Living Space
Page 1
Library e-Book : 978-1-5384-7310-8
Trade e-Book : 978-1-5384-7311-5
This digital document has been produced by Nord Compo.
CHARACTERS:
ANNOUNCER
NARRATOR
MARCUS – AN N.Y. HANDYMAN WITH ARTISTIC ASPIRATIONS.
MR WINKLER – INFINITELY SAD AND IMPOSSIBLE TO READ.
DEREK WEATHERS
FRANCINE SPINETTI
MUSIC:
FANGORIA THEME
ANNOUNCER:
You can run but you can’t hide. It’s far too late for that. Welcome to the dark side, where the night never ends – as Fangoria presents... Dreadtime Stories. With your host, Malcolm McDowell.
NARRATOR:
A wise man once said “Time is the fire in which we all burn”. You may find yourself regretting all the years that passed by so quickly when you’re mere seconds from death. But please don’t take my word for it...
SOUND:
THRU TO THE APARTMENT IN WHICH MOST OF THE ACTION WILL TAKE PLACE. NO STREET SOUNDS CAN BE HEARD, FOR REASONS WHICH BECOME CLEAR LATER. MARCUS IS BRUSHING A PIECE OF WALLPAPER DOWN.
MARCUS:
(AS HE WORKS) “O Spartan dog,
More fell than anguish, hunger, or the sea!
Look on the tragic loading of this bed;
This is thy work: the object poisons sight.”
WINKLER:
(SLIGHTLY OFF-MIC) How’s it coming, Marcus?
MARCUS:
You mean the acting or the redecorating?
WINKLER:
Which do you think?
MARCUS:
Pretty much finished. Just papered the last wall.
SOUND:
MARCUS DROPS HIS BRUSH INTO A PLASTIC BUBBLE.
WINKLER:
I think I see a bubble.
MARCUS:
Probably. You didn’t exactly give me much time, Mr Winkler, you had me check the hydraulics, too and that took a while.
WINKLER:
And you did check the hydraulics.
MARCUS:
Yep. You’re back up to full power. Wham, bam, thank-you, ma’am.
SOUND:
HE SLAPS HIS HANDS TOGETHER.
MARCUS:
(A SICK LAUGH)
WINKLER:
That’s good to know. The apartment has to be ready for Monday.
MARCUS:
Monday, huh? Faster than usual. You escalating?
WINKLER:
I don’t know what you mean by that.
MARCUS:
It’s something I heard on Criminal Minds.
WINKLER:
You watch too much television, Marcus.
MARCUS:
(SARCASTIC) Yeah, I should really find a more wholesome way of passing the time. You got any recommendations?
WINKLER:
That’s very amusing. Do I smell bleach?
MARCUS:
A little. I can only dilute it so much. I’d say open a window, but, y’know... You might want to put a fan on in here, air the place out a little.
WINKLER:
Speaking of which, I notice you always wedge the door open.
SOUND:
WINKLER KICKS THE WEDGE.
WINKLER:
That’s really not necessary, you know.
MARCUS:
Well, I’d hate to get accidentally locked in here. I’m claustrophobic.
WINKLER:
Really? I’ve often been told this apartment is unusually roomy.
MARCUS:
Yeah, and I like to think of it as deceptively cramped. Know what I mean?
WINKLER:
I know exactly what you mean. So you’re done?
MARCUS:
Yeah, just let me get my stuff together.
SOUND:
AS HE TALKS, HE PICKS UP HIS TOOLS AND PUTS THEM AWAY.
MARCUS:
By the way, I re-attached the doorknob to the “bathroom” again...
WINKLER:
Excellent.
MARCUS:
But it won’t hold forever.
WINKLER:
It doesn’t have to.
MARCUS:
Fine. I’m just saying, sooner or later, we’re going to have to replace the whole door.
WINKLER:
When that day comes, Marcus, I know I can rely on you.
MARCUS:
Thanks. Oh, hey, I found the key.
SOUND:
HE PRODUCES THE KEY.
MARCUS:
It’s in pretty bad shape –.
WINKLER:
I have others. Drop it down a storm drain on your way home.
MARCUS:
No problem. (A SLIGHT PAUSE) You know, I’ve never asked you why you do it.
WINKLER:
Because you know I’ll never tell you.
MARCUS:
That’s all right by me. ’Kay, that’s it. I’m outta here.
WINKLER:
Good luck with the audition tonight.
MARCUS:
Thanks, but I ain’t too hopeful. If a man of my age ain’t made it yet, odds are he never will.
WINKLER:
You should be more optimistic, Marcus.
MARCUS:
Optimistic? I’m the only guy in Manhattan who knows what goes on in this place, except for you of course, and you expect me to be optimistic? Never gonna happen, Winkler.
WINKLER:
Mr Winkler.
MARCUS:
(HE HAS A CIGARETTE BETWEEN HIS LIPS) Fine, whatever.
SOUND:
HE FLICKS HIS LIGHTER.
WINKLER:
And please don’t smoke.
MARCUS:
You’re the boss.
WINKLER:
Yes, I am.
MARCUS:
You know, there’s this guy in one of the CSIs – I forget which one – and he’s about as talented as your average dinner theater actor. But he’s got this.
WINKLER:
And what’s “this”?
MARCUS:
This - the face, and the teeth, y’know? Watching him makes me angry. I mean it – it actually makes me physically angry.
WINKLER:
Perhaps you should use that anger in your performance.
MARCUS:
You know, that’s actually a good idea. Anyways, if it doesn’t work out, I got another option.
WINKLER:
Oh?
MARCUS:
Yeah, I got the idea from that show.
WINKLER:
The one that makes you so angry.
MARCUS:
Mm-hm. You know the police hire these guys – private contractors – to clean up crime scenes, mop up all the gore and shit?
WINKLER:
I didn’t know that.
MARCUS:
Oh, yeah – and there’s money in it, too.
WINKLER:
And you learned that on the television.
MARCUS:
TV’s never steered me wrong yet. Maybe I should go for it. I figure I walk into the nearest precinct house, tell them all about what I do for you, how many popped eyeballs I scooped up – after a while, they’re begging me to work for them.
WINKLER:
Do you think that’s really likely?
MARCUS:
Hell, no. I think they’d charge me with accessory after the fact and fry my ass.
WINKLER:
And mine too, don’t you think?
MARCUS:
(SLIGHTLY UNEASY) Uh, yeah. I guess so.
WINKLER:
As always, I’m very grateful to you for your hard work and expertise, Marcus.
MARCUS:
(RATTLED NOW – WHY COULDN’T HE KEEP HIS M
OUTH SHUT?) No problem.
WINKLER:
Your money is waiting for you behind the desk in the foyer.
MARCUS:
Thanks. (PAUSE) Hey, Mr Winkler?
WINKLER:
Yes?
MARCUS:
You know I didn’t mean it, right?
WINKLER:
Mean what?
MARCUS:
About... going to the cops. Telling them about... all this. You know I would never do that?
WINKLER:
I didn’t know that, Marcus, but it’s useful to have confirmation.
MARCUS:
What goes on here... what you do, why you do it... I really don’t care. As far as I’m concerned, it’s none of my business, and it’s none of anybody else’s business – especially the cops. You know what I mean?
WINKLER:
I know what you mean, Marcus.
MARCUS:
You believe me, right?
WINKLER:
Why wouldn’t I believe you, Marcus?
MARCUS:
’Cause of... the way you keep saying my name – it’s weirding me out.
Just makes me think... makes me think that you don’t trust me any more.
WINKLER:
Don’t I sound as though I trust you... Marcus?
MARCUS:
(SUDDENLY PANICKED) I’m getting out of here!
SOUND:
THEY STRUGGLE.
MARCUS:
Hey, what the hell are you do - - - - - what’s with the gun?
WINKLER:
You’re a big disappointment to me, Marcus.
SOUND:
A SHOT IS FIRED FROM A WEAPON WITH A SILENCER. MARCUS FALLS DEAD.
WINKLER:
(TAKES A COUPLE OF LONG, DEEP BREATHS) Pity. I’m going to have to find someone to clean this mess up now.
ANNOUNCER:
Fangoria’s Dreadtime Stories will continue in a moment.
ANNOUNCER:
Now back to Fangoria’s Dreadtime Stories, and “Living Space.”
NARRATOR:
These are difficult times, with property prices at an all-time high, and bank balances rarely, if ever, out of the red. It’s all too easy to feel the squeeze... but some people feel it more keenly than others, of course. Case in point, Derek Weathers, and the young woman he likes to think of as his fiancée, Francine Spinetti.
SOUND:
THRU TO A BUSY MANHATTAN STREET.
FRANCINE:
It’s a mistake.
DEREK:
It’s not a mistake.
FRANCINE:
Uh-huh.
DEREK:
Nuh-uh. I got a good feeling about this.
FRANCINE:
You have a good feeling every time you buy a lottery ticket, Derek. Nobody rents out a Manhattan apartment for so little – it’s obviously a misprint.
DEREK:
I spoke to the guy on the phone this morning, and he didn’t say it was a misprint.
FRANCINE:
Did you ask him?
DEREK:
I didn’t think- it wasn’t the right time.
FRANCINE:
When is the right time, Derek? When we have to pay the first month’s rent, and it wipes out both our bank accounts?
DEREK:
Do we still really need separate accounts after two years?
FRANCINE:
I’m not having this discussion again.
DEREK:
OK, say it is a misprint.
FRANCINE:
I already did.
DEREK:
They have to give it to us at the advertised rate, Francine – it’s the law.
FRANCINE:
It is so not the law.
DEREK:
It’s not like it really matters that much-
FRANCINE:
In what alternate universe does it not matter?
DEREK:
In the one where I’m The Daily Show’s latest correspondent. I know they got my audition tape – I called and asked them. What? What’s that look? I know that look.
FRANCINE:
(WARY) I’m excited for you, Derek, you know I am.
DEREK:
But?
FRANCINE:
But... in the meantime, maybe you could think about finding some work?
DEREK:
I’m looking for work.
FRANCINE:
Looking for work as a comedian – it’s not exactly a growth industry.
DEREK:
“Comedy is recession-proof”. Bill Maher said that.
FRANCINE:
I am so sick of hearing what Bill Maher says! Bill Maher doesn’t buy our groceries, Derek, Bill Maher doesn’t pay our rent!
DEREK:
So what are you saying, Francine?
FRANCINE:
(A CRY OF FRUSTRATION) I’m saying we can’t live on the money I bring in – you need to get a job.
DEREK:
I already-
FRANCINE:
The occasional gig at Caroline’s does not count as work, Derek. Look, Meryl’s leaving the bookstore next month – you could do what she does, I could talk to the manager.
DEREK:
I’m not sure couples should work together.
FRANCINE:
I’m prepared to risk it for the sake of the bank balance. I really think it could be good for you, for your social skills.
DEREK:
I make people laugh for a living – how do I not have good social skills?
FRANCINE:
(SIGHS) Tell me you’ll think about it.
DEREK:
Do you remember what happened last year, Francine?
FRANCINE:
Yeah, I almost went to jail because I couldn’t pay that parking ticket – had to sell the car.
DEREK:
I turned 25. That’s a landmark- DEREK &
FRANCINE:
(SIMULTANEOUSLY (FRANCINE IS WEARIED – SHE’S HEARD THIS BEFORE) A quarter of a century.
DEREK:
It’s a big deal, and it really, really brought it home to me – life is too short.
FRANCINE:
(MUTTERING TO SELF) Not mine.
DEREK:
I mean, we only get one shot at it, right?
FRANCINE:
Unless you’re a Hindu.
DEREK:
I don’t want to say I wasted it doing something I hated doing. You never know when you’re going to be hit by a car, or run over by a steamroller.
FRANCINE:
“Run over by a steamroller”... Somehow I wound up dating a guy who learned all his life lessons from Looney Tunes cartoons – is there one where a safe drops on your head?
DEREK:
Funny-ha-ha. You know, we’re doing a lot more than just dating, Francine.
FRANCINE:
Yeah.
DEREK:
Yeah. And I love you. (NO REPLY. IN A FLOWERY VOICE) I love you.
FRANCINE:
What? Yeah, me too. God, needy much?
NARRATOR:
As you’ve probably guessed, discerning listener, Derek and Francine are travelling over familiar ground with much of this conversation. But there’s one element that is brand new – a newspaper advertisement for a Manhattan apartment at a price even they can afford. But despite Francine’s caution, they’ve both failed to take into account that great unavoidable truth - that when something seems too good to be true, that’s because it is too good to be true. And as they enter the foyer of the building listed in the newspaper ad, neither of them picks up on the fact that there are no security cameras. Very unusual in this security-conscious day and age...
SOUND:
THRU TO THE FOYER OF THE GRAND APARTMENT BUILDING. STREET SOUNDS CAN STILL BE HEARD FAINTLY AS THEY ENTER, THEIR FOOTSTEPS ECHOING ON THE TILED FLOOR.
DEREK:
Wow. If they said I had to sleep out here, it’d be worth it. This is like som
ething out of a movie. It’s like that place in The Shining, but in a good way.
FRANCINE:
If the super looks like Jack Nicholson, I’m out of here.
DEREK:
This place won’t have a super, it’ll have a concierge – a guy with tassels on his sleeves.
FRANCINE:
So where is he?
DEREK:
Somewhere. He’s just... away. Doing stuff. Guy can’t be everywhere at once.
SOUND:
HE CLAPS HIS HANDS TOGETHER.
DEREK:
So, what do you think?
FRANCINE:
I think it’s definitely a misprint.