Tài liệu Writing the short film 3th - Part 49 docx

AMANDA’S HOUSE—AFTERNOON Thomas sits on his trusty 1940 Schwinn Classic bicycle, his brown-bag lunch sits in the plastic basket hanging above the front tire.. DEAD LETTER OFFICE—AFTERNOO

AMANDA (V.O.)

My dearest Joshua As always, I miss you with everything I am

EXT AMANDA’S HOUSE—AFTERNOON

Thomas sits on his trusty 1940 Schwinn Classic bicycle, his brown-bag lunch sits in the plastic basket hanging

above the front tire A speedometer and mileage counter are attached to the handlebars, and two “U.S Postal”

saddlebags hang from the seat Thomas takes a bite out

of his sandwich, his eyes never leaving Amanda’s front door

AMANDA (V.O.) Christmas is coming, as it tends to do each year, and I am still in solitude This time of year holds

no joy, only loneliness

Amanda stands on her front porch, completely unaware

of Thomas’s watchful eyes She is trying to hang a

wreath on her door, but just can’t seem to get it

AMANDA Darn it!

Thomas looks on with an aching love Her frustration is not hers alone He cringes as she tries and fails

STEVE, another mailman, comes walking down the

sidewalk Thomas jumps at the sound of his voice

STEVE Hey, Tom Whatchya doin’?

Thomas quickly glances at Amanda His foot kicks the

pedal

THOMAS

I was was just eatin’ my sandwich, here

STEVE Awful far for lunch ain’t it?

THOMAS

I was just, here, on the route

Aw yeah, I didn’t think you delivered here no more

THOMAS

I, ah, yeah, I had myself transferred to the office

STEVE The office?

Thomas starts the bike in motion

THOMAS

It was good seeing you, Steve

Steve smiles uncertainly

STEVE Yeah, you too

Thomas makes like a tree

Amanda finally hangs her wreath and, with a last glance, walks inside and closes the door

The wreath hangs as a delicate symbol of Christmas, then falls to the ground with a loud SMASH

CUT TO: INT DEAD LETTER OFFICE—AFTERNOON

Thomas sits reading the last of Cyrano The brown-bag lunch finished and crumpled in front of him Chuck appears from the back of the room

He holds up a very tacky, see-through negligee

CHUCK Deb’s secret Santa gift What do you think?

Thomas looks up from his readings

THOMAS You bought that?

CHUCK Naw, it was in the back Package didn’t have a return address Saved myself five bucks

I guess it’s the thought that counts

CHUCK Damn right What’d you get for your ole’ lady?

THOMAS

Oh, I I wouldn’t even know what to She deserves more than I could give her

Chuck shoves his lacy gift in a drawer and begins to

throw letters into their appointed boxes

CHUCK Still haven’t talked to her, huh?

THOMAS

Uh, not yet

Chuck faces Thomas

CHUCK Fupper, you gotta take the bull by the balls

He crumples the letter he is holding into a ball

CHUCK This Stevie Wonder, secret lover crap has gone on for much too long

THOMAS It’s still too early

CHUCK It’s been two years! She writes to her dead husband for God sakes; you can’t tell me she doesn’t need a friend

THOMAS

I don’t want to rush it

Chuck shrugs his shoulders

CHUCK Hey, it’s your day at the track, but if you ask me,

no one likes to bet on a horse that shows

The SOUND of Thomas’s bicycle

CUT TO: EXT AMANDA’S HOUSE

Thomas sits on his bike across the street straightening his bow tie A suit that appears to be one size too small rests on his bony frame A single daisy sits in his basket

THOMAS Hello, my name is Thomas Fupper I’m a mailman

at the uh, post office, and I’ve been reading

He takes a deep breath, smoothes his eyebrows, grabs the flower, and dismounts his bike

EXT AMANDA’S FRONT WALK Thomas approaches the cement walkway

THOMAS Hello, my name is Thomas Fupper I’ve been

I mean I work at the Dead Letter Office Thomas’s footsteps falter His last remaining words sink in, and he halts, his foot near the edge of the path He stares as if seeing the house for the first time

Go! Go, Goddammit! Nothing Thomas wilts, he can’t go through with it He gingerly lays the daisy down on the cement slab of the walkway He retraces his steps, a beaten man Thomas speeds away just as Amanda rounds the corner and comes to her walkway A daisy

She picks up the abandoned flower and looks around No one Must have fallen out of a bunch She moves toward her house, cradling the flower

CUT TO:

INT AMANDA’S HOUSE—NIGHT

The daisy sits in a glass on Amanda’s T.V dinner stand She’s eating a Swanson frozen dinner “Beef Surprise.”

The television blares some nonsensical movie of the

week, in which Amanda is deeply involved

We PULL OUT to reveal a set of men’s clothing neatly

laid out as if someone was sitting there Beside the suit

is a small child’s outfit, propped under the invisible

man’s arm It looks like a normal family at rest, minus the family Amanda reaches over and takes the empty

sleeve in her hand, as if taking the arm of a loved one

A distracted smile remains on her face

CUT TO:

INT THOMAS’S APARTMENT—NIGHT

The dingy little room is lit by a single lightbulb hanging from the cracked ceiling Thick, floral print wallpaper

clings to the sheet rock A Charlie Brown Christmas tree slouches in the corner

A picture of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers dancing in the snow is taped to the wall

Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer laments from the

television

Thomas sits in an overstuffed armchair (The next

sequence of shots will be done as we dolly behind

Thomas’s head.) He raises a cup of cider to his lips

Drinks Lowers the cup

Drinks again The cup disappears from sight He raises his hand and places a gun in his mouth

Christmas lights blink The steel barrel knocks against

his teeth A tear rolls down his sallow cheek Rudolph

Thomas yanks the gun out of his mouth and sinks down onto the orange shag rug The gun slips from his

fingers

GRAPHIC MATCH:

INT DEAD LETTER OFFICE—DAY

A child’s drawing of Santa lying in a pool of blood Below,

in the hand writing of an eight-year-old, are the words:

SANTA LIES

Chuck shakes his head as he examines it.

CHUCK Merry Christmas Jesus

Thomas sorts through hundreds of letters Boss comes busting in More letters, and he’s not pleased

BOSS

I wish I was packing If I was packing, I’d blow some heads clear off their necks

Thomas gingerly takes the sacks from his boss Resigned

to being unarmed, Boss sinks into a chair

BOSS

At least it’s the last day of this holiday horseshit

CHUCK That’s more in the spirit, Boss

BOSS You can suck my spirit

Chuck drops his bag and faces Boss

CHUCK Now, did the good man from the North Pole person really piss in your Corn Flakes? Or does being an ass hole just die hard?

BOSS You have a problem with me, Mr Slates?

CHUCK

In fact I do Tom and I were wondering why people like you find it necessary to puke on everybody else’s parade?

BOSS This true, Fupper?

Thomas looks up, dazed

THOMAS Yeah, sure

CHUCK You’d think you were the only guy ever to get his ass kicked by a holiday

Boss stands up

BOSS You want to know the last time I ever celebrated Christmas? December 24, 1959 That’s the last time my mother ever brought home a stinking pair

of orange jogging pants Every year she’d come home from that stinkin’ pants factory and every year she’d have that brown paper package Three pairs of extra-large orange jogging pants You know what that does to a kid, havin’ to go back after every Christmas break wearin’ oversized, polyester orange pants Let me tell you, it teaches you that Christmas good tidings don’t last much past the twenty-fifth of the month

Thomas and Chuck stand silent

BOSS

So I decide I’m not gonna do it no more, not this year She walks in with this big ham-hock-eatin’ grin

on and hands me that package I flung that orange bomb so hard across the room I could hear it tearin’

in mid-flight, “I’m not wearin’ those fuckin’ orange pants no more!!! I hate ‘em and I hate you!” Well

my mother, she starts to cry and she doesn’t stop,

in fact she keeps cryin’ right out the front door I looked over at that torn brown package and there they were, pretty as could be, a pair of spankin’

new blue jeans That’s the last time I ever saw the woman who gave me this rat trap of a life See, I’m not pretending my life isn’t an empty piece of crap

So if it pleases you to eat your turkey and shove a couple of potatoes down your gizzard, then be my guest Just leave me the fuck alone