Wednesday, May 18, 2011

A Fourth Public Service Announcement from The Justice Trio



INT. FORTRESS OF JUSTICE’S LIVING ROOM – DAY

SquidJew and Killman 3000 stiffly sit on a couch in the Fortress of Justice’s living room. It is a ratty, run-down room. The carpet is ripped in places, the couch is puke-green and looks like it’s fresh from a charity shop. On the walls are a series of terrible paintings depicting weeping clowns.

Behind the couch and to the right, there is an opening in the wall that leads to the kitchen--not so much a doorway or entrance way, more like someone has taken a sledgehammer to the wall and approximated what a doorway should look like.

Throughout the scene, rats can be heard squeaking in the background.

DIRECTOR (O.S.)
Okay, so for zis announcement, I vant you both to be natural, and pleasant, ja? Nothing like the others, please.

SQUIDJEW
This is totally natural. This is how I usually sit.

Killman SNICKERS and CRACKS his neck.

KILLMAN 3000
Hey, before we begin, what happened to the other director? We were told he was going to be on set.

DIRECTOR (O.S.)
Vaht zis mean?

The DIRECTOR’S ASSISTANT, 29, a young, slim, voluptuous blonde-haired woman, TRANSLATES for the Director.

SQUIDJEW
Hey, Fraulein, how about you and me go out for drinks after this?

DIRECTOR’S ASSISTANT (O.S.)
Nein, Mollusk Semite. Focus on the scene, please.

DIRECTOR (O.S.)
Ze previous director broke his contract and set it on fire in ze producer’s studio after being told he would be working with you two again.

He CLAPS his hands (os).

DIRECTOR (O.S., CONT’D)
Zere vill be quiet on ze set, or I will have you all fired, union contracts or not.

The PRODUCTION CREW continues talking and LAUGHING (os).

The Director CLEARS his throat (os).

DIRECTOR (O.S.)
          (shouting)
If zat does not convince you to stop ze talking, I vill have you all vork on my next film.

Absolute silence.

DIRECTOR (O.S.)
Gut. Camera roll.

CAMERA MAN (O.S.)
Video rolling.

DIRECTOR (O.S.)
Gut. Sound roll.

SOUND TECH (O.S.)
Sound rolling.

The Director’s Assistant walked in front of the camera holding a clapper. SquidJew grins and winks at her, points with his fingers and winks again.

She ignores him.

DIRECTOR’S ASSISTANT

She CLAPS the clapper and walks off-screen.

SQUIDJEW
I’ll show you licking.

KILLMAN
I’m going to puke all over you.

DIRECTOR (O.S.)
Silence. Action.

SquidJew CLEARS his throat and shifts in the couch. He stiffly turns to Killman, Killman stiffly turns to him.

So, SquidJew, of The Justice Trio, I wonder what Agent, the nemesis of our fine triad, is going to—
He turns to the camera.

KILLMAN (CONT’D)
Oh, hi. I did not see you come in.

SquidJew turns to the camera.

SQUIDJEW
Neither. Did I? Neither did I. You are very sneaky. You could be a supervillain, like that.

KILLMAN
Ha.

SQUIDJEW
Ha. No, but seriously, we were just talking about superhero stuff that is very serious.

KILLMAN
Say, SquidJew. You know what I was reading last night?

SQUIDJEW
Nothing. Because you can’t read. You can’t afford to buy a book. Bam, motherfucker! Owned you!

DIRECTOR (O.S.)
          (shouting)
Nein! Cut ze roll and silence the microphone device.

SQUIDJEW
He doesn’t sound happy.

Killman rubs his temples.

KILLMAN
You idiot.

The Director stalks into the camera’s view. He is a tall, reedy man. He wears nothing but black, wears sunglasses, and has two more pairs around his neck. Cigarettes are crammed into the bill of his black fedora.

He moves as if he is on the verge of toppling over. He points at SquidJew and leans over him, looming like a very drugged-out cloud.

DIRECTOR
Mollusk Juden, you do not do zis. Zis is not in ze script.

SQUIDJEW
But ze--er, the last guy let us riff on the script.

DIRECTOR
Do you have ze retardation, Mollusk? Do I look like weakling director zat you push around? Nein, I do not.

The Director takes a cigarette out of his hat brim, a lighter out of his trouser pocket, and lights it. He lets it dangle perilously out of his mouth.

DIRECTOR (CONT’D)
I am not ze won who you push around. I vill push back. I vill make you, how you Americans say? Ah yes, I vill make you cry like little bitch.

SQUIDJEW
That’s kind of--

DIRECTOR
You know vaht actors are?

KILLMAN
Don’t answer him, SquidJew. He’s leading you into a trap and you’re not smart enough to get out of it.

The director turns to Killman, takes the cigarette out of his mouth, and holds it very close to Killman’s right eye.

DIRECTOR
Nein, you vill not speak. Zis is not between ze two of us. If you do, I vill burn out ze eye, ja?

Killman GULPS and nods.

DIRECTOR
Gut. Now. Mollusk. Do ve have understanding, or vill I must be burning your eyes?

SQUIDJEW
Nah man, I got ya. You don’t dig on improv.

DIRECTOR
Ja. Ze script is flawless.

He takes a quick puff of the cigarette and then snuffs it out on the floor and kicks it OS. He CLAPS his hands and walks OS.

DIRECTOR (O.S.)
Gut. Zere vill be quiet on ze set, and zen ze camera vill be rolling.

CAMERA MAN (O.S.)
Film roll.
DIRECTOR (O.S.)
Sound roll.

SOUND TECH (O.S.)
Sound roll.

The Director’s Assistant walks in front of the camera with the clapper.

DIRECTOR’S ASSISTANT
Ze public service announcement for ze cessation of licking of power outlets. Second take.

She walks off screen.

DIRECTOR (O.S.)
Action.

Killman and SquidJew both mouth (MOS) “one, two.”

KILLMAN
So, SquidJew, of The Justice Trio, I wonder what Agent, the nemesis of our fine triad, is going to—
He turns to the camera.

KILLMAN (CONT’D)
Oh, hi. I did not see you come in.

SquidJew turns to the camera.

SQUIDJEW
Neither. Did I? Neither did I. You are very sneaky. You could be a supervillain, like that.

KILLMAN
Ha.

SQUIDJEW
Ha. No, but seriously, we were just talking about superhero stuff that is very serious.

KILLMAN
Say, SquidJew. You know what I was reading last night?

SQUIDJEW
You can’t r--

SquidJew tics. His head twitches to the left.

SQUIDJEW
--eally expect me to know that, can you?

KILLMAN
No, I suppose not. I was reading--

He holds up a small book with a blue cover.

INSERT BOOK

which reads

HOW NOT TO LICK OUTLETS: A GUIDE

KILLMAN (O.S.)
How Not To Lick Outlets: A Guide.

SquidJew takes the book and FLIPS through it. As it is a very short book, this takes all of two seconds.

SQUIDJEW
Wow, this sure does seem like a good thing to read.

KILLMAN
Yes. Did you know that over seven thousand Americans die a month because they lick power outlets?

SquidJew tilts his head.

SQUIDJEW
Seven thou--?
     
He CLEARS his throat.

SQUIDJEW (CONT’D)
No. I did not know that. Gosh, you’d think it would be common sense to not lick a fu--er. I’m shocked.

KILLMAN
Yes. I know. Me too. That’s why I recommend that everyone read How Not To Lick Outlets: A Guide.

BOTH
It might just save your life.

They point at the camera.

DIRECTOR (O.S.)
Cut. Ja. Zat might be enough. Ve can alvways replace dialogue in post.

KILLMAN
I’m sorry, repeat dialogue?

DIRECTOR (O.S.)
Ja. Ze two of you are awkward. It is terrible. Ve vill hire other actors to record dialogue.

SQUIDJEW
But you’re the director, man. It’s your job to get a performance out of actors. That’s why you’re hired.

A CLATTER (os).

SQUIDJEW
Oh shit.

The Director stalks on camera.

DIRECTOR
I vill not be told how to direct by a subhuman actor! Scum!

CREW MEMBER #1 (O.S.)
Shut the camera off, shut the camera off.

The director pulls out another cigarette and lights it. He holds it over SquidJew.

DIRECTOR
           (shouting)
Have you felt vaht it is to burn, Mollusk?

The Director’s Assistant rushes on screen and pulls the Director away as SquidJew WHINES and slaps at the air.

Screen turns to static.

FADE OUT

In Which I’m Getting Really Tired of All This Shit


I walked out of Coffee and Corks about half an hour later. It had started misting outside—the sort of rain that just liked to remind you that it could rain if it really wanted to, but felt that simply annoying everyone wearing glasses would suffice. I grimaced. I hadn’t brought my handkerchief down to town. I’d be half-blind through the full walk.
I tried to pop the collar on my pea coat, failed, tried again, failed again, and kept walking and repeating.
As I walked through the Buttermarket and passed the Cathedral Gates, I heard someone clear their throat to my right side. “Stalker,” I said, “what do you need?”
“Oh,” said a decidedly un-Stalker voice, “I don’t need anything, dear chap. I would, however, like the time.”
“What?” I stopped and looked over. Standing there, holding a thin, yet incredibly classy, black umbrella was a tall, thin man with a pencil mustache wearing a black three-piece suit and a bowler cap. “Oh for Christ’s sake,” I continued. “Not again.”
“Hold still, would you? Only take a second.”
In a blur, the man whipped out a hyperdermic syringe and jabbed it through my both my pea coat and my shirt, nailing my vein on the spot. He pushed in the stopper and I felt the woozy immediately. “Yer good youknowthat?”
“Terribly sorry,” he said, catching me as I fell and cleaning the needle while still holding the umbrella. (This might have happened in a chain of events. I don’t know. I can’t imagine that I was in any way a reputable witness during that time.) “Couldn’t understand a word you said. Seems you came down with a bit of vertigo, what? Better take care of you.”
Another person wobbled into my field of vision, and I saw him turn into not one person, but five continuously morphing and mutating individuals. The five of him blurred into one another, eventually stacking and then changing into a rough approximation of what a seven foot-tall horribly mutated man would look like through a fish-eye lens. I didn’t hear what he said, but the bowler-hat individual certainly turned him away.
And that’s when I blacked out, but not before thinking that I was really tired of all of this bullshit.