I don’t know anybody here.

Mike sits up and gets Stephanie’s attention.

                   MIKE

     I’m sorry. This is my fraternity

     brother, Craig.

(Mike’s) POV – pan of the room. Everyone looks confused as to what Mike is doing.

                   MIKE (CONT’D)

     We’re just in town for the night. We

     wanted to go out...go to some parties or

     something...Amy was supposed to meet us

     here.

                   STEPHANIE

              (to Craig)

     Nice to meet you, Craig. I’m Stephanie.

Stephanie slowly makes her way across the room and back to her bed. She introduces Polly, Matt, and Ingrid on the way.

                   STEPHANIE (CONT’D)

     This is Polly. And this is Matt, her

     boyfriend. And this is Ingrid.

Tim’s head snaps up. He glares angrily at Stephanie, who is not facing him.

Tim looks to Mike. Mike barely shrugs.

Stephanie reaches her bed and sits back down.

                   STEPHANIE (CONT’D)

     Matt, this is Craig, Mike, and Tim. I’ve

     known Mike and Tim since grade school.

Matt looks to Ingrid and then to the three guys.

                   MATT

     Hey. Mike? Craig?

Matt cautiously looks over to Tim.

                   MATT (CONT’D)

     Tim? ...You’re Tim, huh?

                   TIM

          (Sensing that he has already been

          discussed)

     Yeah.

                   INGRID

           (very quietly, anticipating Matt’s answer)

     Oh. I’ve heard so much about you.

Matt flinches a little at Ingrid’s remark.

                   MATT

     Well...hey. I guess the rest of you

     already know one another, then.

Ingrid smiles evilly.

                   INGRID

     Yes, except for...

Craig nods but still looks disinterested.

                   CRAIG

     Craig.

                   INGRID

     Yes, the rest of us do know one another.

     We went to the same high school.

Tim huffs and walks over to be between the two beds. Ingrid tenses up as Tim walks past her.

Polly leans over to say something to Ingrid, but Matt pulls her close and whispers in her ear. The two of them resume watching the TV.

                   TIM

              (to Stephanie, quiet but angry)

     Ingrid.

                   STEPHANIE

     Yeah. So what?

                   TIM

     You don’t know?

Stephanie shakes her head.

                   TIM (CONT’D)

     She’s the one who told Jaime I was a

     “total fucking psycho.”

                   STEPHANIE

     Jaime? Why?

                   TIM

     Because of the letters.

Mike starts picking through clothes on the bed.

                   MIKE

              (to Tim)

     Your own fault, you know. And why did

     you ever write more than just the one?

Tim glares at Ingrid.

                   TIM

              (to Stephanie)

     If I had known it was her.....I can’t

     stay.

                   MIKE

              (comically)

     If you knew it was her.

              (seriously)

     Just relax. You’re stuck here. You might

     as well come out with us, then.

                   STEPHANIE

     Yeah, Tim, it’s going to be okay. Ingrid

     can’t do anything about tonight. She’s

     just sitting over there watching TV.

                   TIM

     She probably didn’t expect me to be

     here.

                   STEPHANIE

     No. As a matter of fact, that was one of

     the first things she asked Amy about.

                   MIKE

     Take it as a compliment and move on.

                   TIM

     She’s maligned me enough in the past for

     me to dwell on this a bit.

                   STEPHANIE

     I don’t know if I agree with that. But

     if you really want to know what she

     thinks of you, all you need to do is

     take a long car ride with her. ...Of

     course, if you just want to settle the

     score, she’s sitting right over there.

(Tim’s) POV – Ingrid watching TV. She briefly looks up and meets his glare with one of her own.

                   MIKE (O.S.)

     Or you could just grow up.

Mike shifts uncomfortably on the bed and digs an object out of the pile and tosses it to the floor.

                   MIKE (CONT’D)

     Come out with us. Part of this whole

     college experience, of being young, is

     getting beyond the notion that enjoying

     yourself is somehow wrong. There isn’t

     much Ingrid can do to ruin your evening

     if she’s stuck here.

                   TIM

     I’m not going out with you and Amy. I

     don’t want to go and she wouldn’t want

     me there.

                   STEPHANIE

              (to Tim)

     I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.

Tim hits his head against the wall behind him.

                   TIM

              (to Stephanie)

     You just don’t like Greg.

                   STEPHANIE

     That’s not what I—

                   MIKE

     I never heard that story.

                   STEPHANIE

     It’s not a story. I just said that, when

     I was drunk, that I really like Greg and

     that Amy should marry him.

                   MIKE

     And that means you don’t like Greg?

                        STEPHANIE

     No. Tim knows what I’m talking about. I

     told him about how when I was super

     drunk, I told Amy about how great I

     thought Greg was and how they should get

     married.  And that I felt like a total

     ass for telling her that once I sobered

     up because I think that Greg is pretty

     bad for her.  And that she may have some

     better options out there.

                        TIM

     Yeah, you don’t like Greg. And that

     doesn’t make this right.

                   STEPHANIE

     Well, he’s not here, is he?

                   MIKE

     I looked. He isn’t.

Mike picks out a pair of purple lace panties. He holds them up and shows them to Craig, Tim, and Stephanie.

                    MIKE (CONT’D)

     Sexy.

Craig chuckles dumbly.

Tim slaps Mike’s hand. Mike drops the panties.

                   TIM

     Behave yourself.

                   MIKE

     I’m bored.

                   TIM

     I don’t care. You don’t go digging

     through somebody else’s dirty clothes.

Mike picks the panties back up and smiles.

                   MIKE

              (imitating Homer Simpson)

     Worn panties. Sexy.

Mike sniffs panties.

Tim slaps the panties out of Mike’s hands again, much harder this time.

                   INGRID (O.S.)

     A little presumptive, isn’t he?

                   POLLY (O.S.)

     Mike? Or Tim? I think you’ve read this

     wrong.

(CU) — Door opens. Amy enters room. She is dressed in a beige bathrobe. She closes the door behind her.

Tim walks across the room and corners Amy near the door.

                   TIM

     Hey.

                   AMY

              (annoyed)

     What?

                   TIM

     I thought you said Stephanie and Polly

     were going to be out.

                   AMY

     That’s what I was told, too. So what?

                   TIM

     And Ingrid?

                   AMY

     I didn’t know she was coming.

Tim gives Amy a look of disbelief.

                   AMY (CONT’D)

     I didn’t. I would have told you if I had

     known. Listen, I know how you feel about

     Ingrid. I wouldn’t have you two come

     together without some kind of a warning.

     Fuck, were it up to me, the two of you

     would go the rest of your natural lives

     without any interest or involvement with

     one another. I know she isn’t a big fan

     of yours, either. This could be

     something really unseemly, and I don’t

     want to have to deal with the aftermath

     of that.

(Tim’s) POV – Mike and Craig.

                   TIM (O.S.)

     Well, they’re here. You can do with them

     what you will.

Tim turns to leave.

Amy reaches out and grabs Tim by the arm. She pulls him back so that the two of them are face-to-face.

                   AMY

     You can’t just drop them off.

                   TIM

     People keep telling me that. But you and

     I agreed that I would just drop them

     off, didn’t we?

Amy huffs.

                   AMY

     Let me get dressed.

Tim stands, staring.

                   AMY (CONT’D)

     Okay?

Tim nods and looks away.

Amy enters the closet to change clothes.

Tim walks back over between Mike and Stephanie on the beds.

Mike is going through prescription medicine bottles on the table next to Amy’s bed.

                   STEPHANIE

              (to Tim)

     So...what do you think of Matt?

                   TIM

     Not much.

                   STEPHANIE

              (not noticing Tim’s disinterest)

     Polly called me about two months ago to

     tell me about him.

Tim offers up a sarcastic “good for you” expression.

                   STEPHANIE (CONT’D)

     She was so excited. She had never been

     kissed before. Not for real. She didn’t

     even think he could be interested in

     her, but I guess he’s kind of shy and it

     took a while for things to develop.

                   TIM

     Hey, great. Doesn’t really help me,

     though, does it?

                   MIKE

     Hey, it offers hope to the least of us.

Tim notices Mike fiddling with a bottle of medicine.

                   TIM

     Put the fucking medicine down! Now.

                   CRAIG

              (to Tim, giggling)

     Chill, dude. He isn’t hurting anything.

     If it were something embarrassing, I’m

     sure she wouldn’t just leave it out.

Tim glares at Craig. Craig looks away. Tim sighs.

(Tim’s) POV – Polly and Matt watching television.

                   TIM (O.S.)

     Hey, Polly. I heard you guys were going

     to be out tonight.

Polly smiles. Matt hugs her close.

                   POLLY

     Yeah, but Ingrid was tired. And we

     didn’t want to risk the bars. You know,

     trying out the I.D.s at a different

     campus and all. So we decided we could

     have just as good a time if we stayed in.

                   TIM (O.S.)

     Really? Well, if you’re not going

     drinking, you probably are better off

     staying in. I know I had planned to

     tonight.

Ingrid leans over and whispers to Polly.

                   INGRID

              (very quietly)

     I’ll just bet he did.

Polly flinches.

Amy emerges from the closet. She is wearing a sweatshirt, jeans, and white socks.

Camera pans room from trio on floor to Stephanie, then Tim, and finally Mike. Mike is again going through her medicine bottles.

                   AMY (O.S.)

     Looking for something, Michael?

                   MIKE

              (innocently)

     My throat is sore. I was hoping I could

     take something.

                   AMY (O.S.)

     Really?

Mike nods innocently and quickly sets the medicine back on the table.

Amy shoots and angry look at Tim and then to Mike.

                   AMY (CONT’D)

     Well, if you’re not feeling well,

     perhaps we shouldn’t go out tonight.

Amy walks over to her bed.

                   TIM

               (to Amy, quiet but forcefully)

     No. You do not have me drag them here

     from Ames and then decide you don’t want

     to do anything. That’s not fair to them

     or to me.

Amy cocks her head to indicate Ingrid.

                   AMY

     Things have changed, Tim. I would think

     that you could find some way to

     appreciate that. ...Maybe we could just

     hang out here.

                   TIM

     The eight of us? No thank you.

Amy stares at Tim.

                   TIM

     Look, if you want us to go, all you have

     to do is ask.

                   AMY

              (softly)

     Please leave.

Tim reaches down and helps Mike out of Amy’s bed. They gather Craig out of the chair and start him toward the door.

Mike pauses to speak.

                   MIKE

              (to Matt)

     Nice to meet you.

              (to the ladies)

     Stephanie, Polly, Ingrid...goodnight.

     Amy, ...I’ll call you later.

                   AMY

              (distantly)

     Okay.

Craig reaches door and opens it. He stands waiting in doorway as Mike and Tim reach him.

                   AMY (CONT’D)

     Yeah, I think we’re just going to go to

     bed.

Tim’s face brightens as he turns back to face the girls.

                   TIM

              (with comic flourish)

     Well, why didn’t you say so? And we were

     just about to leave.

Ingrid looks surprised.

                   INGRID

     I knew it.

Polly smiles. Matt looks confused.

Stephanie stifles a laugh.

Amy glares at Tim with Hell’s Own Fury.

                   TIM

     No? That’s a shame, because the numbers

     worked.

                   STEPHANIE

              (mock outrage)

     Tim!

Craig and Mike exit. Tim bows for effect.

                   TIM

     Okay, then. Goodnight, all.

Tim exits and closes the door behind him.

                                                CUT TO

INT. DORMITORY HALLWAY — NIGHT

Tim, Mike, and Craig stand outside the door. They begin their egress from the building.

                   MIKE

     You know, you’re going to pay for that.

                   TIM

              (Unconvincingly)

     She’ll forget about it.

              (Normal tone)

     It isn’t like I’m the center of her

     world. Besides, I’ve already been

     forgiven for worse. I doubt this is

     going to be the final straw.

                   MIKE

     At some point, all these transgressions

     are going to be enough. You would be

     better off not acting like that.

                   CRAIG

              (to Tim)

     You and that girl have something going

     on, don’t you? That’s why you were all

     pissed off that Mike had his hands in

     her panties.

Tim starts to answer but Mike cuts him off.

                   MIKE

              (to Craig)

     No, they don’t. Not anything like you’re

     thinking.

              (to Tim)

     But tell me, Tim, do you think that’s

     what Ingrid saw?

                   TIM

     Hey, fuck her! If I knew it was her when

     we went in there—

                   MIKE

     If you knew it was her? What the fuck,

     Tim? How could you not know it was her?

     You went to high school with her. She

     was in our chemistry class. ...And what

     would you have done anyway, huh? I’ll

     tell you what. You would have sat and

     stewed and not done a goddamn thing,

     which is eerily similar to what just

     happened! If you knew it was her. Maybe

     it’s time you empower yourself in some

     other way than in the hypotheticals in

     your head.

All stop. Craig retreats a step. Tim and Mike face one another.

                   TIM

     You have something to say? I sure could

     use some advice from the guy who cheated

     on his girlfriend the first weekend of

     college, the guy who doesn’t know well

     enough not to dig through other people’s

     personal property.

                   MIKE

     I wasn’t the problem in there!

                   TIM

     The hell you weren’t! I wasn’t the one

     causing a scene. I’m not the one with no

     fucking sense of proper boundaries or

     showing the minimal amount of respect to

     somebody by not digging through their

     personal belongings. I could have been

     at home.

                   CRAIG

     Dude, your home’s back in Illinois.

Tim turns angrily toward Craig.

                   TIM

     Hey, fuck you, too, booze hound! You’re

     about as useful as tits on a bull. You

     make people uncomfortable.

Craig steps up to confront Tim.

                   CRAIG

     I was just chillin’ in there, dude. I

     didn’t piss your girl off. She didn’t

     ask me to leave. That was on you. Maybe

     I should just—

Mike steps between Craig and Tim. Mike shoves Craig back.

                   MIKE

              (to Craig)

     Back off, Craig. You don’t appreciate

     the situation.

              (to Tim)

     And neither do you. You don’t want to

     hear it? Too fucking bad! I wasn’t the

     problem in there. You could have stayed

     home? That would have been helpful. You   

     didn’t come to Iowa to hide from her.

     For Christ’s sake, everybody knows why

     you’re here. Ingrid fucking knows. You

     think not being there tonight is going

     to quash suspicion in her mind? You

     think that brooding and being unpleasant

     says “she and I are just friends?”

     You’re fucking kidding yourself.

                   TIM

     I don’t need you telling me what to do.

                   MIKE

But do you know why? ...Because you

     never fucking do anything! The only

     advice you would take is to be an

     obstacle to your own success and

     happiness. Everything else gets written

     off with some twisted belief that not

     owning up to what you are feeling is the

     same thing as being a good person.

               (Pause)

     What did it matter that Ingrid was

     there? You could have just swallowed

     your goddamn pride and been polite. Or

     gone off on her. What the fuck do I

     care? You could have said, “Amy, it

     would mean a lot to me if you would

     still take Mike and Craig out.” And she

     would have done it because you asked.

     Instead you bark fucking orders. You

     wouldn’t ask her and you never will. You

     fucking pine for this girl and she’s

     right there! You want to know something?

     Not dating her, or fucking her, or

     whatever you have in mind isn’t some

     high and mighty moral act so long as you

     really want to. And why don’t you? What,

     are you afraid of Greg? I can’t believe

     that. I’ve seen you beat the hell out of

     guys twice your size. And over what? And

     how long were you upset about that?

     ...What then? You think you and Amy

     wouldn’t last? You wouldn’t! You’ve

never had anything approaching a healthy

relationship. But that doesn’t mean you

     shouldn’t try. Or start trying, if

     you’re serious about ever being with

     anyone. You can’t live with yourself if

     you lose her? Then try being an actual

     friend and put some energy into finding

     a girl of your own. But it’s fucking

time you grow up and stop this pointless

obsession! I don’t want to hear about

     this for the next decade, okay? I don’t

     want to raise a glass with you to

     celebrate the anniversary of her

     throwing you out of her life. I don’t.

     I want you to be happy, Tim, but it

     isn’t my job to do it for you. I’m not

     here to tell you what to do. You have to

     figure that out for yourself. I didn’t

     ruin anything for you here. She doesn’t

     look at me and see you.

                   CRAIG

     But you were the one who got to fondle

     her privies.

              (to Tim)

     Looks like you’ll never get to do the

     same.

Tim takes a step toward Craig. Craig takes a half-step back and stumbles and falls to the ground.

Mike laughs.

Tim turns back to face Mike.

                   MIKE

     You want to go back? Then do it. God

     helps those who help themselves, you

     know.

                   TIM

     I thought some of the actual moral code

     would have stuck with you.  We are

     supposed to do what is right because it

     is the right fucking thing to do. We

     aren’t supposed to be worried about what

     we get out of it.

                   CRAIG

     No wonder you’re so miserable.

                   MIKE

     But you don’t do anything, Tim! Here is   

     your chance to make a difference in your

     life. You can go back to her room and

     say what you need to. You tell her what

     you want and what she means to you. Or

     we can all be in the same boat: outside

     on a cold night with nothing to do.

Tim indicates Craig.

                   TIM

     Wearing shorts like stupid, here.

                   MIKE

     What’s it going to be, Tim?

Tim scratches his chin and sighs.

                   TIM

     I’m hungry. Come on, I’ll take you to

     the place where they have those two

     pound burritos.

                   CRAIG

     You’d rather get a burrito than go back

     there and fuck that girl? You’re nuts,

     dude.

                   TIM

     It doesn’t much matter what I’d rather,

     Craig. The situation is one that I don’t

     think I can step back into right now...

     with or without the audience we’d have.

                   MIKE

     I wasn’t kidding about my throat. I

     wasn’t looking through those bottle to

     be an asshole.

All three resume walking.

                   TIM

     Well, then, I can add the University

     hospital to the grand tour. You may as

     well see the largest employer in the

     state.

                   CRAIG

     Yeah, that’s a lot better than parties

     and drinking and loose sorority girls.

     You’ve got a great friend, here, Mike.

                   MIKE

     Sometimes. Sometimes it’s hard to tell.

                   TIM

     You don’t think this is memorable?

                   MIKE

     Oh, no, it is. I was just looking for a

     night I could forget.

All three walk out of frame.

                                                FADE OUT

THE END