Eric Sazer

The Publish Button

There’s a deep inner need to publish…right away, that is. It’s as if the idea already created in WordPress, saved, locked away from vultures, cannot remain in draft format. Why not let the idea sit there, collect a little bit of digital dust? Do I fear the idea, after a good night’s rest, will become nullified? That my Scorpio stingers will emit a toxic ray into the piece, tear it down, leave the page empty again. God forbid empty pages appear out of nowhere! Do they all need to be filled?

Starting now, that little blue publish button on WordPress will be on lock-down. I guarantee that the words before you will have sat overnight. Call it slow cook publishing. It gives my mind to catch up with my wild soul. It is my soul that writes. My mind that edits.

What has not edited though is the last bit of the unfinished screenplay titled Descent, directly below. I’ll go into an analysis on this script in a future post. Right now, I’d like to thank the Gods, the Muses, the creative forces above, below and elsewhere for aiding the scriptwriting process. Sure the concept is a bit immature but had it not been for this script, it’s likely there would be no blog. I’m looking forward to hearing thoughts on where this script could go, if anywhere. Are the characters interesting? What confuses you? What do you need more of? Ahh! Here it is…

              EXT. LOG CABIN - DAY

               Will lifts a floorboard off the porch.   Reaches his hand
               inside.

               Nearby, a rifle is cocked.   Kate points the gun in Will's
               direction.

                                   KATE
                         Looking for this?

                                   WILL
                         Oh God, Kate.  I was coming to look
                         for you.

                                   KATE
                         With a rifle?

                                   WILL
                             (laughs)
                         Well, that was just in case...

               Kate lowers the rifle.  Hands it to Will.

                                   KATE
                         You see, Will, we are nothing
                         alike.  Knowing you, you'd show up
                         with a loaded rifle and then blow
                         my brains out.   Go ahead.  Shoot
                         me.   

               Will places the rifle underneath the porch.  Covers it with
               the loose floorboard.

                                   WILL
                         No.  Damian will be here soon.   He
                         needs your help. 

                                   KATE
                         Why?

                                   WILL
                         His friend, Charlie, got injured. 
                             (beat)
                         How's your aunt?

               Kate withdraws a cigarette.  Lights it.  Takes a few puffs.

                                   KATE
                         Not well.

                                   WILL
                         Can I see her?

                                   KATE
                         Never.

                                   WILL
                         We've become friends.

                                   KATE
                         As friendly as you were with my
                         daughter?

                                   WILL
                         They're here!

               Damian pushes through the thicket.  Charlie, unconscious,
               draped over Damian's shoulder.

               Kate runs toward Damian.  The two lower Charlie to the
               ground.

                                   KATE
                         You should have left him where you
                         found him.

                                   DAMIAN
                         Did what I thought was right.

               Kate pushes Damian out of the way.

                                   KATE
                         Leave me.  I'll be alright.

               INT/EXT. LOG CABIN - DAY

               Will cracks open a beer.

               Damian grabs the bottle of beer from the youth.

                                   DAMIAN
                         You crazy?   Kate's right outside.

                                   WILL
                         So?

               Damian peers out the window.  Observes Kate tending to the
               unconscious Charlie.

                                   DAMIAN
                         So, she's a stickler.  She sees you
                         with that beer and you'll be back
                         on the mainland in some sort of
                         institution.   

                                   WILL
                         I'll probably wind up there anyhow.

                                   DAMIAN
                         Will!

               Will reaches for the bottle of beer.

                                   WILL
                         Give me a sip.

                                   DAMIAN
                             (beat)
                         A sip.

               Damian clutches the bottle as Will takes a sip.

               Thirst quenched, Will takes a seat on the bed.

                                   WILL
                         I need you to distract Kate.

                                   DAMIAN
                         C'mon!  What the hell you gonna do?

                                   WILL
                         Pay a visit to Mrs. Argrove.

                                   DAMIAN
                         No.  Not while Kate is here.

                                   WILL
                         You kissing Kate's ass.

                                   DAMIAN
                         I'm protecting you.

               Kate rushes through the front door.

                                   KATE
                         This isn't looking good.   We need
                         to get him back to the mainland.

                                   DAMIAN
                         What's wrong with him?

                                   KATE
                         I don't know.  But he needs a
                         doctor.  Badly!

The First on Reading

Ladies, Gentlemen and Ogres in Disguise:

This post on reading feels like the first of many. As a human that longs to express myself in the deepest way possible via writing (and other forms…acting, filmmaking, music, etc.), I cannot imagine a life without reading. Sure, a quick tour of People magazine might offer some insight. The type of reading I suggest is one that challenges. One that might lose you for a page or two. One whose characters are so unlike you that you either wrinkle your nose in disgust or dive so deep into the book, it appears that you and the printed pages are conjoined twins. Doesn’t matter the genre. Could be a non-fiction book about a sweaty old genius who loves his ginger snap cookies but beats his kids. Could be a novel about a ginger snap cookie that teases kids with its sweetness, taking them away from their sad lonely widower father.

In the anthology Writers on Writing, Saul Bellow wrote a short essay, “Hidden Within Technology’s Empire, a Republic of Letters”. Here, Bellow discusses how technology has, in so many ways, taken over our reading time. Sure, we spend our time responding to texts (which, of course, must be read). Words though are being shortened. There’s the LOL’s, OMG’s and FML’s. Are these acronyms here because we’ve forgotten how to spell the words properly? Or is it that we live such a rushed life, no time for writing, must get to the next text? LOL.

In writing about technology and these new digital acronyms, I say there’s nothing wrong with any of this. As this piece is written, my cell phone sits a foot and a half away. Should it light up, my eyes gravitate toward it, taking my attention away from this. Please, though, I urge you to take just a simple thirty minutes a day to read something meaningful, something that challenges you. It could be read on the can, the subway, in a doctor’s waiting room. Your life, I guarantee, will be enriched.

Amanda #1

Something tol’s me that he secretly wants me. Seen dem wandering eyes as he fixes de ‘ngines. So strong, I seen him bend things without a sweat drop going anywhere. Maybe one sizzled on a rock beneath him once. Been watching him for too long. He’s five years older den me. He may been in the same school as my older brother, Jim.

The first I seen him was playing basketball. He wore no shirt. Made me wanna jump over the bleachers, push him to the ground. Dat was so long ago. Now, he don’t play any ball games. Just fixes cars and maybe reading dem books.

Musta been when I was in tenth grade, few weeks before dropping out, Jim saw some scribbling on a napkin – Amanda ‘N Zack foreva! He laughed and laughed saying, “You think Zack wants you, Amanda? A simple little girl. Fahget it. Just fahget it. He goes for hot hot girls. Get out of those sweats and maybe he’ll take you.” Take me where? To his bed? To the zoo? To the movies? Jim just laughed. Made me feel shitty.

We was at the diner, Jim and me, when I saw Zack came in. Jim musta forgotten about the napkin scribbles. My eyes only saw Zack. He looked so skinny yet strong. Wore a muscle shirt. On his arm’s a tattoo of a baby dragon dancing on a building. The artist was so good you can see far away fire burning.

“You okay,” Jim snapped. His fingers snap when he gets mad. I nodded but looked back at Zack. Zack Blueman. Amanda Blueman. Sounds prettier than Amanda Jenkins. Shit, do I got the name of a banker or what? When I marry Zack Blueman, I gonna be his receptionist. Gonna answer the phone, “Blueman Motors. Dis is Amanda. How can I help you?”

Those days will come soon, I tell ya. He and me gonna get all naughty and stuff when we shut down for the night. Do it on a broken BMW. Screw till the sun comes out again.

Jim’s voice started rising in the diner. People stared. I don’t know what Jim be saying but boy did my cheeks get all red. Even Zack looked over. He was eating an apple pie with ice cream. I tol’ Jim to be quiet but he just kept saying over and over again, “What are you looking at, girl? Why’s you stupid all of a sudden?” I got’s angry back saying, “Can’t I look at what I want? All day and night I hear yur stupid voice. Shut up for once, Jim, and eat yur food.” Dat don’t settle Jim at all. He just get all worked up. Smacking the table. Throws ketchup at me. People surrounded the table thinking we gonna start a brawl. We both apologized and stuff but when alone he whispered some mean stuff. I so embarrassed I just left. Took a glance over at Zack who be slurping some chocolate milk. Damn, he look so good!

The heat burn my skin as I walk somewhere. Anywhere. Thought of a garden, a pretty one growing blueberries and ginger. Nah! Too far. Thought of an ice cream shop that plays nice music. I’s already eaten. Home sounded nice. Home where I can stick chairs under the doors so Jim don’t come in. I’ll sit upstairs laughing at Jim’s hollering and banging as I touch myself thinking of Zack.

Diminishment of Bread

What a literary juggler I’ve become. Every day, I must wrestle myself with what to write. The new script? Post a new entry? Another secret admirer letter? Oh shit, did I just admit to being the author of 7,213 secret admirer letters to 7,213 random people?

While lying in bed last night (no, I’m not going there, pervert), I decided to discuss the diminishment of bread in my diet, effective as of January 2nd. Sad but true. How I love my bread, my biscuits, my scones! Bread and everything related to it negatively effects my performance at CrossFit. Yesterday, while doing box jumps, I found myself jumping higher. Something about the combination of my blood and bread that increases the force of gravity. Since I know so well the taste of bread, biscuits and scones (yum yum yum and yum) and I don’t know what it’s like to jump really high, I’ve chosen the latter. Once I’ve jumped four feet high, I’ll test to see if the chemistry in my body has changed by increasing my bread intake.

I was wrong. This is the penultimate posting regarding the script entitled Descent. Here ya go–

EXT. LOG CABIN - DAY

A small rubber handball bounces against the porch. It lands
in Will's hand. He suddenly jumps off the porch and climbs
up a tree.

Footsteps land on the porch. Damian reaches for the doorknob.

Will pulls his arm back and shoots it directly into Damian's
back.

Damian spins around. Searches for the pitcher.

Roaring in hysterical laughter, Will falls out of the tree.

DAMIAN
Jesus, Will.

Damian rushes over to Will. The boys continues on with his
hysteria.

WILL
You should have seen your face.
You were so scared.

Damian thinks twice before handing Will the ball.

DAMIAN
Hate when you do that shit.

WILL
I don't do it that often.

DAMIAN
Once is enough.

WILL
Making nice-nice with Kate?

DAMIAN
Her aunt, Mrs. Argrove, isn't well.

Tears well up in Will's eyes.

WILL
How? What's wrong with her?

DAMIAN
Don't know. She's a manic.

Will stands up. Tosses the ball into the woods.

WILL
Damn! What about Kate? Will
she...

DAMIAN
She's focused exclusively on her
aunt.

Will starts to walk away.

DAMIAN (CONT'D)
Will, wait!

WILL
What?

DAMIAN
Where's Charlie?

A concerned expression washes over Will's face.

EXT. WOODS - DAY

Damian and Will walk side by side, tossing the rubber
handball between them.

WILL
You think Charlie stalked you?

DAMIAN
Well, Kate didn't send him. She
only saw him once in the office.

WILL
And you believe her?

DAMIAN
Why would Kate lie?

WILL
Cause she's a bitch.

DAMIAN
You two have got to find common
ground.

WILL
I don't got to do anything.

Damian sticks his arm out. Prevents Will from going any
further.

Several yards away, Charlie lies unconscious.

Damian rushes over to Charlie, feels the man's heartbeat
against his neck.

DAMIAN
Go get Kate.

WILL
Me?

DAMIAN
Fine. I'll get her. You carry
Charlie to the cabin.

WILL
Right...

Damian laughs as Charlie runs off.

CrossFit

There’s something about endorphins that induce a certain madness in me. It’s a safe madness. It forces me to rush to a computer or a pad of paper, write out something brutally honest. This was the case on New Year’s Eve. Many things can get my endorphins going. Refraining from masturbation for days at a time, taking a hike in the woods or an intense workout at CrossFit.

It was late April when I started working out at CrossFit. Six weeks earlier, I started a cleanse. My goal before the cleanse was to become a raw vegan. Mid-cleanse, something new came in. I sensed a super intense workout was needed, one that wouldn’t get boring after a few months. After much research, I happily stumbled upon CrossFit (it’s recommended that one consumes a paleolithic diet for the best results). Here we are early January 2013 and I’m still participating in this great workout program. It paid off as I’m now one of two members of the month. Check out the write-up.

It saddens me to announce that this is the penultimate post whereupon the script will be posted. The blog, of course, will continue. Kudos to those who have commented on the script. Please remember that the script is both incomplete and unedited. There’s a chance that someday the piece will reach completion. Another more pressing story has taken over. As of Sunday, I’ll begin drafting this up. I doubt this new script will make it to the blog. The process of writing it will be mentioned extensively.

INT. BELLA'S PLACE. BEDROOM - LATE MORNING

Lying in bed, with skin as blue as the sky, Bella gasps for
air.

Kate hands Bella a steaming cup of tea.

KATE
Take this.

BELLA
(mouths)
Thank you.

Bella takes a sip of the tea. Coughs up pink phlegm.

Damian hands Kate a box of tissues.

Kate wipes the pink phlegm off her chin.

DAMIAN
Kate, can we talk?

KITCHEN

Kate pours boiling water into a cup.

KATE
Want a cup?

DAMIAN
Sure. Kate, is your aunt
delusional?

Kate's face turns beat red.

KATE
Excuse me?

DAMIAN
Relax. I'm asking out of concern.

KATE
It's been ages since I've seen her.
You know that.

DAMIAN
She claims Charlie's a woman. A
demon woman, to boot.

Kate hands Charlie a cup of tea.

KATE
Charlie? Careful it's hot.

DAMIAN
The man, or woman according to your
aunt, you sent here.

KATE
I wouldn't send my worst enemy
here. Putting anyone, anything
near that rodent child, would be
tragic.

DAMIAN
Kate...

KATE
I'm sorry. That's an insult to
rodents.

A loud shriek emits from the bedroom.

BEDROOM

Kate and Damian rush in.

Bella's seated on a rocking chair sewing.

KATE
Aunt Bella what are you doing out
of bed?

BELLA
Sewing.

KATE
You're ill. Get to bed!

Kate grabs Bella's hand but the old woman pushes her niece
out of the way.

BELLA
Don't tell me what to do. I'm
sewing now. I'll go to bed when
I'm tired.

DAMIAN
Why'd you shriek?

BELLA
What did you say?

DAMIAN
You shrieked? What happened?

Bella holds the sewing needles like a dagger.

BELLA
I don't know who you think you are
but I'll tell you. You are a sick
man doing sick things for evil
people. I'd watch my tongue if I
were you.

Kate reaches for the sewing needle.

KATE
Aunt Bella...

BELLA
Don't "Aunt Bella" me, young lady.
(beat)
Both of you, leave me. I've got a
blanket to sew.

Bella's focus shifts directly onto the unfinished blanket barely
covering her kneecaps.

Happy F’ing New Year

Just me and an eight ounce glass of seltzer. Sweat seeps out my pores. There’s the big looming question–Pretend to have fun tonight with a bunch of “friends” or go off somewhere far away, get wasted in a diner, fuck a disease-infested whore somewhere and then come back months later, bearded, speak only in Farsi and just sit there selling guns, crack anything to keep me afloat, put some money away as three months later my AIDS-infested baby will pop out of the bitch’s womb. Hard choice if you ask me.

2013! Woo-hoo! I can hardly wait. Here’s how I see it. I’m gonna shit honesty. Yeah, this might turn some of you off but really…do I fucking care? I wasn’t put here to have everyone on this planet like me. As a matter of fact, I could do a little toilet flushing. Get in. My fingers are riding the handle. Go back to your homes, your countries, as your energy does not truly resonate with me.

Feels like eons that I’ve been taking care of one too many people. How it felt as if I was walking on egg shells, fearful that any crack, I’d fall through a haunted abyss. Mid-flight, an ogre would gobble pieces of me up. As I’d take my last breath, that ogre would be the individual I was tending to. How fucking convenient!

2013, what is it? It’s the year of me deciding whether or not I got time for you or not. Be prepared to wait a long fucking time because ladies, gentlemen and ogres in disguise, I’m taking care of myself first. My health, my writings, my passions, my everything. Call me a narcissist, my middle finger will be waiting for you.

So, happy fucking new year!

Lethargy

Yesterday’s snow induced somewhat of an intense lethargy. Yes I went to crossfit at 5:30, however, all the other parts of the day was filled with total laziness. Today, the leftovers–a tiny headache. Since this is so, I’ll say nothing more and instead post the next installment of the script.

INT. LOG CABIN - MORNING

Seated on the bed, Damian watches Charlie freshen up.

Charlie makes eye contact with Damian.

CHARLIE
What?

DAMIAN
I don't know. You tell me.

CHARLIE
You're staring. You need
something. More wine? Oh sorry.
We ran out of it. Maybe some feta
cheese. Woah, oh God, forgive me.
That's all been eaten. What could
you possibly want?

DAMIAN
How are you feeling?

CHARLIE
(sarcastic)
You really want to know how I'm
feeling? Aww. You care. Well, I
feel pretty fucking humiliated and
stupid.

DAMIAN
I'm sorry.

CHARLIE
Yeah, okay.

Charlie opens the cooler. Pulls out a dozen eggs.

CHARLIE (CONT'D)
We need to do something with these
eggs.

DAMIAN
We can have an egg fight.

CHARLIE
I was thinking more like deviled
eggs. Got any paprika?

Damian jumps off the bed. Lands atop Charlie. Punches him
the face.

Will dashes in. Face flushed.

WILL
You have to stop.

DAMIAN
Why? The fun's just beginning.

WILL
I'm serious. They're coming.

EXT. ISLAND WATERFRONT - MORNING

Less than five nautical miles from shore, the speed boat
approaches.

Damian and Will duck behind a shrub.

DAMIAN
The boat's not headed in our
direction.

WILL
Sure it is.

DAMIAN
Look.

The speed boat veers to the right.

WILL
Where...

DAMIAN
I have an idea...but you've gotta
hide.

EXT. BAY- MORNING

Damian slows his rowing down till he sees the speed boat
anchored to the docks.

EXT. DOCKS/SPEED BOAT - LATE MORNING

Damian ties his row boat to the speed boat. Climbs on board.
Opens cabinets and drawers. Finds nothing.

Someone clears her throat.

Damian looks up. Finds Kate, her eyes welling up in tears.

KATE
It's Aunt Bella.

DAMIAN
What about her?

KATE
She's not well.

Damian jumps atop the docks. Holds Kate's shaking arms.

DAMIAN
How can she not be well? She seems
fine. I was just with her this
morning.

The Quiet After Christmas

The day after Christmas can be eerily quiet. Since I was raised Jewish, the question of what happens in a Christmas-celebrating household arises. In the homes where alcohol’s permitted, I assume there’s much drinking…perhaps under the Christmas tree. There’s the game, How Far Under The Christmas Tree Can You Get. Kids are excluded from this game as they aren’t allowed to consume alcohol (maybe in some households kids do drink…yikes!). Once under the tree, someone measures the distance. There’s an art to getting out from underneath the Christmas tree. Can it be done without ruining the tree? Do any baubles fall off? In a drunken stupor, has tinsel accidentally been torn off?

In the sober homes, I see adults and children praying obsessively. Maybe the men remember their drunken days…the days when they considered themselves “heathens”. They go out in the freezing cold, stand behind an evergreen, a much larger version of their Christmas tree (undecorated, of course), shivering as they light up a cigar. Every now and then, they check to see if their mothers are peering through the windows, “Oh, where did Johnny go? It’s his turn to lead the prayer!”

On December 26th, these two groups, the alcoholics and sober Christmas celebrators, meet up for a tug-of-war. They literally take a thick rope, one that mid-game could rip skin off if careless, and tug. They do it over a raging fire. “Doesn’t matter who wins,” yells Jesus. “I love you all.” The tuggers can’t hear. They’re too busy trying to win. Eventually one group, the alcoholics, of course (not because they’re alcoholics, ethically speaking, but because the blood-alcohol content is so high. They think only of sleeping or grabbing another bottle of rum), fall near the raging fire. No flesh burned! The sober Christmas celebrators jump up, scream so loud that even Jesus has to place His hands over His ears.

Their breath recovered, the two groups visit a warm eggnog push-cart, run by some Egyptian fellow. They care little for his name. “What a nice man,” they all agree. “So what if he’s Muslim. He’s handsome. He’s always laughing. It’s clear he cares about everyone.” Empty cups, the two groups hug, part ways, head into their proper households. And so maybe, just maybe, this is why it’s always so quiet the day after Christmas.

Action

Several years ago, I wrote the beginning of a screenplay. Maybe the total page count went to eight. All the scenes were pure description and action. The action, though, was of a woman bathing. She then washed her hands. It then cut to a man walking on sand. Very dull action. Not sure what I was thinking back then.

The excerpt I’m posting today has one short action scene, almost reminiscent of a Charlie Chaplin film. Prior to this scene there’s a moment that segues into a flashback. This moment can easily be interpreted as sexual. I can tell you it isn’t. And no, Will is not pregnant…just in pain.

INT. LOG CABIN - MORNING

Damian closes the battery cover on the cassette player.
Glances over at Charlie whose curled up on the floor, snoring
a way. A grin takes over Damian's face. He pushes play.
Mozart's Requiem in D Minor broadcasts.

EXT. ISLAND WATERFRONT - MORNING

A fishing pole stands up right, lodged in the sand. Will
yawns and lies down. Stretches. Rubs his belly.

MATCH CUT TO:

BEGIN FLASHBACK

EXT. SCHOOLYARD - DAY

JESSICA, a bright-eyed curly-haired girl bundled in winter
gear, rubs Will's belly.

WILL
Does it feel weird?

JESSICA
Feels normal to me.

Jessica withdraws her hand.

WILL
It hurts.

JESSICA
Go see nurse Kate.

WILL
Why do you call your mother, "Nurse
Kate"? That's creepy.

END FLASHBACK

EXT. ISLAND WATERFRONT - MORNING

Mozart's Requiem in D Minor intensifies.

A sharp bend in the fishing pole. Will crawls over to it.
Lifts it out of the sand. Tugs the pole side to side. The
bend in the pole intensifies.

Will digs his feet deep in the sand. Struggles with the
strength of whatever might be caught on the hook. Sweat
drips down his arms. Looses grip on the pole. It flies
into the water. He goes after the pole but it moves too
fast.

Will kicks the water, screams and shouts. He stops short.
Squints.

In the distance, a speed boat approaches at a rather rapid
pace.

Will runs out of the water, hides behind a shrub.

The speed boat continues straight on course.

Will runs into the woods.

Vulnerability

Things haven’t exactly been easy lately. Yesterday was the end of the world, apparently. What the shit was that? Talk about tone setting, my God! Imagine this, you wake up, stretch, do your morning prayer, head down to the kitchen, pour yourself some orange juice, pop on NPR only to hear, “…the world will end on December 21st, 2012.” Excuse me? End? Really?

I don’t care what belief system one has, this end of the world crap had to have affected everyone in some form another. Looking back, I was a lunatic. Read the posts from the last few days. Bitching and moaning. Deleting them crossed my mind. My greater self vetoed that idea. The whole purpose behind this blog is to show my vulnerability. It’s real. It’s who I am. I think of these posts as excerpts from some classical sonata, where all the emotions are represented in some form.

Speaking of classical music, here is the next segment of the screenplay–

EXT. RURAL ROAD - DAWN

In exercise clothes, Damian leaps over the cracked pavement.
Continues his morning run. He stops suddenly.

In the distance, a hunched over silhouetted figure canes its
way through the broken road. It's Bella.

DAMIAN
Hey.

Bella squints, clearly confused by the distant voice.

BELLA
Hello?

Damian makes his way over to Bella.

DAMIAN
Mrs. Argrove, what brings you here?

BELLA
Bird watching. There was this
most unusual bird.
Looked like a flamingo but it was
turquoise. So darn pretty. Well,
a dog bark must have scared it.
Flew over here. I had to follow
it.

DAMIAN
Just you?

BELLA
Just me? Of course! Who else?
Thomas has been dead for twelve
years.

Bella retrieves a handkerchief from her pocket. Blows her
nose.

DAMIAN
Sorry, I didn't mean...

BELLA
Got this damned cold. I've been
meaning to tell you. Be wary.

DAMIAN
No need to worry. My immune system
is as strong as an ox.

BELLA
Phaw! Not talking about your
immune system. Talking about some
lady. She came into the store. I
sold her a red dress.

DAMIAN
Mrs. Argrove, that's not a...

BELLA
Red because of the devil. That's
right. She's got the devil in her.
Been praying ever since I saw
what's in that behemoth's eyes.

Clearly amused, Damian places his hand on Bella's hands.

DAMIAN
Mrs. Argrove...

Bella yanks her hand out from underneath Damian's. She
trembles. Her dentures nearly falling out of her mouth.

BELLA
She's found you! I can feel her in
your essence.

DAMIAN
You insist she's a woman.

BELLA
Because she is. A demon woman.
Come with me.

INT. STORE - MORNING

Damian shifts about uncomfortably as Bella pulls out boxes of
cassettes.

BELLA
Where is this? I just saw this a
few days ago.

DAMIAN
What are you looking for?

BELLA
It's this cassette. You like
classical?

DAMIAN
Yeah, I guess.

Bella beams a grin. Puts on the radio. Mozart fills the
room.

BELLA
Oh, Bastien and Bastienne. One of
my favorites.

DAMIAN
Never heard it.

BELLA
Well, you're hearing it now. Ever
dance to opera?

DAMIAN
I rarely dance.

Bella holds out her hands. Damian grabs them. The two swing
side to side.

DAMIAN (CONT'D)
Mrs. Argrove, this is really
nice...

BELLA
Isn't it? Listen to that voice!
How beautiful!

DAMIAN
It's quite beautiful. Listen,
Will's alone with that woman you
speak of.

Bella gasps. Breaks away from Damian.

BELLA
Is he? Well, we need to get you
home. First...

Bella turns back toward the boxes of cassettes. Grunts as
she pulls out a pile of them. Shuffles through them.

BELLA (CONT'D)
Ah, here it is. Take this.

Bella hands Damian the cassette.

DAMIAN
What's this for?