INTERIOR OF WOODEN SHED, THURSDAY - MIDNIGHT
In a wooden hut about 30 feet x 15 feet with a tin roof, unlined walls and bare floor boards are two men. An antique table and chair seems incongruous in this setting. A poster of Marilyn Monroe and a straw hat on the back of the open door completes the furnishings. A man in his twenties, short cropped hair and cutoff jeans buries his head in his arms at the table. The second man nervously paces up and down. They are waiting for something in silence. Except for the sound of rain on the tin roof and the metal studded soles on a wooden floor, there is no other sound.
CHIFFLEY
Christ sake. Be still.
GREG
Up yer bum!
CHIFFLEY
Charming! I can’t think…
GREG
Nothing’s changed, then?!
CHIFFLEY
Wasser-matta with yer? You’ll take the polish outta the bloody floor you will... can’t yer be still?
GREG
What polish…?
GREG stops pacing and turns slowly to face CHIFFLEY. He grins a yellow stain.
CUT TO CLOSE UP:
Several teeth are missing and we can see his greasy hair and four o’clock shadow and the blackheads on his nose. He gives the middle finger sign to CHIFFLEY
CUT CLOSER STILL:
We see broken finger nails and a shirt sleeve stained with black tobacco juice.
CUT TO:
INT.STYLISH BEDROOM, THURSDAY - DAY
In an air conditioned stylish bedroom, in a four poster bed, a man and a woman are practicing some horizontal dancing. We can’t see much of the woman - because of the turned back sheets and mussed-up pillows – but we can see expensive underwear littered about the bed and floor. She still wears her stockings and suspenders and these are variously wrapped about her lover or pointing up to the ceiling. In her legs, very evident through the lace curtains surrounding the bed, is the well-shaped bare bum of a young man in his mid twenties - bouncing up and down, missionary style, for all he is worth. Nothing is heard except the usual ‘rutting’ noises and protestations of the springs.
SAMUEL
Ohhhhh! Ooooh!…
BRENDA
Oooooh!
SAMUEL
OOOOOOOhhhhhh!
BRENDA
Oh!
SAMUEL
Ohhhhh! Ooooh!…
BRENDA
Schhhh!
SAMUEL
OOOOOOOhhhhhh!
BRENDA
Oh! (Giggle)
BRENDA and SAMUEL
(In unison)
Oooooooh! Ohhoooooh!
The activity subsides and there is stillness - except that BRENDA’s feet, still pointing to the ceiling, make a pronounced curl-up of the toes.
BRENDA
(Giggles)
CUT TO:
INTERIOR OF WOODEN SHED, THURSDAY - MIDNIGHT
CHIFFLEY and GREG are now both standing in the doorway of the shed, looking out into the night. It is still raining and the water cascades off the roof in front of them. CHIFFLEY is smoking. GREG throws an old bottle out side and we hear the squeal of a cat.
GREG
Bloody rain…
CHIFFLEY
Bloody hot.
There is no answer from GREG. A long pause. CHIFFLEY looks at him and then back out at the rain. He flicks his butt into the rain. A sizzle sound, larger than life, and another squeal of a cat.
CHIFFLEY
Great company you are. What you moonin’ over anyway?
The silence continues. Another long pause.
CHIFFLEY
She’ll be fine. She’s in good hands. Cn’oath!
GREG
S’wot worries me.
CHIFFLEY
Sam’ud never hurt a fly.
GREG
It’s his flys I’m worried about.
CHIFFLEY
Gaarn!
CUT TO:
INT.STYLISH BEDROOM, THURSDAY - DAY
The giggles continue as BRENDA slowly untwines her legs from SAMUEL’s waist, and lets them drop slowly to the sheets.
BRENDA
What you gonna tell GREG?
Sam says nothing. He’s incapable of saying anything. He’s spent.
BRENDA
Well? Are you?
Sam mumbles something unintelligble and collapses in a heap using BRENDA’S body as a pillow.
INTERIOR OF WOODEN SHED, THURSDAY - MIDNIGHT
The shed is dark, the two men are not visible but we know they are there from the sound of their snoring.
INT.STYLISH BEDROOM, THURSDAY - DAY
SAMUEL is still slumped on top of her, his bum a wilted sandbank having lost all it’s perkiness.
BRENDA
Well? Are you?
SAMUEL
(Grunt)
BRENDA
Seriously… what you gonna tell him?
SAMUEL
I dunno … he’s not my husband! What do you suggest I tell him?
BRENDA
You’re not seriously gonna tell him are you. He’ll kill me!
SAMUEL
I’m more worried that he’ll kill me!
