Act I
Pistol shots ring out in the hot New Jersey night. Enter Nathan and Frankie, dressed in clown suits, except instead of clown suits they're wearing scuba suits and instead of flippers they're wearing 1992 vintage Air Jordan sneakers.
Frankie: Christ, that was close one.
Nathan: Maybe too close, palie.
Frankie: Nobody saw anything, and we've got the loot.
Nathan: But at what cost, Frankie? It seems I have been shot.
Frankie: Shot? Where?
Nathan: Shot through the heart, and you're to blame.
Frankie: Goddamn it! I told you to wear your vest! You stupid fuckhead!
Nathan: This stupid fuckhead is dying, Frankie. I feel...so...cold.
Frankie: You're not going anywhere, bitch.
Nathan: The fuck I'm not.
Nathan dies. Police sirens approach. Frankie, weeping openly, steals Nathan's snorkel and runs away.
Act II
A West side loft, somewhere on the Upper East side. Lots of red bricks and vanilla scented candles. A beautiful girl with purple hair sits drinking tea and reading The Gulag Archipelago by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn. Someone pounds on the door. She gets up quickly and answers the door wearing only her sheer pink nightgown and a festive sombrero.
Enter Frankie
Frankie: Steela, you won't fucking believe what went down tonight.
Steela: Frankie! Language.
Frankie: You see, we went in to catch that shark like you wanted...
Steela: Tiger shark.
Frankie: Whatever, baby, sure, a tiger shark.
Steela: You're dripping on my nice carpet.
Frankie: Would you listen to me, woman?!
Steela: Not if you're going to use that tone with me. Frankie, I think you'd better leave.
Frankie: I can't, baby! The coppers are after me!
Steela: The police? Whyever--
Frankie: That's what I'm trying to tell you, damn it! They shot Nathan.
Steela: Who did?
Frankie: The aquarium cops.
Steela: Oh dear.
Fist pounds on door. Frankie and Steela gasp, but before they can hide cops bust in with shotguns raised. Frankie raises his arms in the air.
Frankie: Well, fuck.
Act III
Police interrogation room. Frankie sits at on one side of a small table under a hot white light. A big fat cop sits on the other side of the table.
Cop: I assume you know why you're here.
Frankie: Actually, I have no idea. Is this about the snuff film I shot with your wife?
Cop: A funny guy, eh? We love funny guys around here.
Frankie: Yeah?
Cop: Yeah. They get the longest ass pounding.
Frankie stands up and smacks the cop with his folding chair. The cop falls over, knocked out cold. Frankie goes to the door and opens it, looking back at the fallen cop.
Frankie: No one's pounding this ass, copper.
Frankie smacks his ass, hoots, and sprints off down the hallway.
Act IV
A pub on the upper north side. Frankie is sitting alone at the bar for a minute until he's joined by a leggy blond smoking from a hooka.
Blond: Rough day?
Frankie: Rough as a cat's tongue.
Blond: That bad, huh. Well, maybe a few drinks will smooth things out a little.
Frankie: That's the general plan. Well, Plan B, I guess. Plan A was stealing a tiger shark for the love of a beautiful woman. That plan got my best friend shot.
Blond: Say, that is rough. Why don't you--
Steela: There you are, you jerk. Cops are asking about you, and now you're cheating on me with this skank?
Blond: I'm no skank.
Frankie: Ladies, ladies, I think you're both skanks.
Steela pulls a switchblade out and stabs Frankie in the shoulder.
Frankie: Damn it, woman!
Blond and Steela high five, a bunch of cops enter the bar with shot guns ready.
Act V
Cop: Give it up, Frankie. You ran good, but you can't run no more.
Frankie: We'll see about that, captain dickhead!
Frankie jumps behind the bar. The cops open fire, gunning down both Steela and Blond with this heavy crossover. Frankie, laughing hysterically, starts chucking liquor bottles over the bar with great ferocity. One of the cops tosses a grenade over the bar, it explodes, and pieces of Frankie fly everywhere. Suddenly the ghost of Nathan appears, hovering over the bar. He's joined by Steela, Blond, and finally Frankie himself.
Nathan: So, we come to the end of our story. Deadmen all, we pray you pray for our mortal souls. Meanwhile, we're thinking ghost orgy.
Frankie: Yes! Ghost orgy!
Everyone starts dancing to "Little Ghost" by the White Stripes. Curtain slowly draws shut.
El FIN
5 comments:
Poor "Blond". She's like "the dog" in Girls by Frederick Busch.
You're a freakin' genius, Bloggy.
With mad optician skillzzz.
Ghost orgy is a combination of words I never thought I would ever see. Ever.
"Shot through the heart, and you're to blame."
Pshaaaaw!
Such a lovely piece. I thoroughly enjoyed it all! I was touched when he grabbed teh scuba mask off hihs dead friend.
How was filming this weekend?
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