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Author: Miller W.
Tags: cinema relationships drama script family narrative storytelling character development emotional themes dialogue screenplay
Year: 2022
Text
POPS
An original screenplay by Wentworth Miller
All rights reserved.
No part of this material may be used or reproduced.
Pub. July 23, 2022. USA.
Content Warning: Abuse/violence of every description.
July 23, 2022
The following screenplay is over a decade old. Touches on a difficult
subject (or subjects).
Would I write it today? I don't know. I don't think I'd approach from
the same angle(s) anyway.
Still, it exists. Sitting in my outbox. Something I'd been meaning to
share. A reflection of my evolution as a storyteller, of what I found
worth investigating/articulating at one time.
Reactions have varied over the years... A few readers felt triggered.
Not the word they used but what they described.
Something to keep in mind before turning the page. - W.M.
POPS
FIRST DRAFT
by Wentworth Miller
022212R
c/o Joanne Wiles
ICM
10250 Constellation Blvd.
9th Floor
Los Angeles, CA 90067
tel: 310-550-4091
We sit patiently in the dark, staring at a blackened screen,
listening to the SOUNDS of an old-school film projector being
prepped for our viewing pleasure...
The reels are mounted, the film wound through the slots, a
switch is thrown, and the screen FLICKERS to life, OUT OF
FOCUS at first, then coaxed into relative clarity...
It’s a home movie... Soundless and grainy... A faded picture
postcard from a distant place and time...
CLOSE ON a BOY (10), blonde and smiling, face filling the
screen... He mugs for the camera, giggling and gap-toothed...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
When my father was ten, he had two
parents, four grandparents, a
beagle, a turtle, and a parakeet
named ‘Fred.’
Whoever’s working the camera PULLS BACK to reveal a small but
tidy backyard, and a raucous birthday party in full swing...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
And friends.
(beat)
Lots of friends.
Paper streamers ripple in the branches of an old oak tree as
a sea of party hats bob and weave below...
Two dozen late Eisenhower-era kids - the girls in primary
colors, the boys in white shirts and khakis - ring a rickety
card table, faces glowing with sweat and expectation...
The blonde boy - the birthday boy - stands at their center...
This is FATHER...
On the table in front of him sits a thick white sheet cake
with a number “10” candle flickering on top, struggling to
stay lit in the hot summer breeze...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Everything a boy could wish for.
As Father sucks in a huge breath and BLOWS out the candle...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Everything a boy could want.
We JUMP CUT to a 2nd home movie...
There’s Father again, now 17, dressed in a rented tux and
standing in the driveway of a small but tidy suburban ranch
house at dusk...
022212R 2.
A 1966 Rambler Classic 770 is parked next to him, robin’s egg
blue with a shiny white top...
Father mock poses on the hood for our amusement, but the
truth is he’s handsome enough to model for real...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
When my father was seventeen, he
had two parents, two grandparents,
a partial scholarship to the local
university, and a brand new car.
Father calls off to the side, beckoning... A beat... Then a
dark-haired GIRL (16) wearing a complicated pink prom dress
pinned with a corsage appears at the edge of frame...
She looks to camera then to Father, unsure...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
And girlfriends.
(beat)
Lots of girlfriends.
Finally she allows herself to be pulled in close, anchoring
in the crook of Father’s arm, waving shyly at the camera...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Everything a young man could wish
for.
As Father leans in and gives his date a big showy SMOOCH...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Everything a young man could want.
We JUMP CUT to a 3rd home movie...
We’re in a hospital room now... The same girl (still 16),
lies in bed, pale and drained, awkwardly holding a baby...
She’s saying something to whoever’s behind the camera, trying
to cover her face with her free hand... We can tell she knows
she looks terrible...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
When my father was eighteen, he had
two parents, one grandparent, a new
wife, a new baby, and a full-time
job at his second cousin’s AMC
dealership.
But the camera STAYS ON her, coming CLOSER, until whoever’s
behind it sticks their head around in front of the lens...
It’s Father, now sporting a small but tidy mustache...
022212R 3.
He walks backward to the bed and squats down, leaning his
face in next to the girl’s, close but not quite touching...
They both look into the lens, posing dutifully...
The girl looks scared...
Father looks... shell-shocked...
Say “cheese.”
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Lots of things a man might wish
for.
As they squeeze out matching smiles for posterity...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Lots of things a man might want.
We JUMP CUT to a 4th home movie...
It’s Christmas morning in a small but tidy living room, the
fake tree heaped with cheap bulbs and silver tinsel...
A dark-haired BOY (5) sits on the shag carpet beneath the
boughs, opening a present with his fingernails, careful not
to rip the wrapping paper...
We can’t help but notice he’s... on the hefty side...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
When my father was twenty-three, he
had two parents, no grandparents, a
wife, a son, a cat, and a full-time
job at his second cousin’s AMC Jeep
dealership.
Whoever’s operating the camera PANS OVER to a woman sitting
alone on the couch in her nubbly bathrobe, smoking a Virginia
Slims, watching her son open his present ever so slowly...
It’s the same girl... plus 70 pounds... Maybe more...
She takes a silent drag, shooting the camera a veiled,
sideways look... Her eyes slide back to her son...
Then she HEAVES herself forward and SNATCHES the present out
of the boy’s hands...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Some of the things a man might wish
for.
As she starts VIOLENTLY unwrapping it herself...
022212R 4.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Some of the things a man might
want.
We JUMP CUT to a 5th home movie...
CLOSE ON a small tin canister the color of split pea soup...
It says “TEA”... Then we PAN OVER to a larger, matching
canister next to it... “COFFEE”... Then OVER to an even
larger canister next to that... “SUGAR”... Then OVER to the
even larger canister next to that... “FLOUR”...
Gripping stuff...
We finally PAN OFF the counter and over to a man sitting
alone at the table in a small but tidy kitchen, his paper and
breakfast before him...
Short-sleeve shirt and hair parted stiffly, pharmacy-bought
reading glasses and a wristwatch to match...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
When my father was thirty-one, he
had one parent, no wife, a son, two
cats, and a full-time job managing
the local Friendly’s.
Father looks up into the lens, expression unreadable, just in
time to see us DROP the camera...
It HITS the floor and BOUNCES a few times...
We see SHAKY SHOTS of the linoleum, the wallpaper, and the
ceiling before we RETURN to Father, still sitting at the
table, staring at us in silence, exactly as he was before...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Some of the things some men might
wish for.
As Father continues to look steadily into camera, the image
starts to FLICKER then DIES...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Some of the things some men might
want.
CUT TO BLACK
We hear the LAP LAP LAP as the film runs out...
Reveal the old-school projector in question resting on a
stack of milk crates in a shadowy basement...
WIDEN TO reveal a dark-haired BOY (13) sitting next to it,
cradled in an old leather La-Z-Boy.
022212R 5.
He continues staring at the spot on the cinder block wall
where the movie just was, mouth hanging open a little.
We can’t help but notice how big he is...
Not big-boned. Big. Belly swollen beneath his dark shorts and
wide striped T-shirt.
This is SON...
We hear a door OPEN O.S. and a beam of LIGHT floods the
basement stairwell behind him.
FATHER (O.S.)
You down there, son?
SON
Yes.
FATHER (O.S.)
What was that?
Yes.
SON
(louder)
Beat.
FATHER (O.S.)
I was thinking we should go to the
park. It’s nice out.
Beat.
FATHER (O.S.)(CONT’D)
You hear me? I said we should go to
the park.
Okay.
SON
Beat.
FATHER (O.S.)
And why don’t you bring your glove.
CLOSE ON Son, something shifting behind his eyes.
FATHER (O.S.)(CONT’D)
We can throw the ball around.
But we’re not sure what.
FATHER (O.S.)(CONT’D)
You hear me?
022212R 6.
Yes.
SON
FATHER (O.S.)
And don’t forget the bag.
Okay.
SON
FATHER (O.S.)
What was that?
SON
(louder)
I said okay.
Beat.
FATHER (O.S.)
Five minutes.
We hear the door CLOSE, leaving the boy sitting alone in the
dark again... A beat... Then, with a quiet OOF, he pushes
himself up and out of the chair.
CUT TO:
EXT. FATHER’S HOUSE - DAY - FIVE MINUTES LATER
WIDE ON a small but tidy suburban ranch house...
It’s the one we saw in all those home movies... Apparently
Father and Son live in the same house Father grew up in...
As the front door opens the CREDITS ROLL, and then CONTINUE
ROLLING over the following MONTAGE...
Father walking out of the house, dressed for athletics in a
gray T-shirt and matching shorts, baseball glove on one hand,
baseball in the other...
Son appearing behind him, glove under one arm, both arms
wrapped around a bulging red canvas bag, like a pillowcase
with drawstrings...
Son struggling to close the front door with his hands full,
checking to make sure it’s locked...
Father waiting for him at the curb, watching, tossing the
ball in the air...
Son stepping off the porch, squinting in the bright sunlight,
already sweating...
Father setting off down the sidewalk, whistling to himself...
022212R 7.
Son lumbering along, trying to catch up, but not going to...
WIDE ON the two figures as they make their way along, one
trailing the other...
House after house, block after block...
CUT TO:
EXT. PARK - DAY - CONTINUOUS
Father and Son leave the concrete and step onto the grass...
Past the parents and kids on the playground...
Past the teenagers loitering on the benches...
Past the couples picnicking at the picnic tables...
Everyone dressed as they would be circa 1980...
They head straight for a large clearing, separated from the
rest of the park by dense clumps of bushes and shrubs...
It’s a quiet spot... Private... Where they can be alone...
It’s then that we hear the unmistakable, instantly
recognizable MELODY that can only mean one thing...
Ice cream truck.
As Son turns to look longingly over his shoulder, back toward
the street, up comes the title:
POPS
Jingle, jingle, jingle... Jingle, jingle, jingle...
CUT TO:
EXT. STREET ALONGSIDE THE PARK - DAY - CONTINUOUS
WIDE ON a spic-and-span ice cream truck, refrigerator white
and shiny with chrome, signage bright with pinks and blues
and oranges, rolling slowly up the street.
Jingle, jingle, jingle... Jingle, jingle, jingle...
On all four sides, written in a cherry red, old-timey script,
is “Mister Pops.”
Jingle, jingle, jingle... Jingle, jingle, jingle...
022212R 8.
We might also notice that the cars, bikes, baby strollers and
people nearby are all now modern day, from our own place and
time.
Jingle, jingle, jingle... Jingle, jingle, jingle...
The truck pulls over to the edge of the park, where it’s
immediately surrounded curb-side by a swarm of kids, all of
them shouting and shoving and waving fists full of cash.
Seconds later, a dark-haired MAN (early 40s) appears at the
truck’s service window...
Crisp white shirt and black clip-on bow tie. White paper hat
cocked to one side, soda jerk-style. Fingernails clean and
sideburns trimmed. Not a trace of stubble in sight...
Immaculate in every way.
When the man lays eyes on the kids, his expression is so warm
and welcoming, so sincere and shining with goodness, you
almost don’t notice he’s easily 300 pounds.
This is POPS...
POPS
Well hello there!
Over the calls and cries POPS (CONT’D)
My goodness... We’ve got quite a
crowd today!
(then, chuckling)
Alright, alright... Don’t push...
There’s plenty for everybody...
CLOSE ON a sequence of kids... Younger/older, taller/shorter,
and every shade of the rainbow...
Eyes bright and twinkling, faces pinched in anticipation,
they’re like super fans at a rock concert...
And guess who’s headlining?
POPS (CONT’D)
Okay quiet now quiet... Quiet...
Shshshshshshshsh... Quiet quiet
quiet...
(a finger to his lips)
Shhhhhhhhhhhh...
Miraculously, the kids fall silent under his command...
Reveal various parents standing behind them and off to the
sides, arms crossed or hands on hips, looking amused. We get
the sense they’ve witnessed this little scene before...
022212R 9.
Then gently, respectfully, without a trace of condescension POPS (CONT’D)
Okay... Now. In the tiniest, most
quietest voice you can - quiet like
a mouse! - tell me what you want.
KIDS
(”whispering”)
Ice cream...
Pops mock-frowns, like he’s not sure he heard right.
POPS
What do you want?
KIDS
(a little louder)
Ice cream...
Putting a hand to his ear, leaning farther out the window POPS
What was that?
KIDS
(louder)
Ice cream!
POPS
What’d you say?
KIDS
(a lot louder)
ICE CREAM!
POPS
(sing-song)
I can’t HEAR you...
KIDS
ICE CREAM!!!!
POPS
Did somebody say ice cream?
KIDS
ICE CREAM!!!!
POPS
DID SOMEBODY SAY ICE CREAM?
KIDS
ICE CREAMMMMMMMM!!!!
POPS
WELL THEN WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY SO!?!
022212R 10.
And then everyone loses their shit, WRITHING and WAILING like
Baptists at a revival meeting...
KIDS
ICE CREAM ICE CREAM ICE CREAM!!!!
ICE CREAM ICE CREAM ICE CREAM!!!!
SINGLE SHOTS of kids SHAKING and SHOUTING, mouths wide and
upturned like baby birds come feeding-time...
BEGIN MONTAGE as Pops starts collecting bills and change,
handing out treats in return, laughing, making small talk...
POPS
Raphael! What’ll it be, my young
friend? Chocolate swirl in a wafer
cone? I thought so...
It’s immediately clear this man knows his clientele. It’s
also clear he loves his job. And he’s good at it...
Really good...
POPS (CONT’D)
And for the lovely Tasha, one
orange Creamsicle... There you
go... That’ll be 2.50, please...
He’s a polished whirl... Graceful despite his girth... A
synchronized swimmer in a motorized pool...
POPS (CONT’D)
Something tells me you’d better
take an extra napkin, Eric... Or
two...
Dipping and coating, sprinkling and swirling... Never missing
a beat or dropping a cone... Never forgetting a name...
POPS (CONT’D)
A Snow Cone for Amy... An Oreo
Cookie Bar for Mr. Max... Oh you
are very, very welcome...
Then, as Pops hands out another goodie, the image FREEZES...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
There are days I wake up angry and
I don’t know why.
Then it UNFREEZES... But like a record that’s started to skip
forward, Pops is now helping a different kid...
POPS
How many quarters in a dollar,
Jayden? That’s right - four.
(MORE)
022212R 11.
POPS (CONT'D)
So you’d better go get another one
from your mom...
FREEZE.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
There are times I feel like hurting
someone. Maybe myself.
UNFREEZE. Different kid.
POPS
Good afternoon, Miss Bethany! With
ribbons in her hair...
Note: Right about now we’d be confident that Pops is the
Narrator. Except for one thing...
Their voices aren’t the same.
Similar. But not the same.
There’s a subtle quality to Pops’s speech, something that
speaks to... to slowness maybe. To thickness.
We might almost wonder if he’s a little bit... you know.
The Narrator’s voice is neither slow nor thick. It’s fluid
and clear. Matter-of-fact.
But otherwise they sound like they’re the same person (and
will be played by the same actor).
Curious.
POPS (CONT’D)
Let me guess - Bubble Gum Swirl?
Sweets for the sweet?
FREEZE.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
There are nights I cry myself to
sleep even though nothing’s wrong.
UNFREEZE.
POPS
Alright, Hunter, but you owe me a
dime next time... Oh I know you’ll
remember... I trust you...
FREEZE.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
My mom used to say, ‘I’m struggling
today.’
022212R 12.
UNFREEZE.
POPS
Chocolate Chip Sandwich?
FREEZE.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
I struggle most days.
UNFREEZE.
POPS
Hayley, sweetheart, you’ve got a
whole lot of people waiting for you
to make up your mind...
FREEZE.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
I think we all do.
UNFREEZE.
POPS
You kids are keeping me on my toes
today!
FREEZE and CLOSE ON Pops, beaming, filled with sunshine...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
But some of us more than others.
HOLD ON Pops’s frozen face... Then PAN SIDEWAYS quickly, past
the truck, the kids and the parents and out to the street, up
to the window of a passing silver Prius...
CLOSE ON a BOY (7), face frozen against the car window,
staring in the direction of the ice cream truck...
We UNFREEZE again, just in time to watch the car ZIP out of
frame, just in time to register the boy’s yearning look...
BOY (V.O.)
But whhhhyyyy?
CUT TO:
INT. PRIUS - DAY - CONTINUOUS
The boy - SAM - slumps back down in his booster seat, arms
crossed over his thin body, scowling.
VOICE (O.S.)
Because we’ll stop for ice cream
next time.
022212R 13.
Reveal Sam’s DAD (30s) in the driver’s seat up front. Dad’s
got a nice smile, a good head of hair, and no time for ice
cream.
SAM
When’s next time?
DAD
Next time we go to the park.
SAM
When are we going to the park?
DAD
Next time. This weekend.
SAM
But what if the ice cream man’s not
there?
DAD
Oh he’ll be there... He’s not gonna
miss a big weekend at the park. In
June.
(snorting)
Lot of money to be made in June.
Why?
SAM
DAD
Because it’s summertime! It’s hot.
Everybody wants ice cream when it’s
hot.
SAM
I want ice cream when it’s hot.
Walked right into that one.
SAM (CONT’D)
It’s hot, Dad.
DAD
Next time, Sam.
SAM
You promise?
DAD
Mm-hm... You have my word.
Dad turns on the radio, mind already elsewhere. We hear
“Please, Mr, Please” by Olivia Newton-John. Must be “70s on
7” on Sirius.
Then, from the backseat, voice high and wavering and sweet -
022212R 14.
SAM/RADIO
Please, Mr, please... Don't play B17... It was our song, it was his
song, but it's oh-oo-oh-oo-ver...
Dad BARKS out a laugh, turns around.
DAD
How do you know this?
SAM/RADIO
Please, Mr, please... If you know
what I mean... I don't ever wanna
hear that song again...
DAD
How do you know this song, Sam?
SAM
Mommy has the record.
Swaying a little, looking out the window SAM/RADIO
If I had a dime for every time I
held you... Though you're far away,
you've been so close to me...
CLOSE ON Dad, about to say something else.
SAM/RADIO (CONT’D)
I could swear I'd be the richest
girl in Nashville... Maybe even in
the state of Tennessee...
Dad pushes a button on the radio, switching stations. Now
it’s the news. “SiriusXM Left.”
SAM
Hey! Turn it back!
DAD
Your dad wants to listen to the
news now, okay?
(then)
Let’s just listen to the news.
EXT. PRIUS - DAY - CONTINUOUS
But as the car speeds away from us down the block, we hear
sotto, under the news SAM (V.O.)
Please, Mr, please... It was our
song, it was his song, but it's oh-
022212R 15.
Sam.
DAD (V.O.)
Oddly, as the car exits frame, the song starts up again...
But now it sounds tinny, like it’s coming to us across a
great distance...
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. FATHER’S HOUSE - BACKYARD - DAY - CONTINUOUS
CLOSE ON a small black Sanyo, Ms. Newton-John’s hit song
playing at a very low volume...
WIDEN to reveal the radio’s dangling from a nail in a tree by
its little black strap...
KEEP WIDENING to reveal Son lying on his back beneath the old
oak tree... It’s the same tree we saw decorated with paper
streamers at his father’s 10th birthday party...
CLOSE ON Son, face thoughtful and still, sunlight playing on
his cheeks as the branches above sway in the wind...
RADIO
Please, Mr, please... Don't play B17... It was our song, it was his
song, but it's oh-oo-oh-oo-ver...
Son joins in softly, haltingly, like he’s unsure of the
words... or himself... or both...
SON/RADIO
Please, Mr, please... If you know
what I mean... I don't ever wanna
hear that song again...
The music CONTINUES as we DISSOLVE TO a grainy moving image
of a dark-haired girl (16) wearing a complicated pink prom
dress pinned with a corsage...
It’s more footage from the 2nd home movie, this time focused
on the girl to the exclusion of all else...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
My mom was pretty once.
(beat)
Maybe even beautiful.
CLOSE ON her eyes, her profile, her blushing cheeks...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
She was delicate too. Like a bloom
on the current, trembling as it
flows past you.
022212R 16.
She covers her face with her hands, trying to make a joke of
it, but she’s uncomfortable under the camera’s scrutiny,
clearly wishing we’d go away and leave her alone...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
And she wasn’t around much. Even
when she was.
Now we see her standing alone at the end of the drive,
looking away from us down the street, one hand absently
smoothing her dress, like she’s waiting for something...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Then one day she wasn’t around at
all.
CUT TO Son walking out of the house into the backyard, eyes
raised to the branches of the old oak tree...
We PULL BACK as he approaches, WIDENING enough to catch the
plastic lawn chair lying on its side, the bare feet dangling
down into frame, twisting ever so slowly...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
I’d never seen a dead body before.
CLOSE ON Son’s face... Uncomprehending. Failure to compute.
We hear the CREAKING of the tree limb as it strains beneath
his mother’s considerable weight...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
I’d never seen ladies’ underpants
either.
Now just inches from the body, Son quietly passes out,
DROPPING like the proverbial sack of potatoes...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Two firsts in one day.
CLOSE ON Son, eyes closed, face smushed in the grass...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
But it wasn’t my fault.
(beat)
About the underpants, I mean.
Slowly he comes to... turns his head... looks up...
SON’S P.O.V.: Straight up his mother’s nubbly robe to her
underwear... It’s beige... Stretched and sagging...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
That’s just how it worked out.
022212R 17.
DISSOLVE TO Son lying on his back in the exact same spot,
listening to his transistor radio and staring up into the
branches, singing along with Olivia Newton-John...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Sometimes I used to imagine I had a
brother.
CUT TO Father, Mom, and Son posing for a family portrait in
front of one of those god-awful “clouds-n-sky” backdrops at
their local strip mall studio...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Or a sister maybe.
Mom balances on a stool up front, wearing what looks like a
muumuu with a belt thrown around it...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
But I was an only child.
Father and Son stand behind Mom in their matching paisley
ties, each resting a light hand on one of her shoulders...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Unless I wasn’t and I just don’t
remember.
As if by magic, a GIRL (8) appears in the small space between
Father and Son... Freckled nose, long blonde hair parted in
the middle, she smiles prettily for the camera...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
It’s fuzzy.
Then she disappears again, leaving the original threesome...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
But I’m pretty sure it was just the
three of us.
Now Mom disappears as well, leaving an awkward duo...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Before it was just the two of us.
Father and Son continue to pose stiffly, both with a hand
raised to rest on someone who’s no longer there...
CUT TO Son on his back in the yard, YAWNING and stretching,
rolling over onto his stomach...
SON’S P.O.V.: A pair of white tube socks sunk in spotless
Stan Smiths, laces double-knotted, 6 inches from his face...
Son blinks, looks up...
022212R 18.
FATHER (O.S.)
Why don’t you get the bag.
(beat)
We can go to the park.
OFF Son’s stricken face, we CUT TO:
INT. SON’S BEDROOM - EVENING - LATER
A moment of darkness...
Then a floor lamp FLICKS on, casting a dim radius of light,
just enough to make out a typical boy’s bedroom circa 1980...
CLOSE ON a cheap frameless mirror glued to the back of the
closet door...
We hear him before we see him... Then Son emerges from the
shadows, stepping into the mirror’s reflection...
His face is red... wet... feverish-looking...
Pausing several feet from the glass, he starts pulling his Tshirt up over his head...
He’s moving like he’s stiff or sore, so it’s a slow, awkward
process...
Finally he gets the T-shirt up and off, lets it drop...
Then he stands there staring at his reflection, blinking back
tears, belly gleaming white against the dark...
VOICE (V.O.)
I think he’s cute.
CUT TO:
EXT. PARK - DAY
WIDE ON the backs of three teenage GIRLS (all 13), sitting in
a row in the otherwise empty bleachers.
From the iPhones and cell phones lying next to them on the
bench, we know we’re now back in the present day.
Over the girls’ shoulders, out on the soccer field, we see a
group of boys about their age playing a pick-up game.
Who?
GIRL TWO
GIRL ONE
Hello. Who do you think?
022212R 19.
THEIR P.O.V.: The tallest, floppy-haired-est boy of the
bunch, busy showing off some fancy footwork.
GIRL TWO
Seriously? Still?
GIRL ONE
Seriously. Still.
(sighing)
Always...
So far this conversation is solely between GIRL ONE (on the
far left) and GIRL TWO (on the far right)...
GIRL THREE, the girl in the middle, remains silent, looking
straight ahead.
GIRL TWO
Isn’t he going out with Alexis?
GIRL ONE
(saucily)
For now.
From the back the girls look about the same... Long hair down
to bare shoulders, bright tank tops and tight jean shorts, an
extra slice of skin peeking out between.
GIRL ONE (CONT’D)
I just need a little time.
GIRL TWO
Yeah...
(laughing)
And a Rufie.
But they’re not the same...
Even though she hasn’t said a word, the gravitational pull
belongs to the girl in the middle.
GIRL ONE
And they aren’t going out. Not
really.
GIRL TWO
Oh yes they are... They totally
hooked up at Joey’s bar mitzvah.
GIRL ONE
(scoffing)
They were dancing together and he
put his hand on her butt. That’s
not going out. That’s not even
hooking up. Not really.
022212R 20.
GIRL TWO
That’s not all they did.
GIRL ONE
Please... How would you know?
GIRL TWO
Because I know. Everyone knows.
Then GIRL THREE
It’s hot. Let’s get some ice cream.
And with that, all three immediately rise as one...
CUT TO the girls walking through the park in a loose,
leisurely row, finally allowing us to see their faces...
All of them are beautiful, but girl three - the girl in the
middle (still) - has something that sets her apart...
Depth maybe... Dignity...
She also has a name... CHRISTINE.
GIRL TWO
I shouldn’t be eating ice cream.
GIRL ONE
Seriously... We’re going up to the
lake soon, and I am like, freaking
out about getting into my suit
again.
CHRISTINE
One ice cream’s not going to kill
you.
GIRL ONE
My dad says I have a slow
metabolism...
(sighing)
I think he might be right.
It is hot out, and the girls drift along like they’ve got all
the time in the world...
They don’t, but they’re too young to know that.
GIRL TWO
Oh my god... How much further?
GIRL ONE
(pouncing)
How much farther.
022212R 21.
GIRL TWO
What’s the difference?
GIRL ONE
You say ‘further’ when you say
like, ‘furthermore.’ You would
never say ‘farthermore.’
GIRL TWO
I would never say ‘farthermore’ or
‘furthermore.’
CLOSE ON Christine, half a step ahead and a million miles
away...
GIRL ONE
You say ‘farther’ when you’re
talking about distance. Like, how
long between here and there. How
much farther.
GIRL TWO
Oh my god - I just want to get
there already...
Reveal the ice cream truck ahead of them, idling along the
edge of the park in its usual spot...
And, framed in the open window, is Pops, waiting patiently.
CUT TO the girls arriving at the truck, pausing to examine
the signage and what’s on offer.
POPS
Hello, girls.
Hi.
CHRISTINE
Girls One and Two don’t have time for pleasantries.
GIRL ONE
What do I want what do I want what
do I want...
GIRL TWO
I thought you weren’t getting
anything.
GIRL ONE
One ice cream’s not gonna kill me.
Christine steps away from them and up to the window, digging
in her shorts for change.
CHRISTINE
Could I get an ice pop, please?
022212R 22.
POPS
Sure. What kind would you like?
CHRISTINE
Um... purple.
Pops gives her a little wink.
POPS
That’s my favorite too.
(then)
Coming right up.
We hear Girl One snicker. Christine looks over, sees Girl Two
trying not to laugh as well.
CHRISTINE
What? What is it?
Not so sotto GIRL ONE
I bet he’s got lots of favorites.
GIRL TWO
Yeah... Like, a ton.
GIRL ONE
Oh my god... You’re gonna make me
pee my pants...
CHRISTINE
You guys...
GIRL ONE
He is huge...
GIRL TWO
And he works in an ice cream
truck...
CHRISTINE
It’s not funny...
GIRL ONE
It is funny...
GIRL TWO
Probably sleeps in there too.
POPS (O.S.)
Here you go.
Christine JERKS her head back toward the window.
CLOSE ON Pops, looking calm and unruffled... If he’s heard
anything, it doesn’t show. He holds out her ice pop.
022212R 23.
Thank you.
CHRISTINE
POPS
My pleasure.
CHRISTINE
Do you... do you have a napkin?
POPS
Of course.
(handing them down)
Take two.
Thanks.
CHRISTINE
Christine glances over to her friends again... There’s more
trouble on the way. You can feel it. Turning back to Pops CHRISTINE (CONT’D)
I’m glad you’re out here today.
It’s so hot.
POPS
(nodding)
Mm-hm... Nothing like a cool treat
when the weather’s warm.
CHRISTINE
(nodding back)
Yeah... Yeah.
She sneaks another look at her friends, sees they’re still
busy whispering and tee-hee-ing among themselves. Then she
turns back to Pops, gives him an awkward smile...
Pops smiles back, not awkward in the least.
CHRISTINE (CONT’D)
So do you... have any... other...
favorites?
Favorites?
POPS
CHRISTINE
Yeah... like... favorite flavors.
Pops looks pleased, like no one’s ever asked before... Maybe
they haven’t.
He tilts his head, considering. Then POPS
Mint chocolate chip.
022212R 24.
CHRISTINE
Me too. But only POPS
The green kind.
Me too.
CHRISTINE
Then, “suspicious” CHRISTINE (CONT’D)
With like, actual chips?
POPS
In a pinch. But I prefer Shavings.
CHRISTINE
POPS
(another wink)
Yes, ma’am.
CHRISTINE
Me too!
(then)
Did you ever try it with Root beer?
POPS
CHRISTINE
Yes. How did POPS
Best ice cream soda in the whole
wide world...
CHRISTINE
I thought I was the only one!
Guess not.
POPS
Christine laughs, delighted... Her smile is genuine now, warm
and radiant, the smile of a natural born heartbreaker.
CHRISTINE
What’s your name?
POPS
Most of the kids call me ‘Pops.’
She makes a face like “Huh?” so he pops a thumb toward the
“Mister Pops” sign.
022212R 25.
CHRISTINE
Got it... Pops. Well... it’s nice
to meet you, Pops. I’m Christine.
POPS
Christine, it’s a treat.
CHRISTINE
Yeah...
(totally sincere)
It is.
Excuse me?
GIRL TWO (O.S.)
Pops and Christine both turn to look at the other girls.
GIRL TWO (CONT’D)
(to Pops, giggling)
Excuse me...
GIRL ONE
(to Pops, also giggling)
She has something she wants to ask
you...
(poking Girl Two)
Go on...
GIRL TWO
How much...
GIRL ONE
She wants to know...
GIRL TWO
How much...
Ask him!
GIRL ONE
GIRL TWO
How much do you... like, exactly
how much do you...
But now they’re both LAUGHING so hard they can’t get the
words out...
CLOSE ON Christine, flushing deeply, looking back at Pops...
CLOSE ON Pops, slowly looking away from the other girls...
His eyes meet Christine’s... And HOLD.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
I think manners are important.
CUT TO:
022212R 26.
EXT. FATHER’S HOUSE - BACKYARD - DAY
Same oak tree, same rickety card table, same sheet cake. But
no streamers this time. And no friends either...
Well, one friend.
Reveal Son sitting at the card table next to SETH (13), both
of them eating huge slices of birthday cake.
The boys are the same age but Seth must’ve drawn the short
straw in the height department. He’s about a quarter Son’s
size with a concave chest and a complimentary face.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
For my thirteenth birthday, I had
Seth over for cake and ice cream.
Finished with his first piece, Son uses a pointer finger to
collect the crumbs on his paper plate.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
I would have invited Bucky too, but
he was dead by then.
He licks his finger clean, already eyeing the cake again...
Corner piece? Or piece with a flower?
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Did I tell you about Bucky?
(beat)
Maybe not.
CUT TO another home movie... We see grassy banks, a sizable
pond, sun on the water...
Then a BOY - lean and half-naked - SWINGS into frame on a
rope, letting go at the exact right moment, arcing out into
the pond with a loud WHOOP...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Bucky was the same age as me and
Seth. But he seemed older.
CUT TO BUCKY (13), emerging from the water, exhilarated and
triumphant, ready for another go...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
I was never really sure why he hung
around with us. Except to look good
by comparison.
CUT TO Bucky WRESTLING the rope out of Seth’s hands, SHOVING
the smaller boy backwards into the dirt...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
But I liked him anyway.
022212R 27.
CUT TO another SHOT of Bucky swinging out over the pond...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
I liked him a lot.
Then the camera SWIVELS back to Seth, still sitting in the
dirt, holding his elbow and fighting back tears...
The angle abruptly CHANGES, DROPPING to the ground as
whoever’s behind it sets it down on its side...
Son enters frame, squatting down next to Seth...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Sometimes I think I liked Bucky
even more than I liked Seth.
He puts a hand on his friend’s shoulder, comforting...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
But I never would have said that
out loud.
Son turns his head, attention already drifting back toward
Bucky and the pond...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Not in a million years.
CUT TO Son’s shadowy bedroom, the sun starting to come up
outside... Son turns over in bed, lifting his head like he’s
heard something... He looks to the window...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Bucky was the one who used to tap
on my window at dawn and drag me
out of bed.
CUT TO Son, now fully dressed, crawling out his ground-floor
window with a white paper bag clutched to his chest...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Bucky was the one who used to
paddle us out onto the pond to go
fishing.
CUT TO the boys in a banged-up canoe, Bucky using a loose
board to move them out onto the water... Son sits up front,
tucking into his bag of donuts...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Bucky was the one who used to bring
the plastic bags.
CUT TO Bucky unhooking a tiny fish from his line... He drops
it in a Ziploc bag filled with pond water, seals it tight...
022212R 28.
Then drops both bag and fish back into the pond...
OUR P.O.V.: The two boys leaning out of the canoe, looking
down INTO CAMERA, Bucky reaching out to poke the bag...
BUCKY
He can see the water... but he
can’t get to it...
THEIR P.O.V.: The fish, DARTING this way and that inside the
bag, hitting plastic in all directions...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Bucky was the one who drowned in
the pond the day before Halloween.
CLOSE ON the fish, WRIGGLING and SNAPPING, the pond waiting
just beyond the bag... always in sight... and out of reach...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
My father said that boys who go out
on the pond by themselves are
getting what they ask for.
OVERHEAD SHOT of the pond in a rainstorm... A small figure in
a maroon windbreaker floats facedown, arms outstretched, the
empty canoe lingering just a few yards away...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
My father said that we all get what
we ask for.
(beat)
Every time.
Back to the party, Son helping himself to a corner piece...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
I missed Bucky a lot.
CUT TO Son taking a big BITE, chewing mindlessly...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
He was missed.
CUT TO Seth still picking at his first piece, legs swinging
under the chair because they kind of don’t reach...
Then reveal Father watching them from inside the house...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
When the party was over, we drove
Seth home.
CUT TO Seth waving good-bye from the porch of a small but
tidy ranch house at dusk, his father pulling him inside...
022212R 29.
Son waves back from the passenger seat of the Rambler, Father
behind the wheel, staring straight ahead, fingers DRUMMING...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
The whole way back, Father didn’t
say a word.
CUT TO a shot on Father and Son’s backs as they look forward
through the windshield...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
I didn’t know it at the time, but
he was waiting for something.
Son turns his head, sneaks a look at Father, then turns back
to the windshield and the darkened street beyond...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
I didn’t find out what for until we
got home.
CUT TO Son following Father into the house, the front door
closing, the porch light CLICKING off...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Then, when we walked into the
kitchen...
Father comes toward us through the kitchen, Son partially
visible behind him...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
...he turned around...
Father stops, turns around, his back BLOCKING CAMERA...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
...and punched me in the stomach.
We don’t see the hit... We don’t see anything at all...
All we see is Father turning back around and exiting frame...
And there’s Son again, clutching his stomach with both hands,
face a mask of pain and surprise...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
I’d forgotten to say, ‘Thank you.’
He slowly sinks to the linoleum, disappearing from frame...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
I’d forgotten to say, ‘Thank you,
Father, for driving Seth home after
the party.’
022212R 30.
We HOLD ON the empty kitchen, nothing to look at now except
dated cabinetry...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
I think manners are important.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. ELEMENTARY SCHOOL - MORNING
WIDE ON the silver Prius as it inches up in front of a lowslung, 60s-era complex, fighting it out with a hundred other
cars for a safe place to make a drop.
A space opens up near the curb... But just before the Prius
can pull in, a maroon minivan SWOOPS in from out of nowhere.
DAD (V.O.)
No, after you... I insist.
(sotto)
Bitch.
SAM (V.O.)
What did you say?
INT./EXT. PRIUS - CONTINUOUS
Dad grits his teeth, eyes still locked on the mom in the
minivan who just took his spot.
DAD
Nothing... Nothing, buddy.
SAM
Why did you call that lady a
‘bitch?’
DAD
Because...
(then)
Never mind. You weren’t supposed to
hear that.
SAM
Can I get out now?
DAD
No. You wait until we get to the
curb.
SAM
But I’m gonna be late! Miss Myeong
doesn’t like it if we’re late...
022212R 31.
DAD
(sighing)
Alright... Hold your horses.
He inches the car forward a little, looking all around,
making sure the coast is clear.
DAD (CONT’D)
Okay. But watch yourself getting
out.
I will...
SAM
Sam opens the rear door nearest the curb.
Bye, Dad.
SAM (CONT’D)
DAD
And don’t tell your mom, buddy.
SAM
Don’t tell what?
Forget it.
(then)
Love you!
Love you.
Don’t -
DAD
SAM
DAD
SLAM!
DAD (CONT’D)
...slam the door.
Dad watches his son slip between cars to the sidewalk, halfburied under his enormous backpack...
HONK HONK!!!!
He turns his head, sees the woman who stole his spot trying
to get his attention... He’s accidentally boxed her in.
Dad smiles to himself.
DAD (CONT’D)
Oh. Oh I’m sorry. Do you need to
get out now? After you took my
space?
022212R 32.
The woman looks at him through her car window, raises her
hands like, “What are you waiting for?”
DAD (CONT’D)
You in a rush, sweetheart? Got
somewhere to be?
HONK HONK!!!!
Dad removes his thermos from the cup holder and takes a
loooong sip, relishing this fleeting moment of power...
DAD (CONT’D)
Too bad... Now you can wait.
CUT TO:
INT./EXT. PRIUS - MINUTES LATER
We find the car moving quickly down a suburban street, going
a good 15 miles over the limit...
The ranch homes around here are definitely small but not
necessarily tidy. Actually, they’re pretty ratty.
Dad’s behind the wheel, buzzed on caffeine and smooth grooves
courtesy of Gerry Rafferty, “70s on 7” on the radio again.
DAD/RADIO
When I wanted you to share my
life... I had no doubt in my
mind... And it's been you...
woman... ri-i-ight down the line...
Dad is into it, shaking his head, shimmying in his seat...
DAD/RADIO (CONT’D)
You know how much I lean on you...
Only you can see... Changes that
I've been through...
Then something SNAGS his attention out the side window...
DAD
Whoa whoa whoa...
He HITS the brakes and slows...
DAD (CONT’D)
What. Have. We. Here?
Dad brings the car to a complete stop in the middle of the
street, eyes on the sidewalk...
022212R 33.
DAD’S P.O.V.: A mid-century modern dining chair, used and
abused but still great, wedged deep in a trash pile at the
curb in front of somebody’s house.
DAD (CONT’D)
Winner winner chicken dinner.
CUT TO Dad parking in front of the driveway, getting out,
practically skipping over to the chair.
DAD (CONT’D)
Oh yeah... Oh. Yeah.
He runs his hands over the curved back...
DAD (CONT’D)
Teak?
(beat)
Oak.
(beat)
Birch. Definitely.
Inspecting the seat and sides...
DAD (CONT’D)
No - teak. No... ash.
(beat)
No idea.
He squats down, trying to see under the chair.
DAD (CONT’D)
You don’t think...
Oh yes - this chair might actually be the real McCoy. Like a
Hans Wegner maybe.
Cooing to himself, Dad starts YANKING it free, sending trash
tumbling in all directions.
DAD (CONT’D)
Yes, I do... Yes, I do think...
VOICE (O.S.)
Hey. What are you doing?
Dad JUMPS, turns to look up the driveway toward the house...
Reveal a MAN (40s) up on the porch, bushy brows furrowed.
This dude’s tall, bald, and built like a barrel with arms.
MAN
I said what the fuck are you doing?
Dad lets go of the chair... then reaches for it again,
laughing nervously.
022212R 34.
DAD
Is this... is this yours?
The man starts crossing his weed-choked lawn... quickly.
DAD (CONT’D)
I was just looking at your uh... at
your chair here.
MAN
Did I say you could go through my
stuff?
As the man steps up Dad takes an unconscious step back.
DAD
Well you were throwing it away so I
thought MAN
I don’t give a shit...
DAD
I thought it would be alright MAN
I don’t give a shit what you
thought.
Hey -
DAD
MAN
I don’t like people outside my
house...
DAD
Do we need to use that kind of MAN
...blocking my fucking driveway
with their car...
DAD
Hey - sorry.
MAN
...and going through my shit.
DAD
Hey - I said I was sorry.
MAN
I don’t need your ‘sorry.’
DAD
Then what -
022212R 35.
MAN
I need you to stop going through my
shit.
This guy is intense. And he smells like week-old boxers.
Look -
DAD
MAN
No you look, asshole... Next time
you ring my buzzer first. And then
you ask me if you can go poking
through my garbage.
DAD
Hey... Look... I’m sorry. But if
you throw something away then it’s
up for grabs! Anyone can take it!
That’s how it works...
MAN
Yeah? That’s how it works?
DAD
Yeah - that’s how it works.
The man looks at him, bristling...
Dad tries to bring it down a notch, puts on his “we’re all
adults here” voice.
DAD (CONT’D)
You don’t want it anymore - clearly
- and I do so... I was going to
take it. Yes.
(palms up)
But I didn’t mean any harm... I
swear. And if I offended you, I
apologize. Alright?
Beat.
Okay?
Okay.
DAD (CONT’D)
MAN
DAD
So... I can take it?
Beat.
MAN
Yeah. You can take it.
022212R 36.
Thank you.
DAD
As Dad starts inching over to it 500.
Excuse me?
MAN
DAD
MAN
500 bucks and you can take it.
Dad’s mouth drops.
DAD
Oh come ON!
500 bucks.
MAN
DAD
You were throwing it away!
MAN
Now I’m not. Now I want 500 bucks
for it. Take it or leave it.
DAD
No! I’m not paying you 500 dollars
for something you were going to
throw out 5 minutes ago! That’s...
that’s crazy!
MAN
Then get the fuck off my lawn.
Then he SHOVES Dad, shocking the shit out of him... Whoa...
Dad is not used to being manhandled by strangers.
DAD
Hey... Hey! Don’t do that...
MAN
What? Do what?
DAD
Just... Just stop it, okay?
But he PUSHES Dad again, harder, almost knocking him down...
DAD (CONT’D)
HEY! I said STOP IT!
022212R 37.
Stop what?
MAN
DAD
Stop PUSHING me, man!
Then the guy SHOVES Dad a third time...
MAN
Now what? Now what?
DAD
I said don’t fucking PUSH ME!
Then Dad SHOVES the man back... AND GETS A FACE FULL OF FIST
IN RETURN...
The last thing Dad sees before losing consciousness is a potbellied BOY (2) in a baggy diaper, standing up on the man’s
porch and sucking hard on a grubby thumb, watching as Dad
STAGGERS around a bit before COLLAPSING gracelessly into the
trash pile...
Then it’s lights out.
CUT TO BLACK
NARRATOR (V.O.)
There are nights I dream of a beach
in winter...
SLOW FADE UP to a storm-swept coastline...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Somewhere on Long Island maybe...
Montauk... Someplace I’ve read
about but never been... and never
will...
Everything we see - surf, sand, sky, the grass whipping back
and forth - is washed out in shades of gray and brown...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
And it’s day but it’s dark...
(beat)
Windy...
It’s a desolate scene... No one around for miles...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
There’s a tiny cottage... sitting
by itself among the dunes...
We turn to our left and spot a one-room house built close to
the sand, a warm light shining from the open window...
022212R 38.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
And inside...
All of a sudden we find ourselves inside the cottage, down on
the worn wood floor on the worn rag rug...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
...is a little girl... her hair in
pigtails...
A little blonde GIRL (4) sits facing us, legs crossed under
her, playing quietly with her doll...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
And I know that I am her...
She lifts her eyes to CAMERA, gives us a cute smile...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
And that she is me...
Then her head swivels to the open window, like she heard a
noise outside... Her smile fades, whole body going still...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
And I know something else as
well...
The girl gets to her feet, walks on tip-toes over to the open
window, peering into the darkness beyond...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
(whispering)
...we’re terrified...
HER/OUR P.O.V.: Out there in the night... No more than five
feet away... A pair of eyes like burning coals...
Evil... Animal...
THEY LUNGE AT US...
The little girl SCREAMS, a small sound immediately lost to
the wind and the waves...
SHE REACHES OUT, SLAMS THE WINDOW SHUT WITH BOTH HANDS...
JUST IN TIME...
TREMBLING WITH FEAR, SHE LOOKS TO HER RIGHT...
AND SEES ANOTHER WINDOW... WIDE OPEN...
SHE TURNS BACK TO THE FIRST WINDOW, SEES THOSE TERRIBLE EYES
SLIDING QUICKLY OUT OF FRAME, HEADING FOR THAT OPEN WINDOW...
022212R 39.
SHE/WE CRY OUT AND RACE TO IT... GETTING THERE JUST AS THE
EYES DO... SLAMMING IT SHUT WITHOUT A SECOND TO SPARE...
THEN WE LOOK TO OUR RIGHT...
AND SEE ANOTHER OPEN WINDOW...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
And we’re running...
WE RACE TO IT... ARRIVING JUST BEFORE THE EYES DO... AND SLAM
IT SHUT WITH A BANG...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
...as fast as we can...
THEN THERE’S ANOTHER WINDOW... SLAM!
AND ANOTHER WINDOW... SLAM!
NARRATOR (V.O.)
...because we know...
THEN IT’S AN OPEN DOOR... SLAM!
AND ANOTHER DOOR... SLAM!
NARRATOR (V.O.)
...we know what’s out there...
ROUND AND ROUND WE GO, SHUTTING WINDOWS AND DOORS...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
...trying to get in...
ALWAYS IN THE NICK OF TIME...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Because we know...
CLOSE ON THE GIRL...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
...that when it does...
GIBBERING...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
...when it does...
HYSTERICAL...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
...when it does...
022212R 40.
THEN ALL OF A SUDDEN WE’RE OUTSIDE... IN THE DARK... LOOKING
INTO THE COTTAGE THROUGH AN OPEN WINDOW...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
And then the dream changes...
WE’RE NOW FACE TO FACE WITH THE LITTLE GIRL AS SHE STARES
BACK AT US THROUGH THE WINDOW... MOUTH OPEN WIDE... MAKING A
SOUND WE CANNOT HEAR...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Suddenly I’m outside...
SHE SLAMS THE WINDOW SHUT... LOCKING US OUT...
WE SEE AN OPEN WINDOW TO OUR LEFT... AND RACE FOR IT, GETTING
THERE A SECOND TOO LATE... SLAM!
NARRATOR (V.O.)
And I’m running...
WE SEE ANOTHER WINDOW AND RACE FOR IT... BUT SHE GETS THERE
BEFORE WE DO... SLAM!
NARRATOR (V.O.)
...trying to get in...
THERE’S AN OPEN DOOR... SLAM!
AN OPEN WINDOW... SLAM!
NARRATOR (V.O.)
But she won’t let me...
WE’RE RAGING... RAVENOUS...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
...because she knows...
STALKING HER AROUND THE COTTAGE...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
...that when I do...
GET HER GET HER GET HER...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
...when I do...
AROUND AND AROUND AND AROUND...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
...when I do...
NO END IN SIGHT...
SLAM! SLAM! SLAM! SLAM!
022212R 41.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
And it’s day but it’s dark...
(beat)
Windy...
THEN THE SCREEN CUTS TO BLACK, TAKING ALL SIGHT AND SOUND
WITH IT IN ONE HARSH WHOOSH OF AIR...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
I’ve had that dream more than once.
A beat while we catch our breath...
Beat.
Beat.
Beat.
Then we hear the dull CRUNCH of someone trudging through tall
grass as the screen gradually LIGHTENS to day...
We’re on their back, trailing a few feet behind, moving
steadily through the park...
Shoulders hunched, hands in their pockets, wearing a navy
blue hoodie with the hood up, we have no idea who this is...
As they keep pushing forward we hear SOUNDS of people off to
the left and right, out having fun and enjoying the day...
Nothing to do with us...
When we can’t stand another second not knowing who this is Christine.
POPS (O.S.)
The figure in the hoodie keeps going, not breaking stride...
Christine?
POPS (O.S.) (CONT’D)
The figure hesitates... then turns their head toward Pops’s
voice, allowing us a glimpse of profile...
Hi.
POPS (O.S.) (CONT’D)
A beat... Then she starts moving to the right, toward Pops...
The CAMERA finds her back again, revealing the ice cream
truck ahead of her at the curb, Pops in his window.
POPS (CONT’D)
I thought that was you.
022212R 42.
We’re still behind her as she stops several feet back from
the truck, hovering, like she won’t be stopping for long.
CLOSE ON Pops, taking in everything there is to take in...
POPS (CONT’D)
How’re you doing?
POPS’S P.O.V.: Christine.
Same nose, same eyes, same hair.
But it’s not the same girl.
Not even close.
She shrugs, her vibe somewhere between slack and stone, eyes
not quite meeting his.
POPS (CONT’D)
Where’re your friends?
Another shrug as she pretends to study the signage next to
the window. Pops mops his brow with a handkerchief (white,
folded), eyes flicking over the girl’s thick sweatshirt.
POPS (CONT’D)
(beat)
Another hot one, huh?
Christine shrugs again, looking past the truck now, eyes on
the point she’d been walking toward a moment ago.
POPS (CONT’D)
How about an ice pop?
(beat)
You want an ice pop?
Christine takes a step back, eyes still focused past the rear
of the truck, double-checking something.
POPS (CONT’D)
Let me get you an ice pop.
(beat)
Purple, right?
Pops opens one of the long coolers inside, plucks an ice pop
from its frosty depths.
POPS (CONT’D)
(half to himself)
Purple’s the best.
He peels off the wrapper, folds a napkin around the stick,
hands it through the window...
022212R 43.
But the girl’s attention is still off to her left, past the
truck, so his arm hangs in space for a moment.
Christine.
POPS (CONT’D)
She turns her head and he holds the pop out another inch.
Here.
(beat)
Take it.
POPS (CONT’D)
Pops readjusts his grip, holding it between thumb and
forefinger.
POPS (CONT’D)
(softly)
On the house.
Christine reaches out... and takes the pop, careful to grab
the stick where their fingers won’t meet.
She stares at it like she’s not sure what she’s got. Then Thanks.
CHRISTINE
HONK HONK!!!!
Christine JUMPS, looks to her left again... And goes rigid.
Pops leans out his window a little, looks to his right.
POPS’S P.O.V.: A Chevy Monte Carlo, flaking gold paint and
long past its prime, idling at the curb behind the truck...
From this angle we can’t quite see who’s behind the wheel.
POPS
Is that your ride?
(beat)
Christine?
Eyes on the Chevy CHRISTINE
I gotta go.
Already on the move Bye.
CHRISTINE (CONT’D)
We PAN WITH her, leaving Pops and the truck behind...
022212R 44.
Before she gets to the car, Christine drops the ice pop in a
trash can at the curb, then gets in on the passenger side...
The car pulls away quickly, muffler protesting...
DAD (V.O.)
Why is this happening?
CRANE UP on the Chevy as it drives past the truck and away
from us, heading toward the horizon... then KEEP WIDENING to
reveal more and more of the busy scene along the park...
DAD (V.O.)
It doesn’t seem right.
Sun still shining... Kids still running and playing...
DAD (V.O.)
Doesn’t seem fair.
Still plenty of fun to be had on this beautiful summer day...
DAD (V.O.)
Then again...
SMASHCUT TO Dad getting A FACE FULL OF FIST...
DAD (V.O.)
I might have had it coming.
It’s the same scene we saw earlier, the moment right before
Dad loses consciousness and falls into the trash pile...
We’re on his back as he gets CLOCKED, head SNAPPING around to
CAMERA... Then we FREEZE and HOLD on his stricken visage...
DAD (V.O.)
Maybe this is right.
We UNFREEZE, allowing Dad to commence with the WEAVING...
DAD (V.O.)
Maybe this is fair.
And the STAGGERING around...
DAD (V.O.)
Either way... it’s a surprise.
And the COLLAPSING gracelessly into the trash pile...
DAD (V.O.)
You never think you’re the asshole.
Then we CUT TO BLACK (mercifully)...
022212R 45.
DAD (V.O.)
Until the universe suggests
otherwise.
CUT TO:
EXT. STREET - DAY
This is what’s clearly the trendy, “Boho” part of town...
And there’s Dad - unblemished and pre-fight - walking toward
us, juggling bookbag, newspaper, laptop, and thermos...
DAD (V.O.)
You think you’re just going about
your business.
He stops outside a miniscule storefront, snakes his keys out
of his pocket, unlocks the door... We hear a bell RING...
DAD (V.O.)
Trying to get through the day.
CUT TO Dad inside the store, flicking on a row of LIGHTS...
Reveal a short narrow space - cement floor, exposed brick,
industrial lighting - stacked with mid-century furniture...
DAD (V.O.)
Putting one foot in front of the
other.
Dad makes his way to a steel Tanker desk at the back, dumps
his shit on top of a stack of other shit...
DAD (V.O.)
Paying the rent.
CUT TO Dad doing a few half-hearted TWISTS, ROLLING his neck
around, getting ready for the day...
DAD (V.O.)
But it’s not that simple.
CUT TO Dad turning the sign on the front door around to
“OPEN,” looking down the street both ways, hopeful...
DAD (V.O.)
It’s never that simple.
We hear the bell RING again...
BEGIN MONTAGE, Dad addressing the CAMERA like it’s the
customer... Each CUT or change in action indicates he’s
talking to someone new...
022212R 46.
CUT TO Dad walking toward us from the back...
DAD
Good morning!
CUT TO Dad getting up from his desk in the back...
Morning!
DAD (CONT’D)
CUT TO Dad looking up from his desk in the back...
Morning.
DAD (CONT’D)
CUT TO Dad not looking up from his desk in the back...
DAD (CONT’D)
Let me know if you have any
questions.
CUT TO Dad sitting at his desk, sipping coffee...
DAD (CONT’D)
Were you looking for anything in
particular?
Playing with a pen...
DAD (CONT’D)
First time in?
Surfing the web...
DAD (CONT’D)
Is this your first time in the
store?
CUT TO Dad sitting on his desk...
DAD (CONT’D)
Can I ask how you heard about us?
Sitting on his desk, arms crossed...
DAD (CONT’D)
No, we’ve been here about... three
years?
CUT
DAD (CONT’D)
It’s been about 3 years now.
CUT
022212R 47.
DAD (CONT’D)
About 3 years.
CUT
DAD (CONT’D)
Just opened.
CUT TO Dad sitting at his desk again, leaning back in his
chair, running his hands through that good head of hair...
DAD (CONT’D)
No. No, sorry...
CUT
DAD (CONT’D)
No, we had something similar but...
CUT
DAD (CONT’D)
Crate & Barrel.
CUT
DAD (CONT’D)
You could try Crate & Barrel.
CUT
DAD (CONT’D)
I’d try Crate & Barrel.
CUT
DAD (CONT’D)
If I were a betting man...
CUT TO Dad standing back from the store window, watching the
single women walk by, talking to himself...
DAD (CONT’D)
I love you I love you I love you...
CUT
DAD (CONT’D)
I love you I love you I...
(getting a better look)
hate you...
CUT
DAD (CONT’D)
I love you I love you I LOVE you...
022212R 48.
CUT
DAD (CONT’D)
I love you I love you I...
(getting a better look)
Ay-yi-yi-yi-YI-yi...
CUT
DAD (CONT’D)
Oy-yo-yo-yo-YO-yo...
CUT TO Dad sitting at his desk again, addressing CAMERA...
DAD (CONT’D)
We don’t. Sorry.
Picking under a fingernail...
Nope.
DAD (CONT’D)
Scratching his chest...
DAD (CONT’D)
Employees only.
Stretching his arms above his head...
DAD (CONT’D)
I think there’s one at the gas
station maybe?
Ringing up a sale...
DAD (CONT’D)
Sure, it’s right in the back. On
the left.
CUT TO Dad standing back from the store window again,
watching the single men walk by...
Bottom.
DAD (CONT’D)
CUT
Bottom.
DAD (CONT’D)
CUT
Top.
CUT
DAD (CONT’D)
022212R 49.
Bottom.
DAD (CONT’D)
CUT
Top.
DAD (CONT’D)
CUT
Bottom.
DAD (CONT’D)
CUT
Bottom.
DAD (CONT’D)
CUT
Bottom.
DAD (CONT’D)
CUT TO Dad hunched over his desk eating a takeout lunch (egg
salad on wheat with Kettle Chips and a can of Sprite)...
We LINGER here just long enough to feel uncomfortable, just
long enough to wish maybe he had someone else to talk to...
CLOSE ON Dad, addressing CAMERA again...
DAD (CONT’D)
It’s a Bovenkamp.
CUT
DAD (CONT’D)
A Bovenkamp?
CUT
B-O-V...
DAD (CONT’D)
CUT
DAD (CONT’D)
It’s an original.
CUT
E-N-K...
CUT
DAD (CONT’D)
022212R 50.
DAD (CONT’D)
I know for a fact.
CUT
A-M-P...
DAD (CONT’D)
CUT
DAD (CONT’D)
Because it says so.
CUT
Bovenkamp.
DAD (CONT’D)
CUT
DAD (CONT’D)
It’s a beautiful piece.
CUT
Gorgeous.
DAD (CONT’D)
CUT
Gorgeous.
DAD (CONT’D)
CUT
Gorgeous.
DAD (CONT’D)
CUT TO Dad talking with Customer 1 (O.S.)...
DAD (CONT’D)
Yeah, it’s a really nice piece.
CUT TO Dad talking with Customer 2 (O.S.)...
DAD (CONT’D)
There’s been a lot of interest in
this.
Customer 1
DAD (CONT’D)
Do you want a tearsheet?
Customer 2
022212R 51.
DAD (CONT’D)
Actually someone was just looking
at this this morning.
Customer 1
DAD (CONT’D)
You can take it home, show it to
your...
Customer 2
DAD (CONT’D)
I think they’re supposed to come
back this afternoon.
Customer 1
Your...
DAD (CONT’D)
Customer 2
DAD (CONT’D)
I’d jump on it now.
Customer 1
DAD (CONT’D)
Your partner? Boyfriend?
Customer 2
DAD (CONT’D)
Uh... no, I’m married...
Customer 1
DAD (CONT’D)
Partner. Right.
Customer 2
DAD (CONT’D)
Totally married...
Customer 1
DAD (CONT’D)
Well take it home, show it to the
mister, see what he thinks...
Customer 2
DAD (CONT’D)
To a woman... yeah...
022212R 52.
Customer 1
DAD (CONT’D)
In the meantime, I could put you on
our mailing list...
Customer 2
DAD (CONT’D)
No, it’s okay... it’s flattering...
Customer 1
DAD (CONT’D)
Let you know when we’ve got a sale
coming up...
Customer 2
DAD (CONT’D)
It’s always flattering...
Customer 1
DAD (CONT’D)
Okay, well...
Customer 2
DAD (CONT’D)
Okay, well...
Customer 1
DAD (CONT’D)
We get new stuff in all the time...
Customer 2
DAD (CONT’D)
We’ve got a new shipment coming in
next week...
Customer 1
DAD (CONT’D)
So stop by...
Customer 2
DAD (CONT’D)
I hope you’ll stop by...
Customer 1
DAD (CONT’D)
Say hello...
022212R 53.
Customer 2
DAD (CONT’D)
Check us out...
Customer 1
DAD (CONT’D)
And thanks for coming in.
Customer 2
DAD (CONT’D)
Thanks for coming in.
CUT
Bye.
DAD (CONT’D)
CUT
Bye.
DAD (CONT’D)
CUT
Bye.
DAD (CONT’D)
CUT
Bye.
DAD (CONT’D)
CUT TO Dad flipping the sign on the door to “CLOSED” again...
DAD (V.O.)
We’re all just going about our
business.
He turns around, sagging against the door...
DAD (V.O.)
Trying to get through the day.
He runs one hand through his hair (still good)...
DAD (V.O.)
Putting one foot in front of the
other.
Then he gathers himself, walks out of frame...
SMASHCUT TO Dad getting A FACE FULL OF FIST...
022212R 54.
DAD (V.O.)
Even us assholes.
Light’s out and CUT TO BLACK
We hear the dull CRUNCH of someone trudging through tall
grass as the screen gradually LIGHTENS to day...
We’re on a wide back, made wider by a striped T-shirt that’s
well on its way to soaked through...
It’s Son, hustling along ahead of CAMERA, thick arms clasped
around that red canvas bag, glove tucked under one arm...
Reveal we’re in the park, right behind Son and way behind
Father as they enter the large clearing, separated from the
rest of the park by dense clumps of bushes and shrubs...
It’s a quiet spot... Private... Where they can be alone...
Son makes his way to the far side of the clearing, PANTING,
forcing himself to move at a steady clip...
At last he comes to a stop and turns around, face greasy with
perspiration...
He sets the bag and glove down on the grass, then looks OVER
CAMERA, his expression carefully neutral... A beat...
Then, from BEHIND CAMERA, on the other side of the clearing FATHER (O.S.)
Bring. The bag. Here.
Son blinks, picks up the bag again...
Cradling it to his belly, he brushes PAST CAMERA...
We TURN with him, watching as he travels across the clearing,
bee-lining toward the out-of-focus figure on the horizon
about 50 feet away, hands on hips, waiting...
VOICE (O.S.)
Oh my god. Tragedy.
We PAN AWAY from Son and catch two people strolling along the
dirt path just outside the clearing...
It’s Girl One and Girl Two, deep in conversation...
Why?
GIRL TWO
We PUSH TOWARD them, forgetting all about Father and Son...
GIRL TWO (CONT’D)
What happened?
022212R 55.
The girls look neither left nor right, completely oblivious
to what’s going on in the clearing... Because all of that
happened a long time ago... Long before they were born...
GIRL ONE
You would not believe GIRL TWO
You didn’t fit into your bathing
suit.
GIRL ONE
No. But that was a whole other
thing...
(sighing)
This was something else.
GIRL TWO
What? Tell me.
GIRL ONE
Ugh! So wrong...
GIRL TWO
Tell me already!
GIRL ONE
You know how my brother has that
cat trap?
A what?
GIRL TWO
GIRL ONE
A cat trap. You know - that metal
cage... it’s long... like a box...
Oh yeah...
GIRL TWO
GIRL ONE
And you put the food down at one
end and then the cat comes in after
the food...
Yeah...
GIRL TWO
GIRL ONE
And then the little door closes? So
it’s like, caught in there?
GIRL TWO
Yeahyeahyeah...
GIRL ONE
You know what I’m talking about?
022212R 56.
Yeah.
GIRL TWO
GIRL ONE
I showed it to you.
GIRL TWO
I said yes. God.
GIRL ONE
Well, right before we left to go up
to the lake, this time, my brother
caught like, two puppies in there.
How?
GIRL TWO
GIRL ONE
No. Idea. He just did.
GIRL TWO
Oh my god... Were they cute?
GIRL ONE
So cute... One was a boy and one
was a girl and we named them
‘Harry’ and ‘Hermione.’
Awwww...
GIRL TWO
GIRL ONE
Isn’t that cute?
So cute.
GIRL TWO
GIRL ONE
And usually my dad just like, takes
the cats or dogs or whatever to the
ASPCA and drops them off, right?
Because they’re strays? And my
dad’s allergic, so we can never
have any pets...
GIRL TWO
And then what? They just put them
to sleep?
GIRL ONE
I don’t know. I just know that’s
where he takes them.
Wow.
GIRL TWO
022212R 57.
GIRL ONE
I know. But this time we didn’t
have time to go to the ASPCA
because my dad really wanted to get
on the road and get up to the
lake...
Right...
GIRL TWO
GIRL ONE
Rush-hour traffic, blah blah
blah...
Right...
GIRL TWO
GIRL ONE
So he like, found this empty box in
the garage and was like (doing her “Dad” voice)
‘Put them in here and write PUPPIES
on it and then put the box out on
the curb.’
What?
GIRL TWO
GIRL ONE
I know! And I was like, why? And he
was like, ‘JUST DO IT. Just put the
box on the curb and then maybe
someone will like, walk by and take
them.’
Whoa...
GIRL TWO
GIRL ONE
And he was totally serious. Like,
'DO IT.'
GIRL TWO
So not fair...
GIRL ONE
I know. I wasn’t even the one who
caught them! Anyway... So I put
them in the box and I write
‘PUPPIES’ on like, every side.
‘PLEASE TAKE.’ And I make sure that
like, the top is folded down so
they can’t get out but they can
still breathe, right?
Right...
GIRL TWO
022212R 58.
GIRL ONE
And then I put them out on the curb
by the street...
Right...
GIRL TWO
GIRL ONE
And so we get in the car and we’re
on our way up to the lake and then
my dad was like, ‘Did you remember
to put the puppies in that box like
I told you?’ And I was like, ‘Yes.’
And then he was like, ‘Where did
you put it exactly?’ And I was
like, ‘On the curb. Like you said.
Right next to the garbage cans.’
Whaaaat?
GIRL TWO
GIRL ONE
That’s what he said! He was like,
‘Whaaaat?’ And then I was like, ‘Oh
my god - what if when the trash
guys come, they just throw them
away?’
GIRL TWO
Oh my god...
GIRL ONE
Because this was a Friday and the
trash guys come on Saturday...
Oh my g-
GIRL TWO
GIRL ONE
And they have that truck that makes
all that noise...
Oh my g-
GIRL TWO
GIRL ONE
It’s like, super loud...
GIRL TWO
Oh. My god.
GIRL ONE
And my dad wouldn’t even turn
around! He was like, ‘We are almost
there and I am not turning around
and driving three hours back to the
city...
(MORE)
022212R 59.
GIRL ONE (CONT'D)
NO.’ So the whole time we’re up at
the lake I’m wondering like, can
you hear two puppies in a box like,
barking, over the sound of a
garbage truck...
GIRL TWO
Not if the top’s folded down.
GIRL ONE
Seriously! And those trucks have
like, trash compactors, so...
GIRL TWO
Oh my god... That suuuucks...
I know.
GIRL ONE
GIRL TWO
Poor Harry and Hermioneeee...
I know!
GIRL ONE
GIRL TWO
They were so cute...
GIRL ONE
I know! The whole weekend was
ruined. Like, I couldn’t eat I was
so freaked out...
GIRL TWO
That’s so sad...
Right?
GIRL ONE
POPS (O.S.)
Afternoon, ladies.
Reveal the girls are now standing in front of the ice cream
truck at the edge of the park...
Pops is framed in his window, leaning on his arms, smiling
pleasantly.
Hiiii...
GIRL ONE/GIRL TWO
POPS
So what’ll it be?
GIRL TWO
I’m feeling like -
022212R 60.
GIRL ONE
Like chocolate?
GIRL TWO
Like chocolate.
Me too!
GIRL ONE
GIRL TWO
But I think we should just get ice
pops.
GIRL ONE
(deflating)
Yeah...
GIRL TWO
Because it’s just sugar water, you
know?
Yeah...
GIRL ONE
GIRL TWO
So just two ice pops, please.
POPS
What kind would you like?
GIRL TWO
It doesn’t matter.
If Pops finds this attitude baffling, he recovers instantly.
POPS
Coming right up.
GIRL TWO
(to Girl One)
Did I tell you Kevin texted me
back?
No.
Yes.
When?
GIRL ONE
GIRL TWO
GIRL ONE
Coy, like she can’t get into it with a third party present GIRL TWO
I’ll tell you...
022212R 61.
Pops reappears at the window, gives them their pops in
exchange for a couple dollar bills.
POPS
Here you are... Thank you...
Thanks...
GIRL TWO
GIRL ONE
Thanks...
(to Girl Two)
When? Last night?
GIRL TWO
I’ll tell you.
POPS
Where’s your friend?
The girls blink, surprised by the question...
More surprised by who’s asking.
Who?
Who?
Christine.
Oh...
Oh...
GIRL TWO
GIRL ONE
POPS
GIRL TWO
GIRL ONE
They turn to look at each other, smooth foreheads crinkling.
Ummmm...
Ummmm...
GIRL TWO
GIRL ONE
Then, like they’re trying to read each other’s minds but not
totally succeeding GIRL TWO
We haven’t seen her in awhile...
Yeah...
GIRL ONE
022212R 62.
GIRL TWO
She’s been really...
Really...
GIRL ONE
GIRL TWO
She’s been really...
Busy...
Yeah...
GIRL ONE
GIRL TWO
GIRL ONE
She’s been busy...
The girls start nibbling on their ice pops, talking to Pops
but looking only at each other...
Yeah...
Yeah...
GIRL TWO
GIRL ONE
More thoughtful nibbling. Then GIRL ONE (CONT’D)
And he’s really...
GIRL TWO
Like really...
GIRL ONE
He’s really like...
(beat)
Strict...
Yeah...
GIRL TWO
GIRL ONE
Without being aware of it, their eyes have gone veiled and
their voices flat, like someone turned the dial down...
Like, way down...
Who?
POPS
GIRL ONE
Like super strict...
022212R 63.
Yeah...
Yeah...
Who?
Her dad...
GIRL TWO
GIRL ONE
POPS
GIRL TWO
GIRL ONE
Her step-dad...
Yeah...
GIRL TWO
GIRL ONE
We haven’t seen Christine in
awhile...
Yeah...
Yeah...
So...
So...
GIRL TWO
GIRL ONE
GIRL TWO
GIRL ONE
CLOSE ON Girl One, looking at Girl Two, nibbling on her pop.
CLOSE ON Girl Two, looking at Girl One, nibbling on her pop.
CLOSE ON Pops, eyes shifting between them.
POPS
Well... tell her I said ‘hello.’
Both girls grin, amused, eyes sparkling mischievously as the
dial cranks back up to “10.”
GIRL TWO
Yeah. We will.
GIRL ONE
Yeah. We’ll tell her.
Giggling, they turn as one, and then, over their shoulders Byyyye...
GIRL ONE/GIRL TWO
022212R 64.
CLOSE ON Pops, settling back down in his window...
DAD (V.O.)
It’s little things.
CUT TO:
INT. DAD’S HOUSE - HALLWAY - MORNING
Reveal Dad all the way at the other end of a long hall,
standing in profile, looking through an open door...
DAD (V.O.)
Small. Barely noticeable. Nothing
you can really put your finger on.
CLOSE ON Dad... Now that we see his whole face, we can see
one side is ringed with a deep, purple-ish bruise... He looks
like a prizefighter minus the prize...
DAD (V.O.)
Except when I do.
(beat)
Put my finger on it.
DAD’S P.O.V.: Sam, in his bedroom, making his bed... Fluffing
the pillow... Folding the top sheet down and lining it up
perfectly parallel with the blanket...
DAD (V.O.)
Sometimes I can put my finger right
on it.
CUT TO Sam standing in front of the frameless mirror glued to
the back of his closet door, tucking a snappy madras shirt
into matching red shorts, his father BLURRY behind him...
Sam turns this way and that, checking himself out, the
littlest Dapper Dan...
DAD (V.O.)
I don’t know when I first started
looking for it.
CUT TO Sam in the bathroom, combing his hair, parting it on
the left side, then trying it out on the right, his father
BLURRY in the doorway...
DAD (V.O.)
Maybe it came looking for me.
CUT TO Sam, still in the bathroom, comb now abandoned, using
his fingers to add a little height and texture...
DAD (V.O.)
I honestly don’t remember.
022212R 65.
CUT TO Sam eating his breakfast, checking over his math
homework one last time...
DAD (V.O.)
But it’s here now.
He erases something with his number 2 pencil, brushes the
pink crumbs away with the side of his hand... Just so...
DAD (V.O.)
Maybe it’s always been here.
CUT TO Sam sharpening his pencil with a little red sharpener,
then checking the tip, deciding to sharpen it some more...
DAD (V.O.)
Staring me in the face.
Sam looks up INTO CAMERA, eyes wide... Innocent...
SAM’S/OUR P.O.V.: Dad, staring back at him/us... A beat...
Then Dad cranks out a half-smile...
Reveal they’re sitting across from each other at the island
in their kitchen, a small slick space done to death in
polished concrete...
Someone crosses behind them...
It’s a WOMAN (30s), OUT OF FOCUS in the background,
confirming the existence of Dad’s wife/Sam’s mother...
DAD (V.O.)
And then I’ll start to wonder...
CUT TO Sam taking a big GULP of orange juice...
DAD (V.O.)
...who else can see it?
CUT TO Sam wiping his lips with his napkin...
DAD (V.O.)
Because they have to, right?
Refolding it...
DAD (V.O.)
I mean it’s right there.
Laying it down next to his cereal bowl...
DAD (V.O.)
Right. There.
022212R 66.
CUT TO Dad driving the Prius, eyes drawn like magnets to the
rearview mirror, watching his son in the backseat...
I see it.
DAD (V.O.)
Sam’s reading quietly, legs crossed at the knee... Just so...
I see it.
DAD (V.O.)
CUT TO the two of them on the sidewalk outside Sam’s school,
Dad crouched down to Sam’s level, hugging him good-bye...
I see you.
DAD (V.O.)
Father and son cling to each for a moment, a small island in
a flood of kids hurtling past...
DAD (V.O.)
I see you...
Dad closes his eyes, hugs his son tight...
My son...
DAD (V.O.)
Tighter than necessary...
DAD (V.O.)
My child...
The boy’s warm cheek next to his...
DAD (V.O.)
My heart...
Then Dad opens his eyes, looks over Sam’s shoulder, and sees
that mom in the maroon minivan watching them from her car...
The mom’s eyes drop to Sam... and something flickers across
her face... but we don’t know what...
DAD (V.O)
She sees you too.
Then the mom turns her head, looks elsewhere... Dad keeps his
eyes on her in case she looks back...
DAD (V.O.)
They all do.
Sam starts to pull away and Dad lets him, rising, turning to
watch him go...
022212R 67.
Everyone.
DAD (V.O.)
DAD’S P.O.V.: Sam, struggling under that enormous backpack,
falling in with the other kids, all of them struggling under
enormous backpacks, staggering up the school steps...
Then Dad looks back toward the street, back toward the mom in
the minivan... And catches her watching him again...
DAD (V.O.)
What are you looking at?
QUICKCUT TO Dad SLAPPING the palm of his hand against the
minivan window... SHOCKING us...
He’s QUIVERING with rage, SCREAMING...
DAD
WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?
The mom inside RECOILING in fear...
DAD (CONT’D)
WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT!?!
Except we can’t hear him... There’s no sound... Just his
mouth OPENING and CLOSING, lips SMACKING, flecks of spittle
SPLATTERING the car window...
CUT BACK to Dad still standing on the sidewalk, staring at
the mom in the minivan...
He hasn’t moved... That never happened...
DAD (V.O.)
Stop it... Please...
Who’s he talking to? The mom? Himself? Us?
DAD (V.O.)
Just... stop.
Almost as if she heard him (she didn’t), the mom breaks eye
contact, puts her car in gear...
We’re on Dad for a beat, then we START PULLING AWAY from the
curb, like the CAMERA’S decided to hitch a ride on the back
of the minivan...
We continue PULLING AWAY and down the street, Dad growing
smaller and smaller, receding rapidly into the distance...
The minivan keeps going, merging seamlessly into traffic, and
we HOLD ON this view off the back of the car...
022212R 68.
BEGIN MONTAGE as we continue driving, on our way to the bank
maybe... or the post office...
We watch as a series of different cars pull up close to
CAMERA and then retreat...
The various drivers COMING INTO FOCUS for a few seconds
before GROWING BLURRED again...
The whole sequence SPEEDING UP and SLOWING DOWN at random...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
My father used to drive around with
a sickle under the car seat.
(beat)
Just in case.
We see men and women...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
You might be wondering how he fit a
sickle down there.
Young and old...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
But that’s probably because you’re
thinking of a ‘scythe.’
Rich and otherwise...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
A scythe is what Father Time
carries around. With the long
handle.
Thick and thin...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
A sickle is what you see on the old
Communist flags. Crossed with a
hammer.
Angry and bored...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
A sickle is a lot smaller than a
scythe. You can fit a sickle under
your car seat.
And everything in between...
Easily.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Then we enter a tunnel...
022212R 69.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
I don’t know if my father ever
pulled it out.
The light starting to FADE behind us...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
But he said that he liked knowing
it was there.
FADING...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Just in case.
FADING...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Sometimes, when we were stopped at
a red light, he’d reach down, and
stroke the handle.
GONE. Darkness.
Jingle, jingle, jingle... Jingle, jingle, jingle...
CUT TO:
EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD - VARIOUS - DAY
Late June on a Saturday afternoon...
Overcast with a chance of rain, the threatening skies make
this down-at-the-mouth neighborhood look a lot more so...
Jingle, jingle, jingle... Jingle, jingle, jingle...
A young father struggles to get a not-so-new baby stroller up
and onto the curb...
A bunch of boys play touch football in the street, casually
alert for passing cars...
An elderly man, baggie in hand, waits patiently for his dog
to do its business on someone else’s lawn...
Jingle, jingle, jingle... Jingle, jingle, jingle...
Reveal the “Mister Pops” ice cream truck rumbling down one of
these streets, mechanical melody grinding away...
Jingle, jingle, jingle... Jingle, jingle, jingle...
This street is noticeably quieter... Less populated...
022212R 70.
For some reason it feels darker too... Grayer... More grim...
The truck comes to a seemingly random stop, idling...
Jingle, jingle, jingle... Jingle, jingle, jingle...
Shade from the trees above darkens the windshield, obscuring
our view of who’s behind the wheel...
Jingle, jingle, jiThe melody cuts out, surprising us...
Then the engine cuts out as well...
The silence is strange... pregnant...
We hear (but can’t see) a door OPEN and CLOSE at the back of
the truck... Then Pops walks around the corner...
This is a first, as we’ve never seen him outside the truck
before...
He is, as always, dressed in full uniform...
Pops crosses the empty street, coming toward us, taking his
time, finally stopping at a chest-high chain-link fence...
Looking over the fence PAST CAMERA, his face is calm (as
always) and unruffled (as always)...
POPS’S P.O.V.: Stuffed animals...
Bears, horses, penguins... Parrots, monkeys, pandas...
There’s a plastic dollhouse too, plus a stack of games in
tattered boxes and a heap of old toys and knickknacks, some
of it still bright with happy Day-Glo colors, but most of it
faded with time and use...
Everything’s been scattered (dumped) on the wooden steps of a
small gray house with peeling gray paint...
Sitting alone on the topmost step, wearing dirty yellow flip
flops and her navy blue hoodie pulled all the way down over
her knees... is Christine.
Hi.
POPS
She nods, acknowledging him, but that’s all he’s getting.
POPS (CONT’D)
I didn’t know you lived on this
street.
Another nod... Then nothing.
022212R 71.
POPS (CONT’D)
Haven’t seen you around the park.
Beat.
CHRISTINE
I’ve been busy.
POPS
That’s what they said.
Beat.
Who?
CHRISTINE
POPS
Your friends.
Oh.
CHRISTINE
Fingers digging at a cuticle CHRISTINE (CONT’D)
What else did they say?
POPS
That’s it. They just said you’d
been busy.
Yeah.
CHRISTINE
Beat.
POPS
You having a sale?
Nod.
POPS (CONT’D)
This is all yours?
Nod.
Pops gives the items on the stoop a thoughtful once-over.
POPS (CONT’D)
All of your toys...
(beat)
All your stuff...
(then)
You don’t want it anymore?
Beat.
022212R 72.
CHRISTINE
I’m too old now.
POPS
How old are you?
Thirteen.
Hm.
CHRISTINE
POPS
Pops looks up and down the street. Then POPS (CONT’D)
Pretty slow today.
Nod.
Quiet.
POPS (CONT’D)
Nod.
POPS (CONT’D)
Not too many people.
A tear slips down her cheek.
POPS (CONT’D)
Not a whole lot of customers.
She doesn’t bother to wipe it away.
POPS (CONT’D)
How long’ve you been out here?
Christine opens her mouth to reply, then shakes her head like
she doesn’t know... or can’t say...
POPS (CONT’D)
Where’s your mom?
Shrug.
POPS (CONT’D)
Is anyone here with you?
She’s crying openly now... but quiet... Keeping it quiet...
Pops cranes his neck to the side, looks up the cracked
driveway next to the house...
The Chevy Monte Carlo is parked at the back in front of the
garage. Could use a wash.
022212R 73.
POPS (CONT’D)
Somebody’s here?
She nods again, hands digging deep into her pockets, twisting
into her stomach, tears dripping off her chin...
Pops nods back and lets a moment go by... Then POPS (CONT’D)
Which one’s your favorite?
Christine slowly points to a polar bear lying a couple steps
below her. Must have been white once upon a time.
That one?
POPS (CONT’D)
Nod.
POPS (CONT’D)
What’s his name?
CHRISTINE
P... P... Paul...
POPS
Paul the Polar Bear?
Nod.
POPS (CONT’D)
I like that.
(beat)
I like him.
Nod.
POPS (CONT’D)
He’s a good boy.
Nod.
POPS (CONT’D)
He looks like a very good boy.
Nod.
CUT TO:
INT. ICE CREAM TRUCK - DAY - MINUTES LATER
We hear the truck’s back door OPEN, then Pops hoists himself
inside, breath catching, swinging the door shut behind him...
CLOSE ON Pops, taking a step or two down the aisle, still
facing the back of the truck, looking OVER CAMERA...
022212R 74.
His eyes drift left and right as he makes up his mind...
Then he lifts Paul up into frame...
Pops brushes him off a bit, then gently sets the polar bear
down somewhere PAST CAMERA...
POPS’S P.O.V.: Paul, now resting safely on the steel shelf
above the back door...
SLOWLY WIDEN OUT... then KEEP WIDENING OUT... to the zebras
and giraffes... the kittens and the puppies... the big ones
and the little ones... the ones with collars and the ones
with bows... and the ones we can’t even begin to identify...
Dozens of them... All arranged carefully on the deep shelf
running below the ceiling at the back of the truck...
Along for the ride... Keeping Pops company...
SLOW FADE OUT:
EXT. CITY - NIGHT
Random, eagle-eye shots of an urban area after dark...
From this height we see little more than LIGHTS and shadowy
outlines, occasional cars passing under street lamps...
WIDE ON a man coming toward us down a deserted street, hands
in his pockets, shoulders a little tense...
As he gets closer we realize it’s Dad, his bruise still
evident but faded a bit, giving him a vaguely rakish air...
He slows down near the entrance to what looks like a club,
glancing over his shoulder, like maybe he’s being followed...
There’s a bald guy sitting on a stool out front... Dad shows
him some ID, waits to be given the go-ahead...
Then he opens the door, steps inside...
From the relative quiet of the street we SMASHCUT TO:
INT. CLUB - NIGHT - CONTINUOUS
We’re immediately overwhelmed by the relentless THUMP THUMP
THUMP of some anonymous, lyric-less, techno beat...
It’s dim in here, the light murky and purple, random STROBES
illuminating snatches of this and that...
022212R 75.
CLOSE ON Dad as he steps toward CAMERA, edged on all sides by
darkened bodies and shifting shapes...
HOLD ON Dad as he takes in everything there is to take in...
DAD’S P.O.V.: Men... And nothing but...
Dancing their hearts out...
Younger/older, taller/shorter, and every shade of the
rainbow...
Some are bare-chested, most are sweaty, all are lost to the
music...
Dad takes a deep breath and starts working his way through
the crowd on the dance floor, looking this way and that...
As he passes, men on both sides take notice, some turning
towards him, dancing up against him as he goes by...
Dad smiles and nods and nods and smiles, not wanting to be
rude but not really stopping either... But he’s a goodlooking guy, so he’s getting some attention...
CLOSE ON Dad... Nervous... Out of his element... And starting
to sweat, bombarded by the noise and the bodies and the heat
rising from all directions...
He makes it to the other side of the dance floor, turns back
toward the crowd, bobbing his head awkwardly, trying not to
make eye contact...
But inevitably - involuntarily - his gaze SNAGS on the parade
of hands hips arms legs backs groins and mouths on display...
Blushing, Dad looks to his left, sees a long corridor leading
off the main area...
He moves in that direction, hoping to get away from the
frenzy for a moment...
WIDE ON Dad at the far end of a dark, low-ceilinged hallway,
the lights and action of the dance floor now behind him...
He pauses, then starts toward us...
He’s not alone in here... There’s a row of men lining the
wall on one side...
And the hallway’s tight, so he has to brush by them all to
get past...
DAD’S/OUR P.O.V.: A series of men, each of them turning their
head to look into the lens as he/we go by...
022212R 76.
No one smiles or says “hello,” but they’re definitely sending
out signals...
You get the sense we could take our pick...
Dad keeps going, filing by man after man after man, until he
spots the end of the line up ahead next to a closed door...
It’s painted black, with a sign on it that says “MEN”...
Oh good - the bathroom...
Coming abreast of the door, Dad turns to the guy leaning next
to it, gesturing to the long line behind them.
DAD
Excuse me... Is this really the Then he notices who’s second in line...
DAD’S P.O.V.: Sam, leaning casually against the wall with the
rest of them, wearing his snappy madras shirt and matching
red shorts...
DAD (CONT’D)
(stunned)
Sam, what... what are you doing
here?
His son shrugs, like it’s obvious.
SAM
Waiting my turn.
SMASHCUT TO Dad sitting BOLT UPRIGHT, face coming directly
TOWARD CAMERA... GASPING...
He looks around, eyes bulging, breathing hard... freaked...
Reveal he’s lying on the couch in his mid-century mod living
room, Sunday paper scattered all around, sunlight pouring in
through the windows...
Dad half-laughs to himself, slowly starting to shake the
hangover of his nightmarish nap...
SAM (O.S.) (CONT’D)
Can we go now?
He turns to the door, sees Sam looking at him expectantly.
DAD
Oh - Sam. Hey. Hey, buddy.
Can we?
SAM
022212R 77.
DAD
Can we what?
Dad...
What?
You said.
SAM
DAD
SAM
DAD
Oh... right...
(sighing)
Yeah, I don’t think he’s going to
be there, Sam...
You said -
SAM
DAD
I know but SAM
You said he would.
DAD
Yeah, but SAM
You promised.
OFF Dad, good and cornered CUT TO:
EXT. PARK - AFTERNOON - LATER
WIDE ON Dad and Sam standing side-by-side in front of the ice
cream truck, Pops in his window...
Strangely, there’s no one else around, so they’ve got Pops’s
full and undivided attention.
DAD
Alright - ice cream!
(rubbing his hands)
You excited, Sam?
Sam nods, eyes on the signage.
DAD (CONT’D)
Good... Let’s do this.
(then)
What’s it gonna be?
022212R 78.
SAM
What do they have?
DAD
I don’t know, buddy. Lots of
things...
Dad looks from the signage to Pops then back.
DAD (CONT’D)
You have any Fudgsicles?
POPS
Good afternoon.
DAD
Sorry - good afternoon. Uh... do
you have any Fudgsicles?
POPS
We sure do.
SAM
I don’t want a Fudgsicle.
DAD
Okay... How ‘bout... How ‘bout a
Drumstick?
(to Pops)
You got Drumsticks?
POPS
We got Drumsticks.
DAD
(to Sam)
They got Drumsticks!
Noooo...
SAM
DAD
You don’t like Drumsticks?
Uh-uh.
SAM
DAD
What’s wrong with Drumsticks?
Sam makes a face. Dad looks at Pops, shrugs.
DAD (CONT’D)
He doesn’t like Drumsticks.
(back to Sam)
How ‘bout a Bomb Pop? You like Bomb
Pops?
(MORE)
022212R 79.
DAD (CONT’D)
(to Pops)
I used to love Bomb Pops.
SAM
Which ones are the Bomb Pops?
Dad points to the picture on the sign.
DAD
With the stripes. The red, white,
and blue.
Sam giggles.
SAM
They make my lips red.
Me too.
POPS
Beat.
DAD
Yeah... I don’t think you should
get a Bomb Pop, okay? No Bomb Pops.
Let’s... let’s pick something else.
SAM
(to Pops)
Do you have the Push-up kind?
DAD
What’s that?
SAM
With the tube...
POPS
And the stick underneath...
SAM
And then you push it up...
POPS
And the ice cream comes out the
top...
SAM
And then you eat it.
In unison, Sam and Pops both mime the required motions for
Dad.
It’s a little... you know.
022212R 80.
(beat)
Oh...
DAD
POPS
But we’re all out. Sorry.
DAD
(relieved)
Oh... that’s too bad. Yeah. Sorry,
Sambo. No Push-ups.
(then)
So what do you want instead, huh?
You gotta make up your mind now.
I want...
SAM
DAD
We gotta make a decision here.
SAM
I want a...
DAD
Come on come on come on.
SAM
I want um...
DAD
(gesturing to Pops)
The man’s waiting.
POPS
I don’t mind.
Dad shoots Pops a look.
I want...
Sam.
I want...
Sam.
SAM
DAD
SAM
DAD
SAM
I want a Strawberry Shortcake.
Beat.
022212R 81.
DAD
What was that?
SAM
A Strawberry Shortcake.
DAD
You want a Strawberry Shortcake.
Mm-hm.
SAM
Beat.
You sure?
Uh-huh.
Positive?
Uh-huh.
DAD
SAM
DAD
SAM
DAD
Last chance to change your mind...
Sam looks up at his father, squinting a little.
DAD (CONT’D)
Okay...
(to Pops)
Apparently he wants a Strawberry
Shortcake.
POPS
A boy wants what he wants.
Dad’s eyes narrow...
He scans the other man’s face, searching for something behind
that remark...
Pops returns the look... calm... unruffled...
DAD
(beat)
Yeah... I guess so.
SAM
What are you getting, Dad?
DAD
Nothing. I’m not getting anything.
022212R 82.
POPS
You sure you don’t want one too?
DAD
No. I’m alright. I’m good. Just the
uh... just the one. Thanks.
Pops hands the ice cream out the window, giving it to Dad.
DAD (CONT’D)
Okay... Here we go...
(giving it to Sam)
One... Strawberry... Shortcake.
Sam takes a big, greedy bite as Pops gives him a wink.
POPS
Good choice.
Mmmm...
Yeah.
Mmmm...
SAM
DAD
SAM
DAD
Alright.
(to Pops)
Thanks.
They start walking away.
POPS
That’ll be two-fifty, please.
Oh. Sorry.
DAD
Dad steps back toward the truck, looking through his wallet.
DAD (CONT’D)
Two-fifty, huh? That’s uh...
That’s...
I know.
POPS
DAD
Yeah. Wow-za.
As the money changes hands POPS
You two have a nice day now.
022212R 83.
DAD
Thanks. You too.
POPS
Bye-bye, Sam!
Bye!
SAM
(waving)
POPS
See you next time!
Dad turns back, gives Pops another look. Pops just smiles,
waving again, staring after them... A beat... Then VOICE (O.S.)
I’d like an ice cream...
Pops turns his head, spots a WOMAN several yards back and off
to the side. She steps forward, allowing us a better look...
Tall. Too thin. Dark blonde hair inexpensively cut. Pretty.
Probably only in her late-30s...
But there’s hard-living around the eyes and mouth, like
somewhere along the line she pressed the “fast-forward”
button and then kept it pressed.
WOMAN
What do you have?
In a voice several degrees cooler than we’re used to, Pops
nods toward the signage, says POPS
It’s on the board.
The woman comes closer, smiling unsteadily, lugging an
enormous carryall that’s clearly seen better days, bulging
like it’s got everything she owns inside.
WOMAN
Okay... Well... uh... let’s see...
(checking out her options)
How about... How about just a plain
vanilla cone? That sounds good...
Pops disappears from the window, leaving her standing there
awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the other.
WOMAN (CONT’D)
Oh and um... could I get a wafer
cone? Please?
No response.
022212R 84.
Thanks...
WOMAN (CONT’D)
A beat... Then Pops reappears at the window with her cone.
The woman reaches for it then pauses...
It’s a vanilla ice cream in a wafer cone alright, but it’s
covered in rainbow WOMAN (CONT’D)
Sprinkles...
(suddenly shy, girlish)
You remembered...
She takes the cone from Pops, takes a bite and smiles big.
Mmmm...
WOMAN (CONT’D)
But we can tell she’s got no appetite for it.
WOMAN (CONT’D)
Mm... It’s so good... I’d
forgotten...
Instead of settling down into the window again, Pops remains
standing inside the truck, arms hanging stiffly at his sides.
WOMAN (CONT’D)
So... How are you? How’ve you been?
No response.
WOMAN (CONT’D)
You look uh... you look good...
Really good...
(beat)
And the truck looks great... Just
like I pictured... Really, really
great...
(beat)
Must be nice for you... with all
the kids... They must like seeing
you here... in the park...
Then, quietly WOMAN (CONT’D)
Billy?
(beat)
Billy, would you please... Can
you... Can you come out of there?
Can you come down for a minute? I’d
like to talk to you...
Pops doesn’t move.
022212R 85.
WOMAN (CONT’D)
I’d really like to talk to you...
(beat)
Please?
CLOSE ON Pops, considering.
CLOSE ON the woman, closer to tears than we knew.
CUT TO:
EXT. PARK - LATE AFTERNOON - MINUTES LATER
We start WIDE ON the picnic tables opposite the truck, SLOWLY
PUSHING IN over the course of the scene...
They’re sitting on the same side at the same table, both
FACING CAMERA, some space between them.
The woman’s still working on her ice cream cone, taking small
bites, the carryall at her feet.
Pops isn’t working on anything, keeping his eyes on his
hands, keeping his hands folded in his lap.
Then, like someone asked her a question (they didn’t) WOMAN
I’ve spent so much time... years...
thinking about this moment...
imagining it in my head... how it
would be when I finally got to see
you again... to be near you...
(laughing a little)
And of course it’s nothing like I
thought... of course...
Shaking her head WOMAN (CONT’D)
So stupid... You think I would’ve
realized...
(beat)
But you know in all that time...
planning what I’d say... to you...
the stuff I never got to say... the
stuff I haven’t said already... the
things that would... that would
make a difference... that you’d
understand... ‘Hey, how are you?’
is kind of as far as I ever got...
She tries for another laugh... and we wish she wouldn’t.
022212R 86.
WOMAN (CONT’D)
I just... I could never really
imagine what came after that...
Pops doesn’t nod or murmur or give any indication at all he’s
listening. Might as well be talking to a Buddha.
The woman swallows a few times, trying to get that last bit
of wafer cone down.
Anyway -
WOMAN (CONT’D)
It’s just that last little bit, caught in her throat.
WOMAN (CONT’D)
Mm... it’s... very dry...
Swallowing again WOMAN (CONT’D)
Anyway... what I’m trying to say
is... I’ve missed you... I’ve
really, really missed you...
(beat)
You and me (catching herself)
You and I... we have this... this
thing... you know? This thing
between us... And it’s like... a
connection that I don’t have with
anyone else... you know?
She swallows again, but this time it’s not the cone.
WOMAN (CONT’D)
Nobody else... understands like you
do... They don’t know...
(then)
You know I meet these me(catching herself)
these people for the first time and
it’s like, how do I get this thing
across? How do I bring you up to
speed on all of... all of this
stuff that I can’t even make me
understand let alone some guy I
meet in a bar who wants to buy me a
drink and I’m like, ‘You don’t
know... You have no idea... But
thanks for the drink... asshole...’
The tears are flowing now but she’s trying to be discreet
about it, turning her head away to wipe her eyes.
022212R 87.
WOMAN (CONT’D)
But it also... it keeps us apart,
you know? It separates us... and...
and that hurts... It really hurts
because... you’re the only one who
gets it... You’re the only one who
was there... But we can’t... it’s
so hard to um...
The woman goes to lay a hand on Pops’s arm but it falls
short, landing somewhere on the bench between them.
WOMAN (CONT’D)
I feel like I’m so alone in it...
(then)
Like we’re both so alone... you
know? And it kills me that we
can’t... that we don’t know how
to... to rescue each other, I
guess...
(beat)
Or ourselves...
She reels her hand back in, uses it to wring the other one.
WOMAN (CONT’D)
And what’s worse... what’s worse...
is that... is that sometimes I
still... I still feel so
grateful... I’m so grateful it
wasn’t me...
Pops slowly lifts his eyes... but to the hills across the
park, not to the woman sitting next to him.
WOMAN (CONT’D)
I can remember... I can remember
when... when he would... and I... I
would just... shut my door... and
go back to... whatever... doing my
homework... And I remember I would
go to bed later and close my eyes
and say my prayers and think, ‘Dear
God, I’m just glad it’s not me...
I’m just so glad it’s not me...’
Now she’s looking off toward the hills too, her eyes large
and bewildered.
WOMAN (CONT’D)
And I’m not... I mean obviously I’m
not... proud of that but... you
know... what was I supposed to do?
I was a kid... you know? We both
were...
(shrugging)
And I know that’s an explanation,
not an excuse but...
(MORE)
022212R 88.
WOMAN (CONT’D)
that’s all I’ve got... I feel like
that’s all I’ve got to hold onto...
this... this little piece of it...
this little thread...
She looks at Pops again, biting chapped lips, trying to keep
her extremely shaky shit together.
You know?
WOMAN (CONT’D)
Tenderly, like she’s talking to a child WOMAN (CONT’D)
What are you thinking, huh?
(beat)
I’d really like to know what you’re
thinking, Billy...
The woman reaches out, tentatively smooths back the hair
above Pops’s ear... then winds up smoothing down his shirt
collar as well, even though it doesn’t need it.
WOMAN (CONT’D)
Would you tell me, huh? Please?
(beat)
Would you do that for me?
CLOSE ON Pops, still not looking at her.
POPS
I’m thinking...
(beat)
I’m thinking...
(beat)
I should get back to work.
Then he’s up and off the bench...
We STAY CLOSE ON Pops, BACKING UP with him as he heads for
the truck, breathing harder than usual, eyes clouding over
with things we can’t quite make out...
And just as we see the first signs of wetness, we allow Pops
to leave frame, ending WIDE ON the tables behind him...
Where we find the GIRL (8) from the family portrait with
Father, Mom, and Son... freckled nose and long blonde hair
parted in the middle... sitting in the spot where the woman
just was... the enormous carryall at her feet...
The sun starting to set behind her...
CUT TO:
022212R 89.
INT./EXT. ICE CREAM TRUCK - DUSK - CONTINUOUS
Pops enters from the rear, agitated, dripping sweat...
He walks quickly down the aisle between the coolers to the
front of the truck, then pivots hard and starts back...
BEGIN INTERCUTTING AS NEEDED
CLOSE ON a sunny patch of grass... then an avalanche of
baseballs comes spilling down onto it from above frame...
Pops thunders back down the aisle TOWARD CAMERA, then pivots
hard again and heads back toward the front...
Rolling and scattering in all directions...
Ricocheting from one end of the truck to the other...
Some look new, some look used, some are literally coming
apart at the seams...
He’s like a pinball in a machine... Like a fish in a bag...
PAN UP from the baseballs to Father, shaking out that red
canvas bag, making sure all the balls are out...
Pops comes to a sudden stop next to the open service
window... He leans over, slides it shut with a BANG...
Father squats down, selects a ball from the pile... then he
rises, looking O.S...
FATHER’S P.O.V.: Son, watching him quietly...
FATHER (O.S.)
Whenever you’re ready.
Pops lumbers to the front of the truck, sits down heavily in
the driver’s seat...
Son backs AWAY FROM CAMERA, keeping his eyes on Father...
Pops snatches the key down from the visor, puts it in the
ignition, turns it...
Son comes to a stop on the far side of the clearing... he
picks up his glove, works it over his hand...
Pops finds the emergency brake, releases it...
WE’RE IN A DARKENED BEDROOM, CRACKS OF MOONLIGHT COMING IN
THROUGH CLOSED BLINDS... WE PAN PAST BARE WALLS AND EMPTY
SHELVES TO A SMALL WOODEN BED, NEATLY MADE...
Son spreads his feet apart, assumes the position...
022212R 90.
Pops puts the truck in “drive,” starts spinning the wheel...
CHRISTINE’S SITTING UP IN BED, ARMS AROUND HER KNEES, ROCKING
BACK AND FORTH IN HER NAVY BLUE SWEATSHIRT...
Father rolls his neck around, gazing across the clearing...
Pops steers the truck into traffic, away from the park...
ROCKING WITH HER HEAD DOWN, HUMMING QUIETLY... UNTIL SHE
HEARS A NOISE OUT IN THE HALL... THEN SHE LIFTS HER HEAD...
How young Father is... only 31... still blonde, handsome...
he could pass for a college student... except for those lines
slashing their way down the corners of his mouth...
For the first time, we see him speak ON-CAMERA...
FATHER (CONT’D)
Alright. Let’s see what you got.
The truck barrels down the street, picking up momentum...
CLOSE ON CHRISTINE AS SHE LOOKS UP INTO CAMERA, MOUTH GOING
TENSE AND TIGHT...
Father sets his feet... winds back... and sends the ball
sailing across the clearing...
CHRISTINE’S P.O.V.: THE DOOR TO HER BEDROOM, DIRECTLY
OPPOSITE THE BED... IT’S CLOSED... FOR NOW...
Pops makes a hard right, the truck swaying to the left...
CLOSE ON A DOORKNOB AS A MAN’S HAND ENTERS FRAME, FINGERS
SLIPPING AROUND IT, CARESSING THE BRASS...
The ball slaps into Son’s glove, almost bouncing free... but
he manages to hold onto it... barely...
Pops rights the truck, then floors it again...
THE HAND WAITS A BEAT... THEN STARTS TURNING THE KNOB...
Son flings the ball back across the clearing... where it
lands well shy of Father...
CLOSE ON Pops, speeding along, staring straight ahead...
Father leans down, picks up another ball from the pile...
FATHER (CONT’D)
Let’s try that again.
THE KNOB STOPS TURNING...
022212R 91.
Father checks his grip... winds back... and WHIPS it...
CLOSE ON Pops, his eyes dark and unblinking...
THE HAND TRIES THE KNOB AGAIN... AND AGAIN... BUT IT WON’T
TURN... IT’S LOCKED FROM THE INSIDE...
The ball sizzles through the air... Son puts his glove up
quickly... more to block it than to catch it...
CLOSE ON CHRISTINE... BEGINNING TO CRY...
The ball smacks into Son’s wrist then bounces off and away...
CLOSE ON Pops... both here and not here...
Father shakes his head... sighs...
CLOSE ON CHRISTINE... BEGINNING TO SOB...
Father picks up another baseball, wipes his brow...
FATHER (CONT’D)
We’ll try it again.
CLOSE ON Pops... both there and not there...
Son rubs his wrist, getting ready for the next throw...
CLOSE ON THE DOORKNOB, SHAKING LIKE IT’S ABOUT TO POP OFF...
Another ball comes streaking into Son’s glove... so fast he’s
got to take his hand out to shake off the sting...
WIDE ON HER BEDROOM DOOR... RATTLING IN ITS FRAME...
Son hurls the ball back across the clearing...
CLOSE ON CHRISTINE, CRAMMING HERSELF FLAT AGAINST THE
HEADBOARD... GETTING AS FAR AWAY FROM THE DOOR AS SHE CAN...
Son watches in dismay as it sails wide... landing in the
bushes off to Father’s right...
WIDE ON HER BEDROOM DOOR... THUNDERING IN ITS FRAME...
Father picks up another ball... winds back... and WHIPS it...
IT SOUNDS LIKE SOMEONE’S HURLING THEMSELVES AGAINST THE DOOR
FROM THE OTHER SIDE...
Another ball comes whistling past the lens... smacking into
Son’s glove... making him stumble backwards...
CLOSE ON CHRISTINE, FLINCHING WITH EACH IMPACT...
022212R 92.
We watch another ball go wide... landing in the shrubs off to
Father’s left...
CLOSE ON HER HANDS, CLAWING INTO THE SHEETS...
Father winds back... and WHIPS it...
CLOSE ON CHRISTINE, STILL FORCING HERSELF BACKWARDS... NOW
STARTING TO SLIDE UP THE HEADBOARD BEHIND HER...
Son fumbles the catch...
HIGHER...
Then another one...
HIGHER...
Then another one...
HIGHER...
Then another one...
HIGHER...
Then another one...
AND HIGHER... UNTIL SHE’S LEANING AGAINST THE WALL ABOVE THE
HEADBOARD... STANDING UP ON THE BED...
Now Father picks up several balls at once...
FATHER (CONT’D)
Come on, son...
He winds back... WHIPS it... and then begins moving across
the clearing, closing the distance between them...
CLOSE ON CHRISTINE’S FEET PUSHING DOWN INTO HER PILLOW...
Come on.
FATHER (CONT’D)
Moving in... WHIPPING it...
THEN HER FEET LEAVE THE BED ENTIRELY... FIRST ONE AND THEN
THE OTHER... DISAPPEARING UP AND OUT OF FRAME...
Come on.
FATHER (CONT’D)
Moving in... WHIPPING it...
WIDE ON CHRISTINE AS SHE INCHES HER WAY UP THE WALL ABOVE THE
BED... UNTIL SHE’S STANDING ON TOP OF THE HEADBOARD...
022212R 93.
Come on.
FATHER (CONT’D)
Moving in... WHIPPING it...
CLOSE ON HER FEET AS THEY LEAVE THE HEADBOARD BEHIND, FIRST
ONE AND THEN THE OTHER... DISAPPEARING UP AND OUT OF FRAME...
Come on.
FATHER (CONT’D)
Moving in... WHIPPING it...
WIDE ON CHRISTINE AS SHE STARTS SLIDING UP THE WALL ABOVE THE
BED... SHUDDERING AND TWISTING...
The next ball clips Son in the shoulder...
BODY WRENCHING AND WRITHING...
The next one knocks his glove up into his face...
SPASMING UP TOWARD THE CEILING...
A floor lamp FLICKS on, casting a dim radius of light in a
boy’s bedroom, unchanged since 1980...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
I’ve been meaning to ask...
Another ball comes streaking into frame... Son throws his
arms up in front of him...
CLOSE ON a frameless mirror glued to the back of the closet
door... Then Pops emerges from the shadows, dressed only in
his boxers, belly gleaming white against the dark...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
And I promise not to tell...
Then Son takes a hit to the chest...
CURLING HERSELF INTO A BALL... JAMMING HERSELF INTO THAT
LITTLE SPACE WHERE THE WALL MEETS THE CEILING...
Pops stares at himself in the mirror, absently running a hand
over his stomach...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
But just between us...
Gasping and sobbing, Son turns away from the clearing... away
from Father...
WIDE ON Pops’s sister lugging that enormous carryall toward
the bus stop... She looks over her shoulder, waves...
022212R 94.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Were you there?
Then Son takes a hit between the shoulder blades...
WIDE ON the bus pulling up next to her at the curb...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Did you see?
Stumbling and weaving, Son puts his hands up again...
Once she’s inside, the doors close with a wheeze...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Did you hear?
A ball goes sailing past his head... missing by inches...
CHRISTINE IS GOING OUT OF HER MIND...
But the next is a direct hit... to the back of the skull...
AND COMING OUT OF HER SKIN...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Did you know?
WIDE ON Girl One and Girl Two sitting up in the bleachers...
Son pitches forward...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
What did you do?
The girls CACKLE, falling over themselves with laughter...
And lands roughly in the grass...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
What did you do?
THE BEDROOM DOOR FINALLY GIVES WAY, A BEAM OF LIGHT FALLING
ACROSS THE CEILING AND ACROSS CHRISTINE’S FACE...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
What did you do?
SHE OPENS HER EYES...
Son bounces a few times then lies still...
AND HOWLS...
CLOSE ON Pops, getting up next to the mirror, coming eye-toeye with his own reflection...
022212R 95.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Tell the truth.
CLOSE ON Son, mouth loose, eyelids fluttering...
CLOSE ON Pops, face slack, breath fogging the glass...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Where you there?
CLOSE ON Son, the image going IN AND OUT OF FOCUS...
CLOSE ON Pops, putting a hand up to the skin below one eye...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
What a coincidence...
Gently, Pops starts pulling the skin down with his fingers,
exposing the red beneath the white...
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Neither was I.
CUT TO BLACK
Beat.
Beat.
Beat.
INT./EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD BODEGA - NIGHT
Reveal a neon-lit, low-rent establishment selling smokes,
beer, and hotdogs fresh off the roller grill...
A sandy-haired STRANGER (early 40s) waits at the counter.
He’s scruffy. Average-looking. Unremarkable in every way.
STRANGER
Could I get um... two ‘Triple
Plays’ and three of the ‘Jumbo
Bills’ and a... a couple of the
‘Gold & Silver’...
(beat)
Please.
That it?
BODEGA EMPLOYEE (O.S.)
STRANGER
Oh - and lemme get a ‘Bonanza
Bills’ too...
BODEGA EMPLOYEE (O.S.)
Just the one?
022212R 96.
STRANGER
Yeah, just one...
(snorting)
It’s expensive, man...
Mm-hm.
BODEGA EMPLOYEE (O.S.)
The bodega employee (still O.S.) slides the stack of lotto
tickets across the counter to him.
STRANGER
Thanks...
(then)
Oh and uh The stranger steps to his right, plucks a six-pack of roses
wrapped in plastic from a filthy white bucket.
STRANGER (CONT’D)
And this too...
Then he starts digging through his wallet for bills.
CUT TO the stranger exiting the store, first holding the door
open for a little OLD LADY coming in from the street.
Thank you.
OLD LADY
STRANGER
No problem...
CUT TO the stranger stepping outside, tickets in one hand,
roses in the other... He starts down the block, using a coin
to scratch the first ticket, careful not to crush the flowers
as he does so...
CUT TO the stranger much farther down the block now... No one
else around... The lights of the bodega receding behind
him... He ambles along, brow furrowed, working on his lottery
tickets, hopeful today might be his lucky day...
BEGIN INTERCUTTING AS NEEDED
WE’RE ON A MAN’S BACK IN A DARKENED LIVING ROOM... HE’S ON
THE COUCH IN FRONT OF HIS WIDESCREEN, WATCHING THE GAME...
The stranger steps off the curb, eyes on his tickets...
WE’RE ON A MAN’S BACK IN A DARKENED KITCHEN... HE’S SITTING
AT THE TABLE, READING HIS NEWSPAPER...
The stranger crosses the street, the Chevy Monte Carlo ahead
of him... He gets to the car, pulls out his keys, and is
suddenly illuminated from the right...
022212R 97.
THE MAN IN THE LIVING ROOM SITS UP STRAIGHT...
THE MAN IN THE KITCHEN SITS UP STRAIGHT...
It takes less than a second for the stranger to pass under
both sets of wheels... Then he’s spat out the back of the
truck in a spray of blood, petals, and lottery tickets...
THE MAN IN THE LIVING ROOM STARTS LOOKING OVER HIS SHOULDER,
LIKE HE JUST HEARD SOMETHING...
THE MAN IN THE KITCHEN STARTS LOOKING OVER HIS SHOULDER, LIKE
HE JUST HEARD SOMETHING...
The stranger rolls over a few times, coming to rest on his
back in the middle of the street, face to the night sky...
THE MAN IN THE LIVING ROOM TURNS AROUND TO FACE CAMERA,
LOOKING ALARMED... IT’S DAD...
WIDE ON the stranger lying motionless on the asphalt... O.S.,
we hear someone silence the truck’s engine...
BEFORE WE CAN IDENTIFY HIM, THE MAN IN THE KITCHEN EXITS
FRAME...
The stranger shakes and twitches, still alive despite massive
trauma... Sensing someone next to him, he lets his eyes drift
over... And sees Pops looking down at him...
CLOSE ON Pops... This is not the face of a vigilante or an
avenging angel... This is the face of a man suddenly on the
verge of tears...
THE MAN FROM THE KITCHEN PAUSES AT THE END OF A NARROW
HALLWAY... IT’S STILL TOO DARK TO MAKE OUT HIS FACE...
Pops squats down next to the stranger...
THE MAN COMES TOWARD US, STOPPING AT A CLOSED DOOR...
CLOSE ON the stranger, staring up at the giant man now
kneeling beside him...
THE MAN OPENS THE DOOR... AND BY THE LIGHT FROM THE HALL WE
SEE A BOY’S BEDROOM, UNCHANGED SINCE 1980...
Bloody and bruised, the stranger smiles...
WE PAN UP FROM THE CARPET TO THE MAN STANDING IN THE DOORWAY,
FINALLY GETTING A GOOD LOOK AT HIM...
Son?
FATHER
CLOSE ON the stranger...
022212R 98.
Billy?
STRANGER
ALIVE AND WELL AND NOW INTO HIS 60s, FATHER SQUINTS BEHIND
THICK GLASSES, PEERING INTO POPS’S SHADOWY BEDROOM...
Son?
FATHER
CLOSE ON the stranger...
Billy...
STRANGER
CLOSE ON Pops, smiling back...
A FLASH OF SON’S 13TH BIRTHDAY PARTY, SON SITTING AT THE CARD
TABLE EATING A HUGE SLICE OF CAKE...
STRANGER (CONT’D)
It’s you... isn’t it...
CLOSE ON Pops, looking down at the stranger... Only now does
he slip the white paper hat off his head...
A FLASH OF SON’S 13TH BIRTHDAY PARTY, THIS TIME PANNING OVER
TO SETH SITTING BESIDE HIM...
Pops takes the stranger’s hand... but delicately, not wanting
to cause additional pain if he can help it...
POPS
Yes, Seth... It’s me.
(beat)
It’s Billy.
A FLASH OF SETH SITTING IN THE DIRT BY THE POND, HOLDING HIS
ELBOW AND FIGHTING TEARS, SON KNEELING BESIDE HIM...
WIDE ON the two men in the street, one holding the other’s
hand, the pool of blood spreading this way and that...
LOOKING WORRIED AND CONFUSED, DAD GETS UP OFF THE COUCH,
HEADING FOR THE FRONT DOOR...
LOOKING WORRIED AND CONFUSED, FATHER WALKS DOWN THE HALLWAY,
HEADING FOR THE FRONT DOOR...
CLOSE ON Seth, twitching a little less as night closes in...
DAD OPENS HIS FRONT DOOR AND STEPS INTO THE STREET...
FATHER OPENS HIS FRONT DOOR AND STEPS INTO THE STREET...
CLOSE ON Pops, silently saying good-bye...
CUT TO AN ASIAN FATHER OPENING HIS FRONT DOOR...
022212R 99.
CUT TO A BLACK FATHER OPENING HIS FRONT DOOR...
CUT TO A WHITE FATHER OPENING HIS FRONT DOOR...
CUT TO A LATINO FATHER OPENING HIS FRONT DOOR...
CLOSE ON Seth, eyes losing focus, last breath leaking out...
CUT TO ANOTHER FATHER AND ANOTHER FATHER AND ANOTHER
FATHER...
ALL LOOKING WORRIED AND CONFUSED...
ALL OPENING THEIR FRONT DOORS AND STEPPING INTO THE STREET...
WIDE ON Pops and Seth... alone... together...
WIDE ON DOZENS OF FATHERS... WANDERING AROUND IN THE DARK...
YOUNGER/OLDER, TALLER/SHORTER, AND EVERY SHADE OF THE
RAINBOW...
SILENTLY LOOKING AROUND AND AT EACH OTHER...
ALERT AND ALARMED BUT WITH NO IDEA WHY...
START PULLING BACK from Pops and Seth, giving them some
privacy...
WIDE ON DAD AND FATHER, MILLING ABOUT IN THE STREET WITH THE
OTHER MEN... THEY SPOT EACH OTHER FROM A DISTANCE... LOCK
EYES... AND FIND THEMSELVES UNABLE TO LOOK AWAY...
PULL FARTHER and FARTHER back from Pops and Seth... until
they’re no more than the atoms they are...
Then SLOWLY FADE TO BLACK
Beat.
Beat.
Beat.
Dad?
SAM (V.O.)
(whispering)
INT. DAD’S HOUSE - BEDROOM - MORNING
CLOSE ON Dad, eyes closed, face half-buried in the pillow.
Dad.
SAM (O.S.)
022212R 100.
Dad blinks, cracks one eye.
DAD’S P.O.V.: Sam, face just inches away, looking positively
gleeful. When Dad speaks his voice is a croak.
Whaaaat...
DAD
SAM
(still whispering)
I grew.
DAD
What are you talkin’ about?
I grew.
SAM
Dad closes his eyes, pretends like he’s going back to sleep.
DAD
No, you didn’t.
Uh-huh.
Nu-uh.
I did!
SAM
DAD
SAM
DAD
Nope. Didn’t happen.
Come see!
SAM
DAD
Nope. Nope nope nope...
Sam GRABS his father’s arm, tries to TUG him out of bed.
SAM
Come and see!
DAD
Nuuuuhhhh...
SAM
(running out of the room)
Come ON!
Dad sighs and sits up, puts his feet on the floor. Only when
he leaves frame do we see there’s someone else in the bed...
022212R 101.
It’s the WOMAN we (kind of) saw earlier - Dad’s wife/Sam’s
mother - sleeping peacefully, lying with her back to us...
CUT TO Sam THUMPING down the hall, stopping in the doorway to
the kitchen...
On one side of the door frame (painted white) we see tiny
horizontal lines starting down low and then rising to about 3
feet and change, tracking Sam’s growth in Magic Marker.
Sam leans up straight against the lines, standing rigidly
erect. Then he looks back down the empty hall.
SAM (CONT’D)
COME ON! COME AND SEE!
A beat, then Dad appears at the other end, still half-asleep.
DAD
Nothing to see...
SAM
Yes! I GREW!
DAD
I’m telling you, Sam, you didn’t.
Hate to break it to you, buddy...
See?
SAM
Sam makes himself tall as his father approaches.
See?
SAM (CONT’D)
Hands on his hips, Dad cocks his head, playing skeptical.
Hm...
I did.
DAD
SAM
DAD
I don’t know...
He leans over, checking the lines, Sam holding very still.
DAD (CONT’D)
I don’t know, Sam...
CLOSE ON the lines. It does look like Sam has moved past the
one at the top.
022212R 102.
DAD (CONT’D)
(dragging it out)
Hm...
Dad...
SAM
DAD
Hmmmmmmmm...
Dad!
SAM
DAD
(beat)
Too bad we don’t have any markers.
Sam immediately holds one out, grinning, totally prepared.
Dad smiles and takes it, puts one hand on top of Sam’s head,
flattening it out so it’s level with the frame behind him.
CLOSE ON Sam, holding his breath while his father makes a new
line on the door frame next to the top of his head.
DAD (CONT’D)
You are gettin’ too big.
SAM
No, I’m not...
DAD
Yes, you are. You are gettin’ too
big, young man...
Giggling, Sam pulls away from the door frame, turning around
to inspect the new line.
No...
SAM
Dad puts his arm around his son and they both take a moment
to admire the mark, impressed. Then DAD
I don’t know what I’m gonna do...
Sam laughs as Dad steps around behind him, both of them
knowing exactly what comes next...
DAD (CONT’D)
I don’t know what I’m gonna do
about it...
SAM
No... You can’t...
022212R 103.
Putting his hands on his son’s shoulders DAD
I don’t have a choice...
You can’t!
SAM
DAD
I don’t have a choice, buddy...
No!
SAM
Going up on his tiptoes, Dad begins pressing down...
DAD
Nothin’ to it but to do it.
NO!
SAM
Just hard enough to start squashing him...
DAD
Get down, you...
Stop!
SAM
Dad GRUNTS and GROANS, milking it...
DAD
GEEEETTTT... DOOOOWWWWNNNN...
SAM
You can’t! YOU CAN’T!
DAD
Mm-hm... MM-HMMMMMMMM...
Now he puts both hands on top of Sam’s head...
DAD (CONT’D)
Get down, you...
SAM
You can’t make me!
DAD
But you’re gettin’ too big,
Sammy...
SAM
It’s not working!
022212R 104.
DAD
You’re gettin’ too big...
Cracking up, loving it, Sam STRUGGLES mightily... But, bit by
bit, inch by inch, his father gently pushes him down lower...
DAD (CONT’D)
Here we go...
And lower...
SAM
You can’t! YOU CAN’T!
And lower...
DAD
HERE WE GO...
Until the boy’s finally down below frame...
SAM (O.S.)
You can’t make me!
Out of sight.
SAM (O.S.)(CONT’D)
YOU CAN’T MAKE ME!
DAD
Too late, buddy...
(laughing)
Too... late...
CUT TO BLACK