#flashscript

New Post has been published on http://stumentha.com/good-shepherd/

The Good Shepherd

INT. CORPORATE OFFICE – DAY

RACHAEL: I’m glad you could come in today Patrick. Now, Patrick. I need to talk to you about your behaviour in the office. There have been several complaints from the female staff, and even a couple of the male staff mind you, about sexual harassment.

PATRICK: But I didn’t. I would never. I really never…

RACHAEL: No, no Patrick. You see, that’s the problem. You’re a good looking man. Everyone sees it. You have a lot going for you. You’re smart, driven, healthy… glowing skin, and yet you haven’t attempted a single sexual advance on another colleague. Now, explain yourself.

PATRICK: I… I thought it would be inappropriate.

RACHAEL: Define inappropriate.

PATRICK: The unwanted social behaviour distinguished by…

RACHAEL: There are several women who have come into my office in tears saying that you won’t even slap them on the arse as they walk by through the hall.

PATRICK: It’s politically incorrect.

RACHAEL: You have so much to learn. So much to learn. Dear dear Patrick. The second issue is that I don’t have your pay check this week. In fact, I might never have it. But Patrick, maybe there’s another way, the chief executive officer, me, can pay you for all your hard work.

PATRICK: Oh, but, I…

Rachael gets up from her desk and slowly moves around it over to Patrick’s side like a lioness stalking her prey.

RACHAEL: Remember that visualisation seminar I paid for last month, for the staff? Remember that? How to take visual holidays, in your mind, to help you relax. To free yourself of stress. To improve productivity.

(now behind him, massaging his shoulders seductively)

Imagine a field, a Welsh field. Yes, close your eyes now Patrick. You’re in a field in Wales. The sky is dark and grey, but slowly clearing up. The sun is poking through a hole. In the sky. You are a shepherd, Patrick. Imagine! Yes, there you are, a Welsh shepherd. Yes I’m here too. I can see you now. With your staff, upright. And I’m a little wooly lamb in the meadow. Baaaaa… Baaaaa… We can’t help ourselves Patrick. We’re just animals aren’t we?

Rachael moves around in front of Patrick now, and crawls onto his lap.

PATRICK: Oh Rachael! Yes! Yes! Yes!

They kiss passionately. Hands going everywhere.

RACHAEL: Call me your dirty little lambchop!

PATRICK: Oh Rachael! My dirty little lambchop!

Rachael suddenly stops, stands up in front of Patrick, realigns her suit and straightens her hair.

RACHAEL: (stern, composed) Right. That’s quite enough.

She returns to her seat behind the desk as Patrick watches confused.

RACHAEL: I’m afraid you have failed the sexual harassment in the work place test. I had such high hopes for you Patrick. Such high hopes.

Patrick exits the room, his head low.

New Post has been published on http://stumentha.com/think-about-the-kids/

Think About The Kids

[EXT. COUNTRY ESTATE, LATE 1700s ENGLAND – DAY]

MR. DARCY: Oh, Elizabeth, I do ever so much look forward to spending our days together.

ELIZABETH: Yes, I too feel a sense of general anticipation, Mr. Darcy.

MR. DARCY: And to think, it nearly didn’t come to be. With you fraternising with that horrid Mr. Wickham.

ELIZABETH: Horrid man.

MR. DARCY: Yes, horrid. He was only after one thing. What I’m saying is, I’m very glad indeed that we found each other. Two pure-hearted souls on this road together, in life.

ELIZABETH: Quite the poet aren’t you, Mr. Darcy?

MR. DARCY: I am now. Now that I’ve met you Elizabeth. The stars shine brighter, the grass smells grassier, the … clouds appear … cloudier?

ELIZABETH: Practice makes good work of it, doesn’t it?

MR. DARCY: I feel like I’m a poet, when I’m with you. To think that you have accepted my hand in marriage, it sends shivers of excitement down my spine.

ELIZABETH: Yes, Mr. Darcy.

MR. DARCY: Yes? How do I say this, Elizabeth? I am feeling quite encouraged. By your … femininity.

ELIZABETH: Mr. Darcy, there is something I need to tell you.

MR. DARCY: What is it, my love?

ELIZABETH: Promise me you won’t get terribly angry.

MR. DARCY: I will certainly try, but may I also be candid with you? This exchange is unexpected. Elizabeth, whatever could be wrong?

ELIZABETH: I have five kids.

MR. DARCY: What? Already? But we haven’t even …? That’s what I was getting at! Oh God, not that darsted Wickham was it? He got to you didn’t he? Couldn’t keep his grubby mitts off? But five kids! And out of wedlock I can only presume? There was never any talk of a divorce! I never saw you with a belly?

ELIZABETH: Well, it’s true. I have five kids. I wanted to tell you, I really did. Oh, Mr. Darcy, I do hope there won’t be any talk of divorce now. My kids mean so much to me. I was just afraid to bring them up in case you wouldn’t, you know, accept them. And me. When we are so much in love. In time I know that you will grow to love them all: Ringy, Nosey, Jonathan, Mabel, and Toey.

MR. DARCY: Forgive me if I step out of line Elizabeth, but those names. It sounds like Mr. Wickham was involved.

ELIZABETH: He wasn’t.

MR. DARCY: Then who and where is the man responsible for these kids?!

ELIZABETH: I got them off the farmer at the market.

MR. DARCY: Got them? Off the farmer? At the market? Is that how you speak of the sacred union between man and woman? Wickham did get to you! I don’t know of anyone else cunning enough. He dressed up as a farmer! Yes, yes, I see it in now! That swine! Fraternising with women, and fraternising with pigs. I should have known. I’ll find him I will. No eloping this time. I’ll force him to marry you too! Monogamy be damned! But dear Elizabeth, is this the end for us?

ELIZABETH: You assume too much, Mr. Darcy. I got them just last week.

MR. DARCY: Got them? You mean you adopted your young? Oh Highest Heaven, you mean you have quadruplets? With Mr. Wickham dressed as a blasted pig herder! You’ve named them before they’re even born? But why am I only hearing about this now?

ELIZABETH: Mr. Darcy, I have five goats.

MR. DARCY: Five goats!

ELIZABETH: Yes, Mr. Darcy. Five kids. Five goats.

MR. DARCY: You’ve already bought a goat for each one? Wickham, you peasant dog!

ELIZABETH: Five kids that are goats!

MR. DARCY: Elizabeth, this is all sounding very pagan.

ELIZABETH: I don’t have children, Mr. Darcy. It was a joke. I bought five goats at the market. I thought we could start a little hobby farm. You have an adequate sized estate, don’t you?

MR. DARCY: Of course. Please, forgive my tempestuousness. Seriously Elizabeth, this wry sense of humour of yours is sometimes just too much. I’ll end up with an aneurism.

ELIZABETH: Let’s make love in the barn.

MR. DARCY: I didn’t know we had one.

New Post has been published on http://stumentha.com/get-well-soon-carp/

Get Well Soon Carp

INT. HOSPITAL ROOM – DAY

[A WOMAN, MOTHER, LAYS BACK IN BED, BOTH HER ARMS AND ONE LEG SUSPENDED AND IN CASTS. A VASE OF FLOWERS SIT ON A BEDSIDE TABLE AS WELL AS AN ASSORTMENT OF COLOURFUL BALLOONS AND CARDS. THERE IS JUST ENOUGH SPACE FOR HER ORANGE JUICE IN A LITTLE PLASTIC MUG. THE SLOW BEEP OF HOSPITAL MACHINES AND THE DISTANT CHIT-CHAT OF NURSES TALKING TO PATIENTS CAN BE HEARD IN THE BACKGROUND. A KNOCK AT THE DOOR AND IT OPENS TO REVEAL A YOUNG, BRIGHT-FACED, WELL-DRESSED MAN, JIM, HOLDING A CARP IN AN OPEN BUNDLE OF NEWSPAPER. THE THING IS SO HUGE HE NEEDS TWO HANDS. IT’S STILL DRIPPING. IT LOOKS REMARKABLY FRESH. PERHAPS HE HAS JUST CAUGHT IT? HE KICKS THE DOOR CLOSED WITH HIS FOOT.]

JIM: Mum?

MOTHER: Jimmy! There’s my boy!

JIM: [STILL WITH THE FISH AWKWARDLY IN HIS HANDS, HE APPROACHES THE BED] I’m so glad you’re okay! When I heard of the accident, well, I came here as soon as I could. I told you mother, that bloody motor scooter would do you in!

MOTHER: Oh Jim, it’ll take more than a four wheel drive to do me in! The doctors say the surgery went perfectly. I’ll have the pins out in less than two years. Honestly, I’m fine.

JIM: Oh mum, I’m so relieved.I couldn’t bare to think … [HE SEEMS TO ONLY JUST REMEMBER THAT HE IS HOLDING SOMETHING] Oh here, I got you this.

[AS THE BEDSIDE TABLE IS FULL, HE PLACES THE CARP BESIDE HIS MOTHER ON THE BED.]

MOTHER: [LOOKING DOWN AT THE CARP, SHE FROWNS] Oh, you didn’t need to, but Jim… what is it?

JIM: It’s a carp. you know? The fish?

MOTHER: Yes … but why are you giving it to me? Here? Now?

JIM: Well, it’s a get well soon … [A LOOK OF SUDDEN REALISATION. HE TAKES ANOTHER LOOK AT THE BEDSIDE TABLE. CLOSE UP ON THE CARDS] car … p.

New Post has been published on http://stumentha.com/mothers-resolution/

Mother's Resolution

INT. DARK LIVING ROOM – EVENING.

[NORMAN BATES SITS ON A SOFA BY HIS “MOTHER”, A SKELETON WEARING A GREY WIG, WHO SITS IN A ROCKING CHAIR IN THE CORNER OF THE ROOM. NORMAN SLOWLY ROCKS HER ROCKING CHAIR WITH HIS HAND. HE SIGHS. PUSHING CARS INTO SWAMPS TAKES A LOT OF WORK!]

NORMAN: What is your new year’s resolution, mother?

[SILENCE.]

NORMAN: Mother?

[A MOMENT.]

MOTHER [IN A MUMBLED VOICE, ALMOST LIKE SOMEONE IS TALKING OUT THE SIDE OF THEIR MOUTH]: To get six pack abs.

[NORMAN INSTANTLY RECOILS, TAKES HIS HAND OFF THE ROCKING CHAIR, AND SITS UP STRAIGHT.]

NORMAN: Mother? Are you okay? You don’t sound yourself.

MOTHER: Sure I do, son. I’ve decided to get fit, I have. Yes, starting today I’m going to start going to the gym. I’m going to do pushups every morning, and smoothies. Yes, smoothies! I’m going to make lots of mango smoothies and run around the block, I am. Yes, just you watch! Mother isn’t quite done yet! …

[NORMAN GETS UP AND LOOKS BEHIND THE ROCKING CHAIR WHERE HE SEES HIS CLEANING LADY TALKING INTO HER CUPPED HANDS, HUDDLED IN THE DARK.]

MOTHER [NOW SIMONE]: … I’m gonna get fit ’n’ healthy! Yes! Yes! Just you wait and see!

NORMAN: Simone?

SIMONE: [LOOKING UP TO SEE NORMAN] Oh. Hi, Norman.

NORMAN: I thought you were all finished with the cleaning?

SIMONE: I was. Came back to get my broom. Gave mother here a bit of a polish while I was at it. Hope you don’t mind?

[NORMAN DOESN’T QUITE KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH HIS HANDS. HE PUTS THEM IN HIS POCKET AND SHYLY TAKES A STEP BACK.]

NORMAN: Um … I guess, not. No. I mean, not at all.

[SIMONE STANDS UP, EDGES HER WAY AROUND THE ROCKING CHAIR AND OUT OF THE CORNER OF THE ROOM, AND BRUSHES HERSELF OFF.]

SIMONE: See you Monday then?

NORMAN: Yes. I suppose so.

SIMONE: Good.

[SIMONE TAKES HER BROOM AND BACKS OUT OF THE DARK ROOM.]

[NORMAN SITS BACK DOWN AND TAPS HIS FINGERS NERVOUSLY ON THE ARM OF HIS SOFA. HE TURNS TO MOTHER TO SAY SOMETHING BUT DECIDES NOT TO.]

Mother’s Resolution

INT. DARK LIVING ROOM – EVENING. [NORMAN BATES SITS ON A SOFA BY HIS “MOTHER”, A SKELETON WEARING A GREY WIG, WHO SITS IN A ROCKING CHAIR IN THE CORNER OF THE ROOM. NORMAN SLOWLY ROCKS HER ROCKING CHAIR WITH HIS HAND. HE SIGHS. PUSHING CARS INTO SWAMPS TAKES A LOT OF WORK!] NORMAN: What is your new year’s resolution, mother? [SILENCE.] NORMAN: Mother? [A MOMENT.] MOTHER [IN A MUMBLED VOICE,…