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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/897460-Allentown
Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Tragedy · #897460
A lively screenplay about two men living in the most dull city in America.
INT. - CHICAGO CAFE - MORNING

A man dressed in almost complete black, ALLEN BANAGHER, sits down at one of the booths meant for four or five people.

ALLEN
Where the hell are they?

A waitress who seems to know him, JASMINE, passes by and asks him what he’d like.

JASMINE
What’s up, Alley, boy?

ALLEN
It’s just like you to ask that. And before I’ve had my coffee.

JASMINE
So, is it a special day or a mocha day?

ALLEN
Are my days ever special?

JASMINE
I meant what kind of coffee are you ordering,Geez! And of coarse your days are special. (Looking around) Where are those clowns anyway?

ALLEN
If I knew that, I’d tell you. But I don’t, so you can run along and get me my mocha.

A short, attractive man enters the cafe, apparently looking for someone. Before he can find them, Allen speaks. His name is Malcolm.

ALLEN (CONT’D)
Where have you been?

MALCOLM
(Playfully) None of your fucking business.

ALLEN
Temper, temper. Where the hell are Nathaniel and Uma?

MALCOLM
As in, like, Uma Thurman?

ALLEN
As if. Uma Crayon.

MALCOLM
(Sitting down) Who’s she?

ALLEN
Some bitch interested in our comic, that’s who.

MALCOLM
WHAT?

ALLEN
You heard me, asshole.

MALCOLM
Nobody in their right mind would be interested in my comic.

ALLEN
You’re right. No one in their right mind would be interested in YOUR comic. Thankfully, you have my input in this matter. (Under his breath) Where would you be without me?

MALCOLM
Why, speak of the devil. Or at least one of them.
Jasmine approaches Allen's table with the mocha in her hand.

ALLEN
What?

MALCOLM
It’s Jasmine.
ALLEN
I don’t smell anything.

MALCOLM
The waitress, you jerkoff.

ALLEN
Thanks to you, I don’t have to do that anymore. (Leaning over and giving Malcolm a small kiss on the cheek.)

Jasmine clears her throat, clearly disgusted by the subject matter.


JASMINE
Jee, so sorry to interrupt the sex talk, but I have your mocha....You know, I was thinking. You’re not supposed to drink coffee on an empty stomach. And, you don’t know Uma Thurman, do you?

ALLEN
Wish I did.

JASMINE
Well, she called you.

ALLEN
Sorry, that’s Uma Crayon.

JASMINE
There’s more than one person named Uma?

ALLEN
Apparently.

JASMINE
Weird. (Taking a sip of Allen’s mocha)

ALLEN
Honestly, I don’t care. As long as she’s still interested in publishing my comic.

JASMINE
(Taking another sip of Allen’s mocha.) That’s great!

ALLEN
(Realizing that she’s been sipping his coffee all this time.) Excuse me, miss Jasmine, (Grabbing her by the middle button on her uniform and dragging her closer, causing her to spill mocha on the fabric of his fancy, black pants.), Are you drinking my coffee?

JASMINE
(Pulling away) Who says it’s yours?

ALLEN
Then go and GET mine. And... (Noticing the splotch on his pants) A new pair of pants!

Jasmine retreats to her work. Allen reaches over to the other side of the table, near Malcolm, and grabs a napkin. Before he can pull his hand back toward himself to wipe off his pants, Malcolm grabs him by the wrist.

ALLEN (CONT’D)
What? Hurry up; I can feel cold mocha sinking into my crotch.

MALCOLM
(Softly giggling) Nothing.
ALLEN
(Wiping up his pants, delicately, disgustedly), You’re weird, know that?

While they’ve been saying these last two things, a tall, suave gentleman, NATHANIEL, walks into the cafe. He looks like he might have been a pimp in his past life, but he has a kind face.

ALLEN (CONT’D)
NATHAN! Your ass (pointing to the space on the booth next to him) here!

NATHANIEL
(Smiling, taking his seat.)

ALLEN
Have you heard? I’m going to be-

NATHANIEL
(Softly, still smiling.) Published?

ALLEN
Yeah.
Jasmine approaches with a new mocha for Allen, setting it down without speaking, and leaving.

NATHANIEL
What’s wrong with her?

ALLEN
I’m not straight. By the way, how’d you know?

NATHANIEL
A little birdy whose last name is Crayon told me.

MALCOLM
(Playfully) How often do you see these birdies, mister Daniels?

NATHANIEL
(Chuckling nonchalantly) As often as they have something to say.

ALLEN
(Almost acting ignored) My, my, my! Look at the time. Got to fly, boys.

MALCOLM
But, isn’t Uma supposed to-?

ALLEN
Well, it’s almost 10:00, and she hasn’t, so maybe not. (Kissing Malcolm) See you tonight?

MALCOLM
Sure.

Allen departs. Nathaniel reaches over the table and retrieves Allen’s untouched Mocha. He begins to sip it when-

MALCOLM (CONT’D)
Don’t even think about it, asshole.
Malcolm looks after Allen dreamily.

INT. - ALLEN’S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT

Allen sits on his small couch. The house is small and humble, but you get the impression that Allen wishes he had money for more. It’s perfectly neat, and the furniture is pushing the limits of what Allen can afford. Allen looks almost upset, sipping the beer in his hand. In a bottle, of coarse, not a can.
A knock on the door is heard. Allen know’s it’s Malcolm without any other hint.
MALCOLM
Allen? Allen?! Let me in.
Allen closes his eyes, but just when you think he’ll fall asleep
ALLEN
It’s unlocked, numbskull.
MALCOLM
(Opening the door) I was thinking we could work on the comic, if you’re feeling up to it.
ALLEN
What’s the point? We’re not even published.
MALCOLM
(Ignoring him) Did you come up with any new story ideas?
ALLEN
Yeah, I think the lead character should get stoned and experience the wonders of suicide.
MALCOLM
Jesus, you’re depressing.
ALLEN
I should be. I’ve been wasting my life on shit.
MALCOLM
I am not shit!
ALLEN
I wasn’t talking about you.
MALCOLM
(Sitting down) Then what the hell are you talking about?
ALLEN
The comic, everything else I’ve ever done with my life. Not, (Lifting himself up), That it’s any of your business.
MALCOLM
Of coarse it’s my business. I love you.
ALLEN
I know.
Allen kisses Malcolm, and Malcolm deepens the kiss.
ALLEN (CONT’D)
Cut it out. (Getting up), We got to work on that goddamn comic.
Malcolm smiles knowingly.
INT. - CHICAGO CAFE - MORNING
Jasmine is busy as a woman who is very tall and dark approaches her. The woman is Uma Crayon.
UMA
Excuse me, but do you know Allen Banagher and Malcolm David?
JASMINE
You Uma?
UMA
Yes.
JASMINE
(Holding out her hand) I’m Jasmine. Those two come in here every morning right about... now. (Looking to the door as she hears the bells and lo and behold)-
Allen and Malcolm walk in the door with a small jingling of bells. Jasmine walks over to them, ignoring Uma.
JASMINE (CONT’D)
I see you’ve come in together. Which means... you came together?
ALLEN
Got that right. (Spotting Uma) UMA!
Uma walks over to Allen and shakes his hand.
ALLEN (CONT’D)
Please, take a seat. ( Allen points to a spot on the same booth as the day before.)
UMA
No thank you, Mr. Banagher. I have to catch a flight back to New York soon. I just wanted to tell you. We’ve decided not to publish your comic.
ALLEN
Why?
Allen had truly believed that this would be his big break. He looks crushed, but his pride won’t let him show it tremendously. Malcolm behind him is on the point of tears. We cut to a slice of the future with-
INT. - ALLEN’S BALCONY - NIGHT
Allen stands, cigarette in mouth, on his pathetic-but- existent balcony. He hears the whistle of a nearby train taking goods from town into cities. The song ALLENTOWN starts.
INT. - CHICAGO CAFE - MORNING
It’s the same morning Uma told Allen the news. We pick up where we left off.
ALLEN
You flew all the way to Pennsylvania to tell me you won’t publish.
UMA
Mr.Banagher, I had full intentions to publish your comic; until I SAW Allentown.
Allen looks puzzled. Malcolm leaves through the cafe door. We don’t see the expression on his face.
EXT. - CHICAGO CAFE - MORNING
Malcolm shivers in the cold morning air without a jacket or coat.
MALCOLM
Every time you think something’s going to happen... What is this!? A PRISON? (Kicks the ground) Damn it!
INT. - CHICAGO CAFE - MOMENTS LATER
UMA
Nobody in Allentown is going to buy this comic (laughing). It’s too much money to take this out of state. I’m sorry. Tell Mr. David that.
Uma walks out with the jingling of the cafe door. Allen numbly nods. Allen looks as if he could do one of two things; cry or yell.
ALLEN
(At the top of his lungs) Of all the fucked up reasons! RACIST!
Jasmine hears him and walks over to him, pulling him by his coat to the booth and forcing him to sit down.
JASMINE
(Sitting next to him, lighting a cigarette) It’s not her fault, you know? It’s just the way business is. She was thinkin’ about business.
ALLEN
She was THINKING about herself. Goddamn selfish bitch.
JASMINE
So were you. Everybody’s just looking out for themselves in the end.
ALLEN
How do I get out of my town?
JASMINE
(Laughing) You could request as a death wish to be buried in, like, Chicago or wherever.
ALLEN
(Sharply) Don’t you have WORK to do or whatever?!
JASMINE
(Getting up) As a matter of fact, Mr. Baragher, I do. Asshole.
Jasmine attends to her work, and Malcolm returns through the cafe door. He stands in the entrance as if the rest of the world doesn’t exist.
EXT. - ALLEN’S BALCONY - THAT NIGHT
Allen stands on his balcony, the smoke from his cigarette fogging our view of him. Once the smoke clears, we see that Malcolm is lying next to him, looking dreamy and talking as he looks.
MALCOLM
Since when do you smoke, Allen?
ALLEN
Now seems as good a time as any to take up a habit. (Talking in a fake ‘dude’ college accent) Want a hit, Malc?
MALCOLM
(Giggling) Fuck no. Down with dope, up with hope!
ALLEN
(Softly) It’s a cigarette, man.
MALCOLM
Oh.
There is a silence, where Allen crawls on his hands and knees over to Malcolm and kisses him, telling him everything he wouldn’t dare say with words with his lips.

(AN: I had a very hard time formating this. I'm not sure it's even ledgible. Please don't review telling me that it's formated wrong. Trust me, I know. If you know how I can improve the formating, by all means, tell me!)

© Copyright 2004 Robert Hunt (robhunt at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/897460-Allentown