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| I wrote a screenplay! |
NOTICE: There's some strong language towards the end.
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INT. Deck of confabulated magical ship-like thing - Day
Behind the helm on the mostly wooden deck, stands a very large mature woman with hair flying. Her clothes fly too, being a confabulation of whatever was to hand. The weather is windy and rainy. The woman, MATHILDA, peers through the storm intent on her destination. On the deck in front of her, oblivious to the weather, is SATCHA, a mature, reasonable woman. She stands with her eyes closed, arms outstretched parallel in front of her, palms perpendicular to her arms.
The ship is an amalgam of fantasy and fairtale construction with wide sails and strange wings; a mixture of wood, metal, plastic and whatever other parts could be salvaged from wrecks. A skeleton is attached to the bow. Skulls line some of the railings. Various shades of pink and purple, faded and new, are prominent. There are a lot of long, narrow flags. Inexplicably, steam and smoke periodically arise.
MATHILDA
Can't you do that in your room?
SATCHA
(without opening her eyes or moving)
No!
The wind howls. Another woman emerges from below deck. This is SILVIA, a lovely blond mature woman, her long hair showing three inches of gray roots. She is pleasingly plump.
SILVIA
Are we there yet?
MATHILDA
Nearly.
SILVIA
Good. I'm fresh out of larkspur. (pause) I see she's at it again.
MATHILDA
Yes.
SILVIA
If it works, I'm next.
Silvia disappears below decks. Satcha lowers her arms and opens her eyes.
MATHILDA
Was he there?
SATCHA
(nods a bit sadly)
I miss him.
MATHILDA
You've never met him.
SATCHA
But I will.
MATHILDA
Secure that rope, will you? And bring me a glass of wine.
Satcha secures a rope and then disappears below deck. The wind quiets and the rain stops. Mathilda secures the wheel and adjusts her appearance. She pulls a cloth from the interior of her clothing and wipes her face.
MATHILDA
There. That's better. Satcha!
Satcha is behind her.
SATCHA
Here's your wine. You didn't say, so I brought you white. It was open.
Mathilda takes the wine and gulps it down. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.
MATHILDA
Excellent. So, how is he today?
SATCHA
Tolerably well. (sighs) It's taking such a long time.
MATHILDA
Try not to wait so hard. A lady keeps her man waiting.
SATCHA
(dryly)
Oh ha ha. What if it's a woman?
MATHILDA
Then you'd better get out of my way!
There is a pause while Mathilda finishes the dregs of her wine and peers into the distance.
MATHILDA
You see that glittering thing over there?
SATCHA
(peers into the distance)
Yep. Barely. It's just a nuanced anomaly.
MATHILDA
I don't think so. This looks like something. A vehicle. Headed toward us.
Satcha peers again. She climbs up on the shrouds and leans out over the edge of the ship.
SATCHA
You may be right.
MATHILDA
Thank you.
SATCHA
Looks like another ship ... or maybe a plane.
MATHILDA
A plane. That's all we need.
WILLA, a plain-face, matter-of-fact mature woman appears on deck. She dresses traditionally in keeping with present cultural norms.
WILLA
Do we have time for a stop over? I've got a call from my daughter. The grandchildren need me.
MATHILDA
Time is what we're made of. What's the location?
WILLA
(peers at a small, rectangular electronic in the palm of her hand)
Uh, ... let me see ... I think ... oh, here it is. Richmond, 2011.
MATHILDA
(grabbing the helm and bringing the ship about)
That's it? You know I hate fuzzy logic.
WILLA
No. There's more. Give me a minute. Uh, June ... 13th ... about 6 p.m.
MATHILDA
Got it.
Willa taps her device and then puts it to her ear.
WILLA
Honey? Okay. I'll be there. Should I bring something? You want me to stop by the grocery store? (she listens) Alright. Love you!
MATHILDA
We've got a situation. Might not be able to pick you up right at the precise moment.
WILLA
That's fine. I can stay the night if I need to.
WILLA
I'll call you.
MATHILDA
Got it!
Willa descends into the cloud. Mathilda swings the helm. The clouds and steam clear and we are back to the previous view of the ship. Satcha is still in the shrouds.
SATCHA
I think it's a pirate ship. ... Plane. Whatever. It's turning back.
MATHILDA
Silvia!
Muffled from below comes a reply.
MATHILDA
Is your Ex after you again?
A couple of bumps are heard. Silvia appears on deck.
SILVIA
No. Why do you ask?
Mathilda indicates with a rough gesture. Silvia peers out toward the object.
SILVIA
That's not him.
MATHILDA
Great. Who is it then?
SILVIA
I don't know. Why don't you ask him?
MATHILDA
Him?
SILVIA
Well, yeah. It's some guy with a bunch of his buddies. Looks like racers or sky divers.
SATCHA
Bungee jumpers.
SILVIA
Yeah. That's it. Bungee jumpers.
SATCHA
Was that ...?
SILVIA
No. Never. Nuh ah. ... Anyway, I've got water boiling. Tea anyone?
SATCHA
(raises her hand)
MATHILDA
None for me, thanks.
Silvia goes below deck.
MATHILDA
What you got on for today?
SATCHA
Thought I'd make a few visits.
MATHILDA
Were you going to file a flight plan or did you want me to use my ESP?
SATCHA
Both. (pulls out a crumpled map) Here. And, uh, here.
MATHILDA
What's this in aid of?
SATCHA
My sanity? The order of the universe? Dying children in Cambodia?
MATHILDA
You think you're going to find him in one of those spots?
SATCHA
Uh, yeah. Why not?
MATHILDA
So, okay. Let's imagine that were possible ...
SATCHA
It isn't?
MATHILDA
Tell me about him.
SATCHA
He's a pilot, flies for a commercial airline, used to make long flights - now just does short hops. You know, there and back again. Gets to the airport, doesn't even leave the plane, and then back again.
MATHILDA
But you don't know which airport?
SATCHA
Right.
Mathilda peers at the map.
MATHILDA
Or the time.
SATCHA
Just a minor insignificant detail.
MATHILDA
I can't run around all day with you. I've got a schedule, you know.
SATCHA
Won't take ALL day.
MATHILDA
(sound of disgust)
Might as well.
SATCHA
Thanks.
INT. Passenger Airplane Cockpit - Afternoon
WRIGHT, a well matured male pilot, sits in the cockpit with a clipboard and a laptop checking over the equipment. The clipboard is his backup, having once lost his laptop to the cleaning crew. FUNK, the male co-pilot, enters and sits in the co-pilot seat.
FUNK
Gees. How do you do this everyday?
WRIGHT
(not looking up)
Practice.
FUNK
What's the weather look like.
WRIGHT
Good. Check the maps will you?
Funk turns to the displays and taps screens and shit. Might need someone in here who actually knows something about flight displays. On the other hand, you could just have the ubiquitous big red button.
FUNK
Looks accurate.
WRIGHT
Hmmmfff. Take a look. What's this look like to you?
Wright shows his laptop display to Funk. Do not zoom in on this. No one needs that level of detail.
FUNK
Like a storm.
WRIGHT
And doesn't the flight path take us squarely into it?
FUNK
Uh,.. yeah.
WRIGHT
What have you been smokin'?
FUNK
Nothing. Lately.
WRIGHT
Dammit! Do I gotta report you?
FUNK
Fuck, Wright. You know I fly better when I'm relaxed.
WRIGHT
Relaxed is one thing - damn out of it is another. Get the fuck off my plane!
Funk stands, picking up his cap from the dash.
FUNK
Happy Trails, mother fucker.
WRIGHT
Thanks.
Funk exits leaving the cockpit door open.
WRIGHT
(shouts after Funk)
And tell the duty manager to send in another navigator!
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