Dennis & Maude went camping - A screenplay

INT. MAUDE'S HOUSE - MID-MORNING

Maude lives in a kitsch cottage. It has all the trappings of a cottage from the 1950’s but with a strange modern vibe. There are paintings of the Virgin Mary in every room. In the lounge there is almost a shrine to her. The sofas all have plastic covers on them and everything is pristine. Maude is dressed in muted pastels. Her cardigan is the same pale blue of the Virgin’s robes. Maude’s clothes are well starched; barely any flesh showing, even her sleeves are longer than normal so only the finger tips show. She wears a long, tight skirt of a formal brown with sensible shoes. She looks attractive but fragile.

She is packing a suitcase. Everything has been meticulously folded and fitted into the suitcase perfectly. She is slow and fastidious. There is another bag full of cleaning bottles and scrubbing brushes; pairs and pairs of rubber gloves; surgical gloves and a large roll of black plastic bags. Maude packs a few more items and looks at her watch. She packs a few more then looks at her clock. 

MAUDE: Have I done the right thing? I don’t know. Is it too late to back out? 

CUT TO:

INT. OFFICE MEETING ROOM - AFTERNOON

CAPTION: TWO DAYS BEFORE

There is a meeting dragging on. Everyone’s face is showing signs of despair and boredom. Maude is diligently awake, but she is annoyed. Dennis is staring at Maude.

The meeting finishes. Bob, the manager, looks at his watch.

BOB: Think I’ve bored you enough. It’s time for a break, and as it’s home time we can sod off to the pub. My shout, everyone!

DENNIS (To Maude): Most sensible thing he’s said all day.

Maude looks at him with surprise, as it's the first time she’s seen Dennis and he’s an alien.

MAUDE (unsure of herself): Show me the way to the pub?

CUT TO:

INT. PUB - MID AFTERNOON

Maude is being talked at. She looks uncomfortable but tries to smile.

DENNIS: So I took a drink when they did. But whilst they were drinking beer I was knocking back whisky! Anyway, I went to the loo; fell asleep! Woke up about two in the morning and the coach had gone!

MAUDE (gasp): What did you do?

DENNIS: Cadged a ride in a taxi with one of the managers who was having it off with one of their temps! The ride was awkward but I got home alright.

Maude rubs her wrist just above the hemline of her cardigan. She then takes a drink from her orange juice, but she presses the glass to her top lip, then bottom lip before drinking. Dennis watches intently. Maude looks up and blushes.

MAUDE (sternly): I don’t like being stared at. Why are you staring at me?

DENNIS: I thought I was the only one that did things like that…

MAUDE: Like what?

DENNIS: What you did with the glass. It’s OCD… Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

MAUDE: There’s nothing wrong with me! I’m not obsessive; I don’t have a disorder and I definitely am NOT compulsive!

DENNIS: Look, it’s alright. I’m just the same. I drive my family to distraction with my OCD. I understand, it’s alright.

Maude looks at Dennis, looks at her sleeve. She smiles weakly.

CUT TO:

INT. MAUDE'S COTTAGE - MID MORNING

MAUDE: Maybe it will be alright. I just wish he would be on time!

CUT TO:

INT. DENNIS’S HOUSE - MID-MORNING

Dennis is standing in front of his full length, ornate mirror. There are three mirrors in his bedroom. One on each wall. On the double bed are various changes of clothes. Several different combinations of trousers, jeans, chinos and slacks. Lots of shirts of different colors and styles. Dennis constantly holds different shirts to different trouser combinations in the mirror and can not make up his mind. There is a large toiletries bag on the bed, next to a large suitcase. Inside the toiletries bag are lots of bottles of conditioner, skin creams, hair gel, moisturizer.

Dennis looks at the clock. He looks at his watch and curses. He carefully packs his clothes into his suitcase. It won’t close. He opens it again and unpacks the shirts and trousers. 

DENNIS: Four days… How do I know I’ve packed enough? Do I pack a back-up suitcase, just in case? Is Maude really going to appreciate what I bring to the table?

CUT TO:

INT. PUB - MID AFTERNOON 

FLASHBACK

Dennis and Maude, sitting in the pub.

MAUDE: You’re quite funny.

DENNIS: Faint praise, indeed.

MAUDE: Don’t be unkind. I don’t know whether I like you or not, yet.

DENNIS: I’ve got some chance, then. (winks)

MAUDE: I don’t know what you mean.

DENNIS (laughs): You can’t get out much then.

MAUDE: I don’t… At all… Do you?

DENNIS: Not really… I talk a good game, but I don’t like going out much… Not really.

MAUDE: We’re a pair. 

Maude takes a drink from her orange juice and looks at Dennis. She looks down at her glass again.

MAUDE: Dennis. I want to ask you something. I can’t quite believe I’m going to ask you this. But I’m very serious. And I want you to think about it.

Dennis looks at Maude and tries not to get himself excited.

MAUDE: I have bought a camper van. I want to test it out but I’m nervous to drive it on my own. 

DENNIS: How did you manage to get a camper van? Aren’t they fucking expensive?

MAUDE: Please don’t swear in front of me. I came into some money recently.

Dennis smiles at this.

MAUDE: My parents died in a car crash.

Dennis immediately frowns.

DENNIS: Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.

MAUDE: I’m not. They didn’t understand me. They thought I was a fastidious freak… Anyway. I have this camper van now. And I would like you to travel with me.

CUT TO:

INT. DENNIS'S BEDROOM - MID MORNING

Dennis closes the suitcase and takes one more look in the mirror.

DENNIS: Get in there, my son.

CUT TO:

INT. MAUDE'S CAMPERVAN - AFTERNOON

Maude is driving the campervan. Her seat is pressed very close to the steering wheel so she is not level with Dennis’s seat, which is more relaxed. Both seats have plastic covers and Dennis has a hard time from slipping off them. Dennis reaches to turn on the radio.

MAUDE: Please don’t touch that.

DENNIS: Don’t you want the radio on?

MAUDE: No. I don’t. But I also don’t think you’ve washed your hands. I don’t want you to touch things until you’ve washed your hands. 

DENNIS: I’ve touched the door handle and the seat though.

MAUDE: I know about those places. I can wipe them down. If you want to touch other places then there are wet-wipes in the glove department.

Dennis opens the glove compartment. There are four packets of large wet wipes. He takes one out and wipes his hands. There’s also a car safety hammer.

MAUDE: Now wipe the glove compartment handle and the radio switch.

Dennis does so and looks around.

DENNIS: Where shall I throw the used wet wipes?

MAUDE: Wet wipes? More than one? (sigh) You’ll have to put them in your pocket.

DENNIS: Don’t you have a bin or something?

MAUDE: Yes. But they’re for me.

DENNIS: You have more than one?

MAUDE: But of course. One for paper and card. One for plastics. One for glass. One for vegetable food waste.

DENNIS: What about one for bones and skin? Don’t you eat meat?

Maude looks at Dennis askew, still driving, and blanches.

CUT TO:

INT. MAUDE'S CAMPER VAN - AFTERNOON

Maude is still driving. Dennis is staring out of the window. Every so often he sniffs.

MAUDE: Please stop doing that.

DENNIS: Breathing?

MAUDE: Don’t be flippant.

DENNIS: There’s a funny smell. I can’t put my finger on it, but it's strong.

MAUDE: it’s Dettol. Though I’m surprised you can smell it with all that aftershave on.

DENNIS: Don’t you like it? I wore it for you.

MAUDE: I wish you hadn’t.

CUT TO:

INT. MAUDE'S CAMPER VAN - AFTERNOON

DENNIS: You look tired. Did you want me to drive?

MAUDE: You’re not driving my camper van.

DENNIS: Would you rather pull into a service station and intermingle with all the other people and their dirty ways?

MAUDE: Ok…but you’re wearing gloves first.

DENNIS: I’m not wearing…

CUT TO:

Dennis is sitting at the driving wheel of the camper van, wearing surgical gloves. It’s raining hard outside and the windscreen wipers are doing their best to keep up.The camper van suddenly starts juddering. 

MAUDE: What have you done now? What have you touched?

DENNIS: Why do you think it was me?

MAUDE: Well, it wasn’t happening whilst I was driving.

Dennis looks at the petrol gauge. Taps it. Taps it again.

DENNIS: We’re out of fucking petrol. You know that, don’t you?

MAUDE: No, I didn’t. And it won’t make it better by tapping it like that.

DENNIS: No. I do know that.

MAUDE: So why do it? It’s annoying…

DENNIS: Do you actually hear yourself? I mean, you are aware that we’re stuck out in the middle of nowhere.

The camper van cuts out and Dennis has the foresight to pull into a makeshift lay-by.

DENNIS: Well, that’s fucking brilliant!

MAUDE: Would you please stop swearing. I don’t know why you’re trying to make it sound as if it's my fault.

DENNIS: You are aware of the internal combustion engine? That it relies on petrol to function?

MAUDE: I thought it beeped at you.

DENNIS: I’ll fucking beep at you…

MAUDE: Stop swearing! Stop swearing! I want you to STOP SWEARING! (sighs) Look. You need to find a way to fix this.

Dennis states at Maude. He looks outside at the torrential rain and then at Maude.

DENNIS: I need to fix this? Why do I need to fix it? What’s in it for me?

MAUDE: What do you want?

DENNIS: What do you think I want?

MAUDE (pauses): No. That’s sacrilegious. I couldn’t abide you to touch me like that. I just couldn’t.

DENNIS  (sighs): If it was just that then I wouldn’t have put up with all this… It’s not just sex either. I do like you… I think… and I think you like me… kinda… I think. Anyway, we won’t go all the way; you have my word. 

Maude looks at him with disgust.

DENNIS: Look, let’s make this even simpler. I go. I walk out. Get a lift from someone. Leave you alone. In the dark. In the rain. ALONE. Understand? 

Maude looks at Dennis with contempt now.

DENNIS: Or I go walkabout with a petrol can. Find a petrol station. Walk back, in the rain and save your precious camper van. And you show me a little kindness for my troubles. What’s it to be?

Maude nods her head.

MAUDE: I don’t have a spare petrol can.

DENNIS: Of course you don’t. But apart from that, you agree?

Maude nods her head. Dennis smiles and undoes his seat belt. He opens the door and turns to Maude.

DENNIS: Keep the humming in your hummus, babe. I’ll be back before you know it.

CUT TO:

EXT. LAYBY - LATE AFTERNOON

Dennis jumps out of the camper van. He lands on the waterlogged, muddy ground and slips down a slope into a puddle.

CUT TO:

INT. CAMPER VAN - LATE AFTERNOON

Maude stares out of the windscreen.

MAUDE: Bloody idiot. 

Maude opens the glove compartment and takes out the safety hammer.

CUT TO:

EXT. CAMPER VAN IN LAY-BY - EARLY EVENING

Dennis trudges back with two full petrol cans. It’s dark outside now.  It’s still raining and he is thoroughly drenched. Dennis opens the petrol compartment and pours the contents into the camper van.

CUT TO:

INT. CAMPER VAN - EARLY EVENING

Maude is standing in the small kitchen, chopping vegetables with a sharp knife. She can hear Dennis swearing and making noise topping up the petrol. The door to the camper van opens and Dennis is about to step in.

MAUDE: What do you think you’re doing?!

DENNIS: What?

MAUDE: You’re not coming in here like that!

DENNIS: Jesus!! You’re kidding, right?

Maude just stares at him sternly.

DENNIS: What am I going to do then?

MAUDE: That’s up to you. You should have thought of that before you left.

DENNIS: I just walked four miles to the petrol station. I filled up two heavy cans. Paid for them and the petrol out of my own money, and thanks for that as well. AND I walked back four miles IN THE POURING RAIN!

MAUDE: I am grateful. That is why I have been cooking for you since you’ve been gone. And I would appreciate it if you did not shout.

DENNIS (sighs. Takes a deep breath): Look I don’t want to argue out here. I’m muddy enough. If you pass me a couple of those plastic sacks I can put the muddy clothes in them. Would that be acceptable?

MAUDE: Only if you leave your shoes outside.

DENNIS: Ok, they’re ruined anyway… They were my favourite shoes as well…

Maude is no longer listening. She throws three black plastic sacks at Dennis. Dennis strips sheepishly in front of Maud. Maud does not look, she is intent on chopping the vegetables. The meal is to be a selection of homemade vegetables and dips. Dennis looks at them and turns his nose up. Dennis has boxer shorts on and is now choosing something to wear. 

DENNIS: It’s cold out there. I thought we were going to have something hot.

MAUDE: I’m not going to stink the place out with cooking, thank you.

Dennis is holding up different shirts to his body and looking at himself in the mirror. He does this a few times.

MAUDE: Just pick one goddammit!

DENNIS: You can’t rush these things, my dear.

At the word ‘dear’ there is a visible tic in Maude’s eye. It starts slow but starts to grow. The sounds of her chopping become more pronounced now.

CUT TO:

During the meal they sit in silence. Maude tries not to look at Dennis. When she finally does she can see him stare at her. The flutter in her eye increases.

CUT TO:

Later the meal is over. Dennis tries washing and drying up. Maude sits on the couch in the corner and seethes. Maude gets up, rips the dishcloth out of Dennis’s hands and starts everything from scratch.

CUT TO:

INT. CAMPER VAN - NIGHT

Outside it is still raining. The camper van rocks through the gusts of wind.

DENNIS: I’m so glad I got the petrol when I did, eh? 

MAUDE (Sarcastically): Yes, yes… You’re very clever. I don’t know what I would have done without you… Make the damn move, won’t you?! Why don’t you make the move? Why do you think I’m just sitting here?

Dennis sits bolt upright.

DENNIS: Hang on now, darling. Don’t be like that. You can’t rush things.

MAUDE: Don’t call me darling. And I thought it was the only thing you were any good at…

DENNIS: I beg your pardon?

MAUDE: You have a reputation. I wanted to take advantage of that reputation. I wanted to see what it was like… sex, I mean. I thought it was the only thing you were good at.

DENNIS: You’re kidding me… I hate to break it to you, Maude. It’s just that, a reputation. It’s amazing how little sleight of hand it takes to create a reputation. That’s why I really wanted to be with you; I thought you were different.

Maude is taken aback by this. She looks at Dennis and sees vulnerability. She relaxes a bit.

MAUDE: I’m sorry. I’m on edge and shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I think it would mean more if you… take me like this. Please.

Maude motions to Dennis. Dennis gets up and walks over. He sits down nervously next to Maud. Maude stiffens up immediately. Dennis puts his hand tentatively on Maude's leg and she slaps him.

DENNIS: What the hell?

MAUDE: I’m sorry! You took me off guard; I’ve never done this kind of thing before.

Dennis leans in closer only for Maude to lean back. Dennis pushes closer and tries to kiss Maude. Maude slaps him much harder now Dennis slips off the plastic covers onto the floor.

DENNIS: What the?!

MAUDE: I’m sorry! Really…. I do want this, but you just need to be patient with me.

DENNIS: Patient?

MAUDE: Would it help if we just got undressed and went straight into it?

DENNIS: Yeah; right – I need to be a bit more aroused before that, you know?

MAUDE: What can I do about that?

DENNIS: Seriously??

MAUDE (with disgust): You want me to touch it!

DENNIS: What else you going to do? Suck it?

Maud dry retches. Dennis sighs

DENNIS: Let’s try it again… just try not to hit me this time.

Dennis places his hand on her thigh, leans in and kisses her. Maude starts to tremble. She places her hand on his shoulder. Dennis kisses Maude deeper. Maude bites down and then slaps him.

DENNIS: FUCK! Right! That’s it! I can’t do this shit any more. You’re crazy – just crazy!

Dennis pushes himself off the seat and sits away from her.

MAUDE: I can’t help it!

DENNIS: (mimics her) I can’t help it..  (in his own voice) Well, I’m not going to try again… I’m going for a dump.

Dennis gets up and walks towards the toilet.

MAUDE: I don’t think so… you’re not going in here. This is my camper van. You can sleep here, in the front, but you are not.. I repeat, you are not going to the toilet here.

Dennis is about to shout at Maude. Maude’s face is contorted now, her eye is fluctuating and her upper lip is starting to judder at the corner.  Dennis puts on his sodden clothes again and picks up a roll of toilet paper.

DENNIS: This isn’t over.

CUT TO:

INT. CAMPER VAN - NIGHT

Maude is cleaning the camper van. She is happy. There are no facial tics. She has taken all the cutlery out of the drawer and is cleaning every bit before putting them back into the drawer again. The door slams open and a very muddy, very dishevelled, drenched and thoroughly pissed off Dennis staggers into the van. He is covered in mud and shit.

MAUDE (She starts looking disgusted, then bemused): What the hell happened to you?

(She now looks flabbergasted.)

DENNIS: Hell is right… all because of you and your pristine toilet. You wouldn’t believe what I’ve gone through.. The weather’s so much worse. I found a place that I thought was safe to take a crap. But I didn’t count on the river bursting its banks… and it happened when I was mid-shit as well. I’ve no idea how far I was carried before I managed to grasp onto one of the trees that were overhanging. It’s taken me this long to get back..

MAUDE: I hadn’t even realise how long you’ve been gone. Shut the door will you…

DENNIS: That’s charming…

MAUDE: Just what do you think you look like?

Maude laughs. Laughs hard. She is laughing so hard that she has to steady herself on the kitchen sink unit. Dennis stands there for a minute. The door is still open and water is starting to seep in from outside. The river has burst its banks. Maude is still laughing. Dennis lumbers up to her, his muddied shoes squelching on the sodden lino.

Dennis slaps Maude across the cheek. She falls on the kitchen top to the floor, dragging the cutlery drawer with her. Dennis looks at her on the floor and realises what he’s done. He bends down to help Maude back up. Maude grabs an apple corer blindly and stabs him with it. She screams as he jerks back. As he backs away he slips in the water that's flowing through the open driver's door. 

Dennis falls back hard. Maude scrabbles up and leaps at Dennis. She pins his legs and stabs him with the corer tool repeatedly. She has a pristine smile on her face as the muddied waters rise around her.

FADE OUT:

TITLE CARD: DENNIS AND MAUDE WENT CAMPING

Who hates you (and why) - a screenplay

AUDIENCE SOUNDS - BLACK SCREEN

A murmur to start with. A chant barely audible but growing.The lights start to grow in intensity.

FADE IN: INT. TELEVISION STUDIO - NIGHT

The television studio is not large. It seats fifty or sixty people but it sounds as if there are a lot more people.

ANNOUNCER: It’s that time again! Who hates you and who do you hate to love? 

Suddenly a massive and garish sign flares up in neon. THE KUNT SHOW

AUDIENCE:  KUNT! KUNT! KUNT! KUNT!

Saul Kunt walks on stage exuding smarm and charm. His arrogance is personified. A mixture of Piers Morgan and Ryan Reynolds.

SAUL: Who do you love to hate?

AUDIENCE: KUNT KUNT KUNT KUNT!!!

SAUL: And he hates you too! Well, we’ve got so many victims tonight that I think you’re going to have an amazing time!

The audience starts jeering and cheering; whipped up into a spectacle.

FADE OUT:

FADE IN:

EXT. STREET - NIGHT

Saul is walking alone. He is very watchful. He has every reason to be. It’s been raining and he can hear his footsteps splashing in puddles. It’s late and there aren’t many people around. Saul can hear footsteps behind him getting closer, the splashing sounding urgent, forceful. Saul instinctively walks quicker but the footsteps behind him don’t, they die down completely. He walks past an alleyway strewn with rubbish and broken furniture. A few seconds later and the footsteps are back and they’re right behind him now. Saul is about to turn around when he’s hit right in the back with a table leg. He falls into a puddle.

ATTACKER : You bastard. You think everything is there for you to rip apart. You and your damn show! You don’t care who you take apart, who you destroy. Well destroy this!

The attacker ineptly beats Saul with the table leg. There’s no real strength to the blows and Saul has rolled into a foetal position. Soon the attacker throws the chair leg at him and runs off. Saul painfully gets up from the puddle.

SAUL: Fuck… another grateful fan, no doubt… my admiring fucking public.

Saul is in a lot of pain and staggers to the nearest house.The gate is wooden and lightly peeling. There’s no doorbell but a brass knocker in the shape of a gargoyle. Saul bangs it three times. The door opens on the third and a non-descript chap with shaggy hair, sullen eyes and glasses opens it. This is GRAHAM.

SAUL: …And here is the man you love to hate…

Saul takes a few steps inside as Graham closes the door behind him. Graham can see the state of Saul and just lets him in. Once the door closes Saul throws up on the carpet and slides down the wall in pain.

FADE OUT:

FADE IN:

INT. GRAHAM’S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT

Saul is sitting on an old 1980’s style MFI sofa. The lounge has a homely, lived in look.Everything is retro without being kitsch; it is genuine. Graham is sitting opposite him but as Saul wakes Graham walks off into the kitchen to get him a cup of chamomile tea.

Saul continues to look around him: Bookcases full of well-read books of all shapes and sizes. The ceiling is artexed. There is a small coffee table in front of him with a book of Trevor Grimshaw prints. In the corner is a record player-cabinet with horn. The most beautiful music is coming from it and Saul sits up to listen.

GRAHAM (From kitchen): That’s Elgar’s Cello Concerto.

SAUL:  Is that an original record player?

GRAHAM: Most of it. I updated it a little so it could play standard LP’s. Trying to get anything to play 78s is pretty nigh on impossible these days. It’s the shellac, modern needles damage them.

SAUL : 78s?

GRAHAM: The old gramophone records of the early 20th Century. So difficult to get these days anyways. Trying to get hold of anything… well, old, these days it is virtually impossible. There are still a few companies that use snail mail. I suppose most people would think of me as an old fogey!

SAUL (Mutters to himself): And the rest.

GRAHAM (Walks out, holding a tray with two cups of tea): Sorry, I didn’t quite get that.

SAUL: The music is beautiful. I don’t think I’ve heard anything like it before.

Graham places the tray on the table and hands Saul his cup. Graham looks surprised by Saul’s statement

GRAHAM: Really? This performance is particularly grand. Jacqueline de Pre is playing the cello. 

Saul is still looking at Graham with bemusement.

GRAHAM: Oh! I’m so sorry. After all the excitement I’ve not introduced myself! I don’t get many visitors.

Saul manages to stop himself from saying anything derisory and instead shakes Graham’s outstretched hand.

GRAHAM: My name’s Graham. Graham Cleverly. Learned to accept the burden of the surname. Used to get bullied for it at school but I’ve got used to it.

SAUL: I can relate to that. 

GRAHAM: Oh, why’s that then?

Saul is bemused and leans back into the comfy sofa.

SAUL: Do you not know who I am then?

GRAHAM: Sorry, old bean; should I?

SAUL: I’m quite famous… or should I say infamous.

GRAHAM: Ah, infamy. I once heard that fame was fickle like a woman. (chuckles) She has to be courted and wooed, brought gifts and seduced but she can turn on you in an instant! (GRAHAM snaps his fingers)

SAUL: I’ve not heard that before but it’s very apt! Well, my name is Kunt.

There is no reaction from Graham, not even from the actual word itself.

SAUL: Saul Kunt? Have you really not heard of me? 

Graham shakes his head sheepishly.

SAUL: I’m rather big on tv; and even bigger online.

Graham shrugs again.

SAUL: On the internet. You know?

GRAHAM (Shakes his head): And therein lies the problem, old chap. I have neither a television or a computer!

Saul looks around him. He’s not noticed that before now and, there is no television; no computer. Just the record player and books.

SAUL (despite himself): Well, fuck me.

CUT TO:

INT. GRAHAM’S KITCHEN - AFTERNOON

It’s another day. Both Graham and Saul are wearing different clothes and for every piece of dialogue there is a change of day; a change of clothes, etc. Saul has finally found someone he can talk to. 

GRAHAM (Mid-conversation): …burglars would take two minutes to check the place out and realise that there’s nothing worth stealing. There’s nothing modern that looks as if it’s worth anything, so why worry?

SAUL: Well, when you put it like that…

CUT TO:

INT. GRAHAM’S LOUNGE - AFTERNOON

SAUL: …still can’t get over the fact that you have no idea of who I am.

GRAHAM: What is it that Joe Masteroff wrote? “Leave your troubles outside! So—life is disappointing? Forget it! In here, life is beautiful!”

(SAUL Laughs)

GRAHAM: Ok, maybe not beautiful but you get my gist. I don’t care about who you are ‘outside’. That’s not you, anyway.

Saul rubs his chin and wonders.

CUT TO:

GRAHAM: Everything has become so trivial today, and I think that television is to blame for that.

SAUL (Saul laughs good-naturedly): You might have something there, Graham. You really might!

CUT TO:

INT. GRAHAM’S LOUNGE - NIGHT

Graham is unwrapping a present. It’s a portable CD player with a few classical music cd’s including a box set of Jacqueline de Pre. 

SAUL: Happy Birthday, Graham. 

Graham looks confused. 

SAUL: It’s so you can carry your music around with you!

There’s now various electrical devices scattered on the shelves. A digital clock; a top of the line radio; electric lamps. No television though still. There is a barely discernible hum though.

GRAHAM: You really shouldn’t Saul. You buy me enough already and it’s really not necessary. We’re friends. It’s not as if I can repay you either.

SAUL: You don’t need to.

GRAHAM: And nor do you.

SAUL: I don’t think you understand, Graham. I can be myself here, with you. That’s a luxury I never knew I had until we met. I wish more people could know you as I do.

CUT TO:

INT. CORPORATE OFFICES - MORNING

Saul sits across a desk with his producer, CLive and researcher, Steph. 

SAUL : I want to do something different with the next show.

CLIVE : Different is bad, Saul. You know that. This format works. Steph researches the guests, you rip them to shreds! Gold!

STEPH: And people line up to be on the show! Well, they’re put up to it most of the time…

SAUL: I'm not sure I want to do that any more. I’ve changed, Clive. I want to be like Michael Parkinson or Terry Wogan. Serious chat-show hosts.

STEPH: Who?

CUT TO:

INT. GRAHAM’S KITCHEN - AFTERNOON

Saul and Graham are sharing a cup of tea. Graham is using the eclectic kettle that Saul bought him. Graham is looking a bit disheveled.

SAUL: Are you still having trouble sleeping?

GRAHAM: It’s the electric clock you got me; the glow of the numbers takes a bit of getting used to… But what were you saying?

SAUL: I want to put you on my chat show. I want other people to get to know you as I do.

GRAHAM: And why do you want to do that? What’s wrong with what we’ve got now?

SAUL: No one else seems to understand. They see a change in me… because of you… your influence… and they just don’t get it. If more people knew you, then they might… get it.

GRAHAM: But?

SAUL: My producer wants to meet with you first. He’s a very skeptical man.

GRAHAM: Meeting you is fine, there is no pressure for me to be anyone else. I don’t think the same will be true when I’m out with your other friends.

SAUL: He’s my producer, not my friend.

CUT TO:

INT. A COFFEE SHOP - MORNING

Saul and Graham sit opposite Steph and Clive. Graham is uncomfortable. He’s wearing clothes that are out of date, but still smart. Saul is trying to encourage him to talk. Clive is quiet, rubbing right thumb against his fingers. Steph is trying not to laugh. Graham is unaware of how he sounds to them.

GRAHAM: It suits me fine though… not having a computer, I mean.. Life moves far too fast for me out there. I can’t keep up. There’s no getting to know each other, not really. Everything’s on show, everything’s for sale. Everything and everybody is commented on all the time and there’s no time to develop oneself. It’s all instant ego gratification and I refuse to live in that kind of world.

CUT TO:

Saul and Clive are paying the bill at the counter whilst Steph is talking to Graham. Clive nudges Saul.

CLIVE: I love it. It’s so calculated it’s fucking mean. Where’d you find him? This is going to be abso-fucking amazing.

SAUL (shocked): What? No! It’s genuine, Clive! He’s an amazing guy. I tell you, more people need to be like him.

CLIVE: Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever. If this is it; if this is really a sting then it’s a green light. If you are being genuine then it’ll be the last thing you ever do.

CUT TO:

INT. SAUL’S FLAT - NIGHT

Saul is on the phone to Graham. Graham sounds faint and spaced out, he can’t get used to talking on the telephone. There’s also the sound of static on the line.

SAUL: You need to have the mouthpiece closer to you, Graham; bloody hell.

GRAHAM: I really don’t think this is a good idea. You sound more stressed now than what you did yesterday!

SAUL: You don’t understand show business. It’s like being a spy the whole time, like being in that book you lent me: Orwell’s 1984. I have to toe the company line and even though I’m quite an influential person on television I’m still living on a knife edge, trying to keep up a cover story. Everyone wants a piece of who they think you are and there’s not enough of the real me to go around any more. I’ve lost sight of who that is, actually. Which is why I’m grateful to have met you.

GRAHAM: There’s a lot of it about, then.

SAUL: What’s that then?

GRAHAM: People being daft.

SAUL: More than you know, Graham. More than you know. Anyway; you need an early night. It’s the big day tomorrow.

CUT TO:

INT. TELEVISION STUDIO - NIGHT

The studio is packed. Graham is nervous, fidgeting. Saul is trying to look cool.

SAUL: Stop fidgeting, you’re making me nervous!

GRAHAM: Sorry. Maybe this was a bad idea.

The theme music starts and the crowd goes wild, clapping and jeering. But there is no fanfare this time; no voice over. The audience starts with their change of: “KUNT KUNT” but Saul motions for them to be quiet. The lights shine down on him as he stands up and walks to the front of his little set. Graham is not in the spotlight yet. He’s still in the shadows.

SAUL: (Speaking in his normal voice, albeit louder) People seem to think that it’s impossible for a man to change. Anyone can change if they’re given the chance, and luckily I was given that chance! I never realised that there was more to life than this. This chap here saved my life.(points to Graham and sits down next to him)

A few people get up out of their chairs and leave.

SAUL: In more ways than one… he didn’t do anything particularly heroic, but what he did was to open the door to a complete stranger and show him unconditional kindness. These last three months he’s continued to show me that same kindness as he’s opened his doors to me time and time again. He’s one of the most caring and thoughtful individuals that I’ve ever come across. (Graham blushes and fidgets some more) I’ve learnt things through Graham and believe that I’m becoming a better man. I sleep better and understand people more. He’s my friend and I want you all to meet him.

The spotlight shines on to Graham who puts his hand over his eyes briefly before remembering what Saul told him. A few more people get up and leave. Clive looks disgruntled and shakes his head in disbelief.

SAUL: True, Graham is a slice of yesteryear. But he is so refreshing and was quite an eye opener to me, I can tell you! I wouldn’t say that he’s out of touch with us today but in some ways he’s remembered things that we’ve forgotten. But he’d never seen a CD before I played him one, let alone heard of music downloads. He still has a record player, would you believe! What do you think of the difference though, Graham?

GRAHAM (Coughs):I still prefer vinyl. It has a much warmer sound. It’s more intimate.

There are a few chuckles of derision from the audience.

SAUL: It’s true; he does still prefer to listen to the records… and the bizarre thing is that he’s right! I started listening to some of his albums and they do sound so much richer and warmer. How can that be? Mind you, he didn’t even have a TV! Can you believe that! Why don’t you have a television set, Graham? You don’t even use the one that I bought you won’t even let me buy you one!

A few more people walk out with tuts and sighs.

GRAHAM (Really nervous and wooden):  I don’t have any need for it…I read, listen to the records…

Saul has seen the people leaving now and is a little shaken by what is happening. He carries on though, trying to salvage the conversation.

SAUL: Funny enough, I don’t miss it either when I’m at your place. We talk most of the time and listen to music. You’re so knowledgeable as well, Graham. I could talk to you for hours! How so?

GRAHAM: Because I don’t watch TV?

CUT TO::

Clive, standing in the wing of the studio.

CLIVE (mutters to himself): That’s going to hurt the ratings.

CUT TO:

Saul is more nervous now. He’s seen Clive and Clive is making the sign of slitting his throat.

SAUL: Well… you certainly read more than many people. Most of the books must be from libraries, I guess? What do you think of the plan to shut down more libraries?

GRAHAM: Well.. I heard someone say that it was possible to determine the degree of civilisation by the way they treated their books. Our libraries are falling into disarray; they’re old, dusty buildings and the books are often in a really bad way.

There’s an audible sigh and groan from the audience. Clive has his head in his hands and more people are leaving.

GRAHAM: I don’t interact with people, as you.. ahem.. know. I just can’t. They live by the sound bite, short twittered attention spans, no depth to their lives. Books are an investment into one's soul, allowing the individuals to grow, but all I see are stunted people everywhere.

Saul sees more people leaving. Clive is about to storm the set and turn the lights off. Saul looks at Graham fidget, looks at the audience.

SAUL (in his stage voice): Talking of stunted people, tweetie pie! You’re the latest victim of THE KUNT!

There is now an audible gasp from the audience. Those that were in the process of leaving suddenly rush back to their seats. There’s a palpable round of applause and Clive is really surprised and delighted by this turn of events. Graham doesn’t know what to think, he just looks at Saul for confirmation of what’s happening. Saul will not look at him.

SAUL: Would you believe this guy? He doesn’t have a television. He didn’t have a microwave, until I gave him one. He didn’t even have a radio or an electric alarm clock until I gave him one. He still doesn’t have a girlfriend and I’m certainly not giving him one of those.

Saul is on a roll. He insults every aspect of Graham’s life and has never been so savage before. Graham just sits there and takes it.

FADE OUT:

FADE IN:

EXT. THE STREET OUTSIDE GRAHAM’S HOUSE - NIGHT

The night after the biggest show of Saul’s life. He’s reading the news on his mobile about how he engineered the biggest coup in internet and broadcasting history. He doesn’t look happy though. He comes to Graham’s house and stops. The gate is broken. There is a dustbin visible and inside are all the electrical items that Saul bought him, including the boxes. There are cords trailing outside, and the lid isn’t on properly so we can see a toaster, or the cd player… The windows have boards against them where someone has tried breaking them. The words “SPECCY TWAT” are spray-painted on the door. Saul ponders whether or not to knock on the door. He hears Jacqueline de Pre playing faintly from within. He then hears someone walking on the opposite side of the street to him.

PASSER-BY: (SHOUTS) Who loves you, Kunty baby?!

SAUL (SHOUTING BACK): Who hates to love you back?

Saul continues walking through the night-time streets.

FADE OUT:

The Buddy Story - A Screenplay

INT. COMEDY CLUB - NIGHT

A smokey, dingey third-rate comedy club. The club has barely anyone inside: a couple at the bar and two or three sitting closer to the stage. There is silence because BUDDY is dying on stage; his tight fitting suit seems to be winning the battle for breath. He holds the microphone like he’s trying to throttle it. Behind BUDDY is a battered sign on an easel: “THE BUDDY PARSNIP SHOW”.

BUDDY (Talking into the microphone):Why is a martyr like the Grateful Dead? They're both stoned?

Absolute silence from the audience, maybe an embarrassed cough.

BUDDY: Manic depressives make the best pilots! Why? They're already flying solo.

A couple of people look at each other in confusion.

BUDDY: I used to have a drinking problem... I tried drinking gasses instead of liquids!

Another patron throws a plastic bottle at Buddy and it hits him on the chest.

AUDIENCE MEMBER (Shouts): YOU SUCK!

CUT TO:

TITLE CARD: THE BUDDY STORY

INT. DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT

Buddy sits alone in the backstage communal dressing room. He stares at himself in the mirror. His reflection winks back just as Mr O'Flattery opens the door. He walks up to Buddy and slaps him on the shoulder.

Mr O'Flaterry is overbearingly small. 

MR O'FLATTERY: Well, you done it again, pal! Well done. I knew I could really rely on you!

BUDDY: I bombed! Again! You heard them out there…

MR O'FLATTERY: That’s what I like best about your act, kid! You manage to clear the house every time you're on! Tuesdays and Thursdays I have a hard time getting rid of the drunks; but the nights that you're on they just get up and leave!

Buddy slumps deeper into his chair and stares at his reflection. His reflection grimaces briefly.

MR O'FLATTERY: Look, business was crap before you got here and you haven't made it any worst!But I swear that some people come in just to see how bad you are! At least they’re never disappointed.

CUT TO:

EXT. STREET - NIGHT

Buddy stands outside his front door. He sees the light in the lounge window is on. He grimaces as he carefully puts the key in the lock as quietly as he can manage. He slowly unlocks the front door and silently shuts it behind him.

CUT TO:

INT. HALLWAY - NIGHT

He then fumbles his keys and drops them on the floor.

JANGLING CRASH

BUDDY'S MOTHER (An almost manly voice. Menacing but laced with paranoia):Buddy? What time do you call this? You never tell me where you're going or when you'll be back... don't you care about me? Don't you care?

Buddy takes his shoes off in the hall, shaking his head; cowed by his mother once again. 

CUT TO:

INT. LOUNGE - NIGHT

Buddy walks into the lounge. His mother sits on a sofa opposite the television. She has a mug of horlicks on the reading table next to her. She is tall and thin. She is incredibly strong in being weak.

Buddy stands by the door at the edge of the room. He stares at his mum with resignation and hostility.

BUDDY: Mum, for Christ's sake, I'm 36 years old.. I can take care of myself.

BUDDY'S MUM: You can take care of yourself but you don't take care of me! What did I do to deserve such a son?

Buddy sighs.

BUDDY: Mum! For Christ’s sake: I do look after you, well.. I would if you let me. I pay more than enough rent and I try to take you out.

BUDDY'S MUM: I don't want to go outside where all the people are, you never know where they've been! They're too nosey, inconsiderate.. You should stay with me, we could watch television!

BUDDY: Mum – I'm tired, I'm going to bed.

BUDDY'S MUM: Why don't you tell me where you go at night? Is there a woman? Oh, please let there be a woman!

BUDDY: Don't worry, mum -I'm fine!

BUDDY’S MUM: So, there is a woman then?

BUDDY: NO! There's no woman!

BUDDY'S MUM: Are you ashamed of me? Is that why you don’t bring her back?

BUDDY: For the last time. There's no woman, there’s no man… and there are no sheep! But yes - I am ashamed of you. Now good night!.

Buddy turns, walks out the door before his mother has a chance to reply.

CUT TO:

INT. COMEDY CLUB - NIGHT

Another night. Less people than before. Mr O’Flattery looks bemused due to the poor quality of jokes. Buddy at the mic.

BUDDY: What’s the stupidest insect? An ignorant! What’s worse than that though? A sycophant!!

BUDDY'S MUM (Shouts from the back of the room): BUDDY! What are you doing here? I was sick with worry.

Buddy is shocked. His mouth is open and he is in a state of disbelief. The few customers are suddenly more awake and paying attention.

BUDDY (choked): Mum?

Buddy’s mum is walking fast from the back of the room.

BUDDY'S MUM: I thought you were dead in a ditch somewhere! Or in a hospital somewhere… or with a woman. I was hoping it was with a woman… or even a man would have been better than this!

The audience, as it is, is paying rapt attention to what is happening. There are smirks and even titters of laughter can be heard.

BUDDY: What are you doing here, Mum?

BUDDY'S MUM: What do you think I'm doing here? I followed you! Why are you making such a sucker out of yourself? Why couldn't you have been with a woman? Even a whore... Anything would have been better than this!

Buddy panics, looks at the audience. The audience is enjoying this. He looks at Mr O’Flattery. Mr O’Flattery grins and gives him the thumbs up. 

BUDDY: Drummers make the worst cryptologists… Why? They’re always crashing their cymbals?

BUDDY'S MUM: Why couldn't it have been a woman?

The audience laughs loudly and Buddy looks utterly defeated.

CUT TO:

INT. BUDDY'S BEDROOM - NIGHT

His bedroom is actually smaller than the shared dressing room of the comedy club. The cramped single bed is snug in the far corner. There are posters of Eddie Murphy; Dustin Hoffman (as Lenny Bruce); Tommy Cooper and Jasper Carrott. Buddy is sitting on the edge of his bed, facing his reflection in the built-in mirrored wardrobe. His face is stalwart; his brow is furrowed in frustration. His reflection is frowning, gnashing his teeth. His reflection starts talking. Buddy’s mouth remains shut.

BUDDY'S REFLECTION: She’s done it again; ruined everything. I can’t take it anymore. She’s got to go… But how?

BUDDY: Garrote?

Buddy’s reflection shakes his head.

BUDDY: Push her downstairs?

Another shake of the head.

BUDDY: Freak gardening accident? Swallowing powdered glass?

BUDDY'S REFLECTION: Her cooking is worse, remember?

Silence. Buddy is fuming now. 

BUDDY: GAH! They thought she was brilliant! They never paid that much attention to me before!

BUDDY'S REFLECTION: You were the perfect double-act. They loved the conflict… It’s a shame you can’t make her take part…

BUDDY: Hang on a fucking minute… Maybe I can…

CUT TO:

INT. BEHIND THE STAGE AT THE COMEDY CLUB - NIGHT

Buddy is waiting to go on. He has a stool with him and a suitcase by his side. Mr O’Flattery walks up behind him, beaming.

MR O'FLATTERY: It's a full house, kid! People must have heard of your ball-breaking. They've turned up in droves to see if she turns up again. so… will she?

BUDDY: She might… she just might…

INT. STAGE - NIGHT

Buddy walks on to the stage, carrying his case and stool. He sets the case on the floor next to the stage and starts his act.

BUDDY: What’s the smallest piece of stationery you can get? A PINcel sharpener! 

Somebody boo’s.

BUDDY: What would Doctor Who be if he lived under the sea? A brine lord!

Another boo from the crowd.

BUDDY: What is it when you throw a cat back at someone? A recatipulated catapult!

CROWD - MIXED VOICES: BOO! Get OFF the stage!! Where’s your mum?!

Everyone laughs at this last comment.

SUITCASE (Buddy jostles the suitcase with his foot. The voice is just like his mothers!): BUDDY!!

The audience goes silent. Everyone looks to the back of the room. No one is there.

SUITCASE: Buddy! Let me out!

Mr O’Flattery puts the club lights on.

SUITCASE: Let me out of this fucking suitcase!

Laughter from the audience. Buddy picks the suitcase up with some difficulty.

BUDDY: Oh shit. I’m for it now!

More laughter. Buddy opens the suitcase, whips out the caricatured puppet of his mother. Cheers from the audience.

MOTHER PUPPET: Who the hell are they, Buddy? This isn’t some kind of orgy, is it? Why can’t you live a normal life like that Mr O’Fattery over there.

A bout of laughter. O’Flattery laughs from the side of the stage.

BUDDY: Muuuum… Don’t say that, it’s Mr O’Flatterly.. I mean, O’Flattery!! You’re going to get me fired!

MOTHER PUPPET: Just when you’re finally getting an audience? This must be the first time they’re laughing WITH you rather than at you…

More laughs.

MOTHER PUPPET (to the audience): I’m so glad you’re here though. I’ve been very worried about him. For years I’ve thought there was something wrong with him… but he’s finally got wood AND been able to give someone else a really good fingering.

BUDDY (feigning embarrassment): Muuuum…

FADE OUT:

MONTAGE

Clips of Buddy performing over a series of nights; the audience getting larger. Always performing with MOTHER. Mr O’Flattery beaming wide, counting the money; Buddy getting paid more and more money.

MOTHER PUPPET: Clean out your room! It’s like a rat's nest!

BUDDY: I’m not surprised. You won’t let me out of the basement and the rats don’t want to share!

MOTHER PUPPET: Are you one of those mono-sexuals?

BUDDY

Only if my right hand counts!

CUT TO:

INT. COMEDY CLUB BAR - NIGHT

Buddy is relaxing at the bar when a very attractive woman walks up to him. 

MANDY: I love your act… you’re so funny!

MOTHER PUPPET VOICE: Watch out for this one… she looks like a gold-digger.

BUDDY: She’s not after your gold-fillings, mum. Shut up!

MANDY (laughs): You’re so funny! Maybe we can go out sometime?

CUT TO:

MONTAGE

Buddy and Mandy walking together, happily. Buddy throws his voice at different times.

CUT TO:

INT. THEATER - EVENING

Buddy sits with Mandy in the more expensive seats. He winks at Mandy.

BUDDY (Throwing his voice, at no one in particular): Hey, Baldy! Shush! Just zip it!

Everyone turns to look at each other, as does Buddy.

CUT TO:

EXT. THE PARK - MORNING

Mandy and Buddy are sitting down eating sandwiches next to a pond. Buddy is talking to Mandy about his puppets having dry rot. 

MANDY: What? Did you say something, Buddy? I wasn’t listening… 

She points to an elderly couple that’s about to walk past.

MANDY: Go on… here’s your chance! Get them! Make them think they’re hearing voices.

Buddy sighs. The penny has dropped.

CUT TO:

INT. COMEDY CLUB STAGE - NIGHT

Buddy is on stage with his mother puppet. There is another suitcase on the floor next to him. Mandy is in the audience. All of a sudden the routine just stops. The mother puppet just looks at Buddy and then down at the audience.

MOTHER PUPPET: Ok, where is she? Where is the cradle snatching, money grabbing whore?

The audience are holding their breath in anticipation. This is something new. 

SAMMI PUPPET: How dare you!

Buddy reaches down with his other hand. Opens the suitcase and another puppet is produced. This is Sammi; a very rude caricature of Mandy. Mandy gasps in horror.

SAMMI PUPPET: You miserable old windbag! You termite ridden harridan!

MOTHER PUPPET: Buddy! Are you going to let her get away with that?

BUDDY: What can I do? I haven’t got any hands free!

The audience is laughing hard now. Mandy is sobbing and gets up. She walks away crying. Buddy doesn’t notice her. The Sammi puppet does though and jiggles up and down, as if it's laughing.

CUT TO:

EXT. COMEDY CLUB EXTERIOR - NIGHT

A large, gaudy poster of Buddy holding the mother puppet. “THE BUDDY SHOW!” and then in smaller letters: “Comedy is not the only thing that's wooden!”

CUT TO:

INT. COMEDY CLUB STAGE - NIGHT

Buddy is on stage. On one hand is the Sammi puppet. On the other is a new creation; a crude version of Buddy. 

The puppet of Buddy is on the left hand; Sammi on the other. They are on either side of Buddy and can’t see each other. The Buddy puppet peers over to Sammi and when the Sammi puppet peers back he disappears behind Buddy, embarrassed.

SAMMI PUPPET: Are you interested in ornithology?

BUDDY PUPPET: I’m not sure, why?

SAMMI PUPPET: Because I’d love to see your little woodpecker!

Both puppets ‘kiss’ and get ‘naked’. They start having sex.The audience is a little bemused by this. The humping becomes more strenuous then:

SAMMI PUPPET: Buddy?

BUDDY PUPPET: Whaaat?

SAMMI PUPPET: Why does your mum hate me?

BUDDY PUPPET: She doesn't, sweetie. She just doesn't understand you.

SAMMI PUPPET: That’s alright then.

The rhythm resumes its intensity. It suddenly stops again.

SAMMI PUPPET: Buddy?

BUDDY PUPPET: What now?

SAMMI PUPPET: I was thinking… Maybe we should get married?

BUDDY PUPPET (looks at audience): Well, I’ve lost wood!

CUT TO:

INT. DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT

Buddy is alone in his dressing room. It’s a large one now. The door slams open. His mother enters, enraged. She’s holding the puppet of herself.

BUDDY'S MOTHER: What the hell is this, Buddy? What do you call this? What is happening?

Buddy’s mother slams the door behind her. She throws the puppet at Buddy.

BUDDY: Be careful with that?

BUDDY'S MOTHER (shouting): Be careful? What about me? Do you know what other people are saying about me? They think it's all outrageously funny and obviously thought I knew about it!

Buddy’s mother is enraged. Buddy gets up and tries to get away.

Buddy’s mother goes to grab him by the lapels but he pushes her away. She slaps him hard against the cheek.

BUDDY'S MOTHER: Stand still, boy! You’re such a selfish brat; I can’t believe I’ve looked after you all this time! And this is what you do to me!

Buddy is backed into a corner now and rubs his cheek where he was slapped. He tries to ward his mother off but she lunges for him again. 

Buddy pushes her back hard and she stumbles.

Buddy looks to the make-up table and sees a pair of nail scissors. He brandishes them against her.

BUDDY (in his Buddy puppet voice):That’s it! I can’t stand it anymore! You’re for the wood chipper!

Buddy starts stabbing his mother with the nail scissors. She screams out, falls and blocks the door. Buddy just keeps stabbing. There are knocks on the door from Mr O’Flattery.

MR O'FLATTERY: Hey! What’s going on in there?

BUDDY: I’m just rehearsing for the next show!

MOTHER PUPPET: Oh no you’re not!

BUDDY PUPPET: Shut up! It’s not funny!

BUDDY'S MOTHER (interrupting with a scream):Help! He’s really killing me!

BUDDY: Shut up! Why won’t you fucking die!

Mr O’Flattery tries pushing the door but Buddy’s mother is still blocking it.

MR O'FLATTERY: I’m getting the police!

BUDDY PUPPET: You’re for it now!

CUT TO:

INT. OUTSIDE THE DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT

The police are outside the dressing room. They pound on the door.

BUDDY PUPPET VOICE: I told you! I’m rehearsing!

POLICE: Open up, or else we’ll have to break down the door.

Buddy opens the door. He stands to one side. The police walk in. There is a large suitcase in the corner. There is a trail of  blood leading to it. The suitcase is almost closed. Arms and legs protrude from it.

BUDDY: Look at it this way. I’ve got perfect material for the comeback!

FADE OUT:

Busman's Holiday

“The wheels on the bus go round and round” until Mr Sachs walked onboard and held the passengers and driver hostage. It was later that everyone else went “wah wah wah”.

1974: A Croatian flight attendant  survived a mid-air explosion in a 747 over Czechoslovakia. The plane broke apart at 33,000 ft and, trapped inside the tail section of the fuselage, she plummeted to earth with a food cart pinning her to the floor of the plane. It was this which saved her, acting like a seat belt. The fuselage struck a heavily wooded, snow covered mountain slope at just the right angle which cushioned the impact. In a later interview she stated that she felt she had been protected the whole time.

19.45. Thomas sits in the back of the bus, admiring Lynda. A distant but oh, so close yearning.  All the way from Midhurst to Guildford. Building up confidence to talk to her. But there could only be a few stops before she got out. The bus was pulling into the Park And Ride. Now or never. 

Mr Sachs had other ideas.  He calmly waits on the pavement by the bus stop. He doesn’t even wait for the other passengers to get off. His intentions perfectly clear.  And when the driver looks to the source of the disturbance he becomes face to face with an old comrade and a new threat..

“Frank… what’s up?”

“Shut the fucking doors”. Frank Sachs replies, pointing the gun at him. He  looks to the frightened passengers. There are ten people on the bus. It had been a long day for most of them and all were anxious to be somewhere else.  “Nobody screams or I shoot. It’s that simple.”

There were no screams. But as the first whispers became audible Frank Sachs walks down the corridor to explain the situation.

“It’s very simple.” Frank Sachs explains. “The bastards sacked me today. Apparently I’ve been ill one too many times for their liking and because I’m dispensably pale and single I have no rights. So we’re all going to sit on this bus until I get my job back. It’s very, very simple.”

Frank Sachs walks back to the driver, John Searle. “Did you do it by the book, John?” 

“What do you mean, Frank?”

“Pressed the panic button, of course. It’s what I would have done in your position… if I had a job, that is.”

“Yes, Frank. I did.”

“So you’re going to remain sensible, aren’t you, John?” John nods. Frank Sachs nods with him.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone. But I will.” Frank Sachs looks John in the eye.

“I don’t think you will, Frank. Not with that anyway.” John replies. John thinks he knows Frank. He’d worked with him for years. John knew nothing.

“Which leg do you favor, John?”  John looks at Frank Sachs quixotically. “It’s ok. I know you’re a lefty.” Frank Sachs shoots John in the right knee. “Unlike the movies, John, there is no blood spatter. Neat, isn’t it?” John screams in terror and pain. The rest of the bus respond in sympathetic resonance until Frank Sachs warns them otherwise. “He’s not in any pain. It’s shock. Don’t believe all you see on television.” He turns to John. “That doesn’t look too bad. I guess I missed the artery, John.” Blood oozes from the wound, a crimson oil seepage. “Take your belt off and make a tourniquet. If you’re lucky you’ll survive the night yet!”

Lynda now sits next to Thomas. Thomas is calm, despite the situation, but he just couldn’t tell you why…..

1999: A Swedish medical student lost control skiing down a steep mountain in Norway and fell headfirst into a frozen stream. She became trapped beneath the ice but found a small pocket of air between the water and ice which kept her conscious for 40 minutes before going into cardiac arrest. The rescue team managed to cut her out 80 minutes later. Although clinically dead she was rushed to the University Hospital of North Norway where the Doctors used a heart-lung bypass machine to pump her frozen blood out, warm it up, before cycling it back into her body. The operation  took nine hours, but she woke up with no brain damage. Upon waking she described the feeling of someone watching over her.

20.10. The curse of modern life: nothing is sacred; no privacy. No common sense and no facts,  no informed opinion, just feelings. Things might have turned out differently had it not been for social media. The police were notified sooner than John’s panic button. One of the bus passengers already texted the police. “We are being held hostage by someone with an air pistol. Please help us.!!”  This was before John had been shot. 

The police arrived and surrounded the bus. They demanded Frank Sachs leave the bus. That demand was ignored, as was the demand to release the hostages. It was at this time that the cavalry turned up. The local press had been informed by another passenger; priorities and the chance of fame and notoriety trumped common sense and the desire to stay alive. At least two of the passengers were filming quite openly, cameras held high like beacons mourning self-respect and understanding. Frank Sachs seemed resigned to this and actively played up to this new found audience. His demands had not changed, he just wanted his job back.

Thomas and Lynda can only watch the morons hold their mobiles like sacrificial daggers, exacerbating the situation. Lynda has Thomas’s hand in hers. She could not tell you why except it feels right, as if she’s known him all her life.

1848: Phineas Gage was an American railroad construction foreman. He narrowly avoided a catastrophic brain injury when a 13lb, 3.5ft  tamping rod was blasted through his skull after an accidental explosion. It entered his left cheekbone and exited with such force that it went through the top of his head and landed 30 yards away. Unbelievably he survived this and, despite having a radically changed personality, he lived another 12 years. When asked how he managed to survive such an accident Gage is reported to have said that moments before the explosion he felt someone push him back a couple of steps.

20.20. The police did not take Frank Sachs seriously due to the hostage account regarding the air-pistol. They knew he could do some damage with such a pistol but it was just a waiting game. A base of operations had been set up in the reception area of the Park & Ride complex, near the toilets. No one investigated Frank’s situation, or his family. So when a man was caught trying to ‘break into the bus’ it was assumed he was another hijacker. The police were quick to tackle the man to the ground and use the taser on him when he tried to get up. Frank Sachs saw all this happening in horror. This was his brother, Bryan.

Bryan Sachs had seen everything unfold on the local news and had driven to the Park and Ride as quickly as he could.  He had not counted on such an oppressive police presence and hadn’t thought through the rationality of his actions until after feeling the tasers sting. Yet no matter how he tried explaining his situation no one would listen to him. Things became exacerbated when Frank Sachs personally contacted the police through his mobile phone. 

“Release Bryan or there will be one less hostage to worry about.”

“Frank. You must realise there is nowhere for you to go. We know that it's not a real gun. It’s an air-pistol. We even know what make and model it is… it’s a BRK Brocock Atomic XR!”

Silence on the other end of the line.

“I’ll release one of the hostages. I’ll show you I mean business.”

Lynda wants to be the one released and almost puts her hand up as if she is back in school, waiting to be relieved. Thomas stops her with a squeeze and a knowing gaze that captures her attention and keeps her calm. Her previous anxieties and crippling fear are gone and she watches the events unfold with a cool detachment. The girl with the mobile phone put her hand up and it was as if she had one top prize on a chat show. The crowd was awed by this gesture and everyone in the bus now felt hopeful. Frank Sachs allowed the door to open and waited until the hostage had passed the threshold. He then shot her calmly in the back of the neck, shutting the doors at the same time as her body fell limp, as if its contract had been cut. No one screamed. They could barely breathe.

“It’s no longer just an air-gun… it’s amazing what one can find on YouTube these days.. Like how to convert an air-gun so it can fire real bullets.” Frank Sachs said smugly. “You have two things to do. 1) Let me brother go. 2) Give me my fucking job back!"

Lynda looked at Thomas with incredulity. It could have been her.

20.50. It had never dawned on the police that they could easily have bluffed their way out of the situation. All it would have taken is one call to the bus company. One lie told by the manager. A fake contract drawn up and then once the hostages were released Frank Sachs’s story could have ended. But that isn’t what happened.

The police did comply in releasing Frank's brother but only because they had planned something else quite spectacular. The SWAT team was ready and would go in with smoke grenades, They had already managed contact with another passenger on the bus; so the next step was to smoke him out.Unfortunately the person they had managed to contact was the driver himself and therefore everything he knew about so did Frank Sachs.

1985: A British climber tried climbing down the 634 meter Sivla Grande in the Peruvian Andes during a blizzard. He slipped on a frozen cliff edge and plummeted 20 meters into a crevasse, landing on a frail snowbridge. He managed to probe deeper and deeper into the crevasse and eventually found a small opening onto the glacier. Over the next 3 days he was without food or water and suffered from intense hallucinations before finally being rescued.  One voice was constant through those hallucinatory times; it was one that told him to keep going, that everything was going to be alright…. And it was.

21.30. By using the smoke canisters, the assumption was that all the passengers would be on the floor, having been told to do so by the informant on the bus. Anyone left standing up would therefore be Frank Sachs and could be eliminated. The police shot a few windows out, threw smoke canisters inside before operating the ‘driver release’ handle on the side of the bus, next to the main door. The door popped open and they saw a silhouette of a man standing by the steering wheel. They took no chances and simply opened fire on the prone body. The body slumped onto the instrument panel. In the bus the other passengers remained deathly quiet. Two policemen walked to the body but neither of them had a chance to inspect it before they were both shot in the head by Frank Sachs.

Lynda wanted to scream and would have done it if not for Thomas. There was a serene look in his eyes. With a squeeze of his hand he motioned for her to be calm. And then he got out of his seat and walked behind Frank Sachs just as the smoke was lifting.

2001: The Canadian was used to scaling skyscrapers and was totally unprepared when he freescaled up the left wall of the Red River Gorge. It could have been, and should have been, a fatal miscalculation and he found himself stranded. The nearest handhold was completely out of his physical reach and his forearms were too full of lactic acid for him to climb back down. He felt a nudge to try something desperate; he knew he would make it: he released his grip entirely and launched himself upward into the air and caught the distant edge with his fingers and held on. Suffice to say he survived and made it back downstairs to tell the tale.

21.31. Frank Sachs heard a noise behind him. He was too preoccupied to understand what was  happening; he was now operating on adrenaline. He got up and turned to see what had made the noise. He was shocked to see Thomas walking slowly towards him with a beatific smile on his face. Frank Sachs first reaction was to shoot him dead but his hand was jolted by something as he fired. It was this muzzle flash that finally gave the snipers outside the bus something to target. Three of them took the fatal shot. Frank Sachs fell dead. Thomas had already fallen on the floor just seconds before the snipers opened fire. But to everyone else it must have seemed that Thomas had been shot multiple times at the same time as Frank Sachs.

Lynda rushed to his side, sobbing with confused emotions. Her life was now inextricably bound to this stranger. Less than three hours ago they had been two disparate people and now he had sacrificed his life for hers. Thomas heard Lynda’s sobs and opened his eyes. Despite the pain he looked into her eyes and smiled. “I’m absolutely starving. When this is all over how about a kebab?”

1999 : A disgruntled bus driver takes a bus and its passengers hostage for three hours with a converted air-pistol. Through poor communications and mis-understandings at least three people are killed. Just as things seem hopeless one of the passengers distracts the hijacker and almost pays the price.  By a pure fluke of fate the shot goes wild and rather than shoot him in the face the bullet goes right through the shoulder, missing all the major arteries. The passenger survives and jokes that his actions were down to a momentary lapse of reason. When pushed he states that he felt someone with him, guiding his actions. Eight months later he is married to the passenger next to him on the bus. That, he stated, was the real miracle.

What would you do?

I used to think that I was boring. The truth would have been far more complex had I not accepted my gift. I could put people to sleep by just talking to them.

For years, especially throughout my more formative years at school, I just thought I was the most asinine of children; everyone always yawned within minutes of talking to me. I thought I was bright and interesting with lots of things to say, it’s just that no one could stay alert when listening. The yawning and nodding off started within a minute of me talking. No one made the connection, luckily, but I certainly did. I was a sensitive child and was very careful not to talk to many people. It was also lucky that I didn’t really have much to say for myself; I was a loner, even back then.

It wasn’t too pronounced until I hit puberty and then the effect became more intense. No one dared argue with me; and still no one put two and two together. I suppose it’s quite a leap of the imagination to say that I was the source of everyone's lethargy. Soon it became obvious that I didn’t really need to say much at all to have an impact. When I turned 18 I realised that I could work from home and found a job doing telemarketing to start with, but I soon understood that I didn’t have to be within close proximity of people to affect them. I then tried becoming one of the 0800 sex-line models. I made so much money on those calls initially, the company who employed me thought I was an absolute marvel to start with -my calls were the longest they’d ever had, and every minute was a premium rate. The calls were so long because all the women had fallen asleep a few seconds of ringing me!That fell through though when the complaints came in.

I tried talking to the Doctors about my condition but that didn’t get me anywhere either. I could make an appointment via text or email but the moment I tried visiting the Doctor the same thing happened. It didn’t matter how detailed my email was, no one seemed to believe me! I soon gave up trying to talk to people and living like a recluse seemed to suit me.

One day I took one of my regular jaunts up the town to catch up on my weekly shop. I had figured out that I could write my instructions on a small dry-wipe board using a marker and mime to people that I couldn’t speak to them. It was surprising how effective that was; most people were very understanding and even had a go on my whiteboard -the amount of times I lost playing tic-tac-toe was embarrassing.

Then Amelia let me win, but I should have known better. She knew what the whiteboard was for and her need was actually genuine. In some ways our should have been a match in heaven. She was deaf and had been since birth.

She read lips and nothing I said made her feel drowsy or made her pass out, or sick to the stomach… She even encouraged me to speak my mind, especially when we were on our own. Whether her deafness lent her an elusive quality, I’m not sure, but she felt ethereal to me; too good to be true (which, of course, she would be). She had long waterfull hair, blond and translucent in the morning sun. Her eyes were like diamonds on a moonlit night. I could finally wax lyrical; become as literary as I wanted. Her kisses tasted of lychee and her tongue was teasing and gentle.

She was fascinated by my talent, as she called it; and loved to see me practice it on people. She thought it was a gift as well, could be used to distract and dissuade; break up arguments and dissolve tricky situations. Her favorite trick was introducing me to her parents. She delighted in watching me be really polite and obsequious to them only for them to blanch upon falling asleep. They would then apologise profusely to Amelia and promise her the stars on a stick. Amelia would play on their guilt and blame them for all sorts of foulness over the years. This was her chance to get her own back; and I could see no reason why not. I was so topsy over her that I wasn’t thinking straight -passionless sex will do that. Not that I knew the difference. She was purely going through the motions with me; her groans were more out of her inability to vocalise articulately rather than being in the throes of ecstasy.

Nor did I think anything of us visiting her older sister. She pretended that I was deaf initially to get us in the door; and her sister seemed very shocked to see her; especially with me standing next to her. Amelia could sign but chose not to; she used her own whiteboard to deliberately annoy people -which she was doing now. In actuality her speaking voice was pretty damn clear and coherent for someone who had been deaf from birth; she had been tenacious in becoming proficient in it -she just didn’t allow the majority of people know about it. Her parents and sister were among those who were not in the know. 

Ten minutes of mounting sororal annoyance Amelia finally said, “My sister is getting het up again,.., why don’t you put her at ease?” So I finally introduced myself to her. The shock and dismay was soon overtaken by the yawns and eventual somnambulism. Amelia clapped her hands in glee and told me to go back to the car and get the engine running.

This was strange but I did as I was told; went outside into the chill morning and into the car to get the engine ticking over. I felt as if I’d just helped rob a bank. Five minutes later Amelia walked out the front door, almost skipping, carrying a plastic bag. She opened the car door and put the bag in the well next to me, slipped in and shut the door, but not before kissing me suggestively on the cheek -slipping a bit of tongue as if tasting me,

We drove home in silence.

I didn’t need to ask what she’d done. I slyly looked into the bag on the way home and noticed jewelry, lots of it .  “She stole it from me. It should all have been mine but she was always daddy’s favorite… You should have seen the way they judged you! It’s alright, she’ll never do anything about it -who would believe her?”

It was my turn to keep quiet. What was going on? I wasn’t the brightest of the bunch; a match who had been struck prematurely; but even I was pondering on whether Amelia was using me for some reason. My subconscious must have been leaking for Amelia confronted me once we returned to her flat.

“I know you must think me wicked, but I need that money… For years I’ve wanted to hear… I know it sounds corny but you can’t understand how much I’ve always wanted to… Well, there’s such a thing as a cochlear implant -and no, it’s nothing to do with having an penis enlargement!” I shrugged. “Mommy and daddy never wanted me to have it; they always gave their money to baby sister… but now it's mine.”

Sure enough, after selling the jewelry via a few pawnbrokers she finally had enough to afford the implant. For a couple of weeks the Doctors said that she was doing brilliantly and she pushed for the early activation of it as there was virtually no swelling. I was there when it was switched on and all the arguments had been worth it upon seeing her eyes light up after hearing something for the very first time. To be fair, it wasn’t my voice, obviously, just the doctor counting to ten, but it was the mere fact that it worked. It would take around another three months, probably longer, of speech therapy, listening exercises and auditory mapping of the nerves and fine tuning, It was an intense time to be sure. She became very tenacious, very demanding of me and she was in constant discomfort, which meant that we could no longer share a bed together, I understood… of course I did.

She did occasionally ask for me to speak to her, but only at the end of the day if she was in too much pain, I acted as the perfect anesthetic to her. And I obliged. I knew that I was in a loving relationship and she would have done exactly the same for me.

Three months later her sister got in contact with her again; going so far as to turn up unannounced. She wouldn’t even look me in the eye, she was that mad. There was a huge row; her sister had finally tumbled what had happened and knew that her jewels had become the down payment for Amelia’s operation. She hadn’t told the parents yet but would do unless certain conditions were met….

I could tell that Amelia was threatened by this and there was a very good chance that she could become violent. I had never liked confrontations and did my best to break this one up. There was no point me signing so I found our communal white board and suggested a compromise. Yes, the money had been for the operation but it was only because it was so important to Amelia. Now it had been successful we would do our best to pay it back over time, Amelia agreed to this immediately, which surprised me… And her sister agreed as well and by way of an apology, Amelia suggested that we all go out for a meal the next day. 

We were going to take a taxi to the new Chinese that had just opened, and that should have been the first warning bell. We picked her up in the taxi. I was already wearing my seat belt but Amelia helped her sister with hers. Whilst on the dual carriageway we overtook lots of cars, the driver eager to earn Amelia’s tip. Amelia casually asked me to help her with her auditory exercises.I agreed without thinking and she joked with her sister that she had me well-trained.

It wasn’t noticeable at first, I thought the driver was simply nodding his head to the radio, but there was no music on. I was still speaking slowly and methodically so Amelia could hear me and I saw her sister slump and suddenly realised what was happening. I looked back at Amelia and was puzzled to see her relaxed, coveting a smile and a glint in her eye. The driver slumped forward but quickly regained his balance and tried desperately to stay awake. I had stopped speaking but it was too late now, the steering wheel slipped out of his grasp and there was nothing he could. His full weight was on the car horn, like a death knell, as the taxi jack-knifed, slamming into the partition before careening into the oncoming traffic. I couldn’t see what happened next but I was the only one still awake amongst the wreckage.

Both Amelia and I survived; our seat belts had held. We were battered and bruised and in some degree of pain but we were ok. The taxi driver was dead; dead upon impact. Amelia’s sister was crumpled like a pile of rags; her seat belt had failed completely. She too was dead. It was clear that I had been used to effectively murder Amelia’s sister; there could be no doubt about it. However to everyone else we were victims of death by fatigued driving.

We spent hours at the police station; obviously both of us had to go right to the written statement. Amelia explained that her cochlear implants had failed and I just lied my guts out. No one would have believed the truth anyway. It was then that I formulated my plan. I had to get out of the relationship anyway I could.

That night we argued; this time with something more genuine and fraught than most nights. I think Amelia just enjoyed the sound of her own voice too much now. I found it grating and hostile. I asked her when she would allow me access to her beautiful body again, to which she just laughed. I now knew she had been stringing me on for months; she’d gotten exactly what she wanted and would probably dump me before too long. 

I took her by surprise and managed to pin her arms behind her back whilst finding her implant. I’d spent so long helping her out with the fine-tuning that I knew exactly how it worked. I turned it on, and turned it up. 

“I love you so much, baby.” I said. “You’re mine now.” And with a groan of disgust and defeat her eyes closed.

Yes… I tied her up. Yes, I turned her implant to maximum and when she woke up she was horrified to find herself naked. And so was I. I started whispering as I made love to her. Each time she started to drowse off I’d stop and allow her to gain consciousness again. I kept this up for hours; an hour for each of the stinking months that she kept me strung up and used me; making me accomplice to her crimes; her lies; her degenerate life. This was payback. I did nothing to her that I hadn’t done before but I also knew that I had crossed a line. The deaths could not be pinned on me -the sister and that poor, unfortunate taxi-driver.. But she could easily testify against me now and nothing I said would make any difference. She looked at me and understood exactly what I was going to do.

With the implant still on maximum I started to sing to her. I knew her favorite song in recent months had been ‘Don’t Stop Me Now’ by Queen and it was rather apt for it to be used as an eulogy. This would surely puzzle the coroner as there was no real way of determining her death -sleeping sickness, perhaps? I didn’t care. She had enough money in the flat to get a full tank of petrol. The moral line had been firmly crossed now -it was so far behind me that it looked like a dot. There was nothing stopping me from getting what I wanted when I wanted it. A robbery here; a bit of comfort there…. I mean, if you were in my position what would you do?

Time of the month

1)

I was in a quandary; it was the wrong time of the month and yet if I didn’t act upon my impulses Simon could quite literally get away and I couldn’t have that; he was far too delicious looking. He wasn’t my normal sort; thinner, more bookish than normal but there was something vulnerable about him that made me want to mother him before…. well; teach him about the birds and bees. I met him at one of those dreadful speed-dating events. It was a new town for me and I needed a quick fix and this seemed to be the best avenue. My hopes weren’t high and I really just wanted something to tide me over.

Meeting Simon changed all that; he seemed far too innocent to just waste on a cheap thrill. He seemed captivated by me; but then that was quite unfair on my behalf, he never really stood a chance. He was thin, rakish, more like Harold Lloyd, even down to the same glasses -I even made the comparison upon chatting to him but he had never even heard of that glorious silent-cinema comedian… but then why would he? (I had to be careful here; I was letting my excitement make me tongue tied, like a smitten teenager and I was far too experienced for that!) The speed date with him went far too quickly and when the time finally ended I just wrote my name and number on the palm of his hand in slow, luxuriant strokes. I felt his eyes on me for the rest of the night and just bathed in his gaze. He was going to be one to savor for sure… 

But that did mean I had to sate myself with something else and, luckily, Rob ended up being the ideal candidate. He was totally unremarkable; a wise guy, always talking about himself..He smelt very heavily of cheap aftershave and the grease in his air looked like an environmental disaster.. But beggars can’t always be choosers. He was very easy to lay claim to and never seemed to bat an eyelid until the very last moment, but by then it was far too late. 

I thought of Simon the whole time.

2)

Simon rang me two days after the speed dating. He was very hesitant when he rang and I gave him my sexy, full bodied voice. Rob was proving to be very difficult to forget -like acid reflux, he just wouldn’t leave me alone. I wanted to see Simon though -the longer I left things the more chance there was that he would lose interest or I had to move towns again. I could only stay in one place for so long. I felt bloated and sore but if I likened it to the time of the month then I’m sure Simon would understand. I had to take the chance with him; I’m sure whatever happened I would be able to deal with it.

We arranged to meet that evening; go out for a small meal and then… well, I knew what my plans were going to be. I only hoped that I would be feeling better by then. 

Six hours later and I felt quite a bit better; I still felt tender in places and had an upset tummy still. I also felt nauseated now but couldn’t pass up the opportunity that presented itself. I met Simon at the local pizza restaurant and sat down to a really nice meal. I explained to him that I was on the ‘time of the month’ and he tried his best not to blanche. I had him pegged at being single a long time as most men just ignored such a sentiment rather than blanching so noticeably. He was very sweet afterwards and didn’t comment about me eating only a small green salad. I said that normally my appetite was far more.. insatiable and I smiled at him. He blushed… Oh, I was so going to enjoy him!

He offered to drive me home and, of course, I accepted. I asked him if he minded helping me to my front door as I was still feeling a little faint (a pure lie, of course) and then invited him in. He was very reticent, walked in and sat in the middle of my plush sofa, with his legs tightly touching and both hands grasping his knees for all that they were worth.

I took my coat off and showed off my purple dress which was tight-fitting in the right places and 

long flowing like a lilac waterfall. I sat next to him and almost regretted it as my tummy felt very sensitive to the touch. I still felt bloated and would normally just lie on my bed until it subsided; however I knew that I couldn’t do that here.

There was just something about Simon; I had to have him but I had to be careful -I still felt rather sensitive. Perhaps if I was gentle, found a way to.. tenderise him first... I knew that I only had a limited window of opportunity to act; he was a flight risk. I knew that he found me attractive but probably thought of me out of his depth and if he left tonight then he would probably never want to see me again and I just couldn't countenance that.

I faced him and smiled. "Don't be shy, Simon... It's ok, I know you like me."

He blushed... bless him, he actually blushed. "Well... that's true. I do like you but I really don't know what I'm doing here... I'm not sure I'm good at ... relations."

"Relations? is that what you call it?" I laughed, but in a seductive way. He was so sweet, I didn't want to hurt him in any way. "Why not call it sex? Making love... Is that what you'd like to do with me?"

"If I knew how then I would be all over you, I'm sure... but I don't want to waste your time; you'd only be disappointed with me." He moved to get up, I could see that he was actually being quite candid with me.

"What if I told you that none of that mattered to me? What you just told me is so important and means that I can be so gentle with you... I could teach you so much, Simon; if you just opened up and let me." I moved closer to him and let him feel my breath on his neck and face. He blinked and licked his lips. He sat back down, and I leaned closer to him still. "Lovemaking is something that's best savored; taken slow. Do you want that? Do  you want me, Simon? Because I want you..." What happened next caught me by completely by surprise.

 3)

It was like a cork being shot out of a bottle after so much pressure had been building up; I was totally unprepared for it... He was like a different person; unfettered. He suddenly caught a glimpse of his own libido and embraced it. Simon pushed me back on to the sofa and followed, his mouth seeking mine; his tongue flowing into mine. It was so unexpected and did so much to get my juices flowing.... however he was a little too enthusiastic and pushed too hard into my abdominal region. What happened next was so regrettable and all I can see is the look of horror on his face .

It was disgusting, truly and I did everything I could to stop it... To be honest, there wasn't that much left of him but it meant dislocating my jaws in order to regurgitate what was left of the body -just a few of the larger bones; the gristly and hairy bits (I hate the hairy bits!) Rob was still only partially digesting from the day before, which was causing the cramps; but Simon was too important to me. I felt so ashamed and felt sorry for Simon as well; I truly did want to take him to the heights of heaven before eating him. The colour had drained from his face and his mouth was open so much it was like a caricature. I quickly closed my mandibles and smoothed the skin over. Normally I would have reverted to my normal form but I just couldn't. I still felt bad for him....

"I'm so sorry; you were never meant to see that..."

"Were you going to eat me too?" He whispered, trying to regain whatever sanity remained in such a situation. I nodded. "But not before fucking me?" I smiled to myself; it seemed that something had come from tonight; Simon had found a bit of strength after all. Such a shame it would come to nothing. I nodded again, with a sad smile. "But now you're... just going to eat me."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it to happen like this... ."

"But why? Why did you want to sleep with me?"

"As strange as it sounds, I like you... Really like you. I wanted to take you to heaven before you 

died. Normally I just kill without hesitation but I wanted to show you the best time of your life, as only I could have done... but..."

"But what?" Simon replied, hesitating. "I mean... as you were going to kill me anyway.... is that heaven thing totally off the menu?"  I knew there was a reason why I really liked him....