by Zach Braff
Emma For someone who doesn’t particularly like God, you certainly know a lot about him.
Charlie God, the character in the book, is vengeful and angry.
Emma Do you ever talk to God, Charlie?
Charlie I’m tired of this. I’m gonna go upstairs.
Myron No you’re not. We’re not letting you out of our sight. We’ve been good to you. We’ve kept you outta the padded room. I think you owe us an explanation.
Charlie I don’t owe you anything! I don’t even know who the fuck you people are! As far as I can tell you’re just a sad bunch of drug addicts, who refuse to leave me alone!
Myron What kind of people would we be if we let you kill yourself?! And don’t you think it’s odd that you chose one of the most desolate places on the eastern seaboard to end your life and within seconds of you standing on that chair, there was someone knocking on the door to stop you.
Charlie It was a coincidence; not divine intervention!
Myron And then me and then Kim. Open your fucking eyes, man! We’re here!
With a sound cue, scrim panels slide in and cover the entire stage. A pre-shot video is projected on the front of the scrim.
Myron sits across the desk from Ramona, a school principal.
Ramona I got a call this morning, Myron, from an angry parent. Not unusual. In my position, someone’s always upset. What I’m not used to, is this particular complaint. Do you have a Facebook account, Myron?
Myron I do. (Beat.) I use it to keep track of all my kids. I think it’s very useful to see what they’re all up to? Keep an eye on them, if you will.
Ramona Uh huh. And did you use this . . . social networking . . . device to contact some of your students; to ask them about a cast party?
Myron Hmmm. You know I don’t really recall.
Ramona Well, let me help you jog your memory. Did you attend a cast party at Ryan Freedman’s house in which over sixty-five of our students were drinking and consuming narcotics?
Myron Ryan Freedman. He’s the adopted Filipino kid who plays the mascot?
Ramona Yes, Ryan plays ‘Scalpy the Native American’ for the football team.
Myron I thought the school board was gonna change his name to something more P.C. than ‘Scalpy the Indian’.
Ramona Don’t change the subject, Myron; you know very well I fielded all those complaints and negotiated with the alumni and that’s why we’ve renamed him ‘Scalpy the Native American’.
Myron Yes, but he’s still a scalper. I mean he’s still running around with a plastic sickle trying to scalp the other teams’ mascots . . .
Ramona Myron. Are these not pictures on Facebook of you snorting a line of cocaine with members of the student body?
Myron looks at Ramona’s computer screen. We see a close-up of a photo of him snorting lines with a student in a ‘Scalpy’ mascot costume.
Myron I’m not gonna lie. That guy does look a lot like me; a really fucked-up version of me. But I have a common look. No one’s ever told me I look like the same celebrity. I get everything from Iggy Pop to Morgan Freeman. Are there any other angles?
She clicks through multiple pictures of him doing drugs with students.
Ramona You’re on fucking Facebook snorting cocaine with your students! Are you out of your mind?! Are you an insane person?
Myron thinks.
Myron They’re happy. It’s nice to be around them. Everyone my age is so miserable. I mean have you ever sat in the teachers’ lounge? A conversation about anything instantaneously devolves into complaining about everything. (Beat.) When I was in college, people used to cheer when I walked into the room. We belly laughed. We were silly. I miss that. These kids are my friends. (Beat.) What a shame.
Ramona You should have bought a cat. You’re fired.
Lights up behind the scrim panels as they slide out.
Emma OK, everybody take a deep breath. Myron, you taught drama for ten years. Can’t you put on some type of show or something. Provide some bloody entertainment for Charlie’s party.
Kim Dance like Usher!
Myron I’m not a fucking court jester. I’m a public servant. I need to retain my dignity.
Myron snorts a line of coke.
Emma But it might be nice for Charlie’s birthday party if you could quote something beautiful; something that might remind him of the sanctity of life etcetera.
Myron The ‘sanctity of life etcetera’? Let me see what I have stored on that subject . . .
Charlie That’s okay. I’m alright.
Myron What’s your pleasure, birthday boy? Molière, Stoppard, Pinter?
Charlie Please don’t do me any favors.
Myron It would be my honor to perform for the king of the castle. What is your pleasure, good sir?
Kim Come on, Charlie.
Emma Come on, don’t be shy.
Charlie (beat) In high school we put on a production of The Merchant of Venice.
Myron Elizabethan anti-Semitism; that’s light and fun. Who did you play?
Charlie I didn’t. I was on the lighting crew. My job was to keep a spotlight focused on this handicapped kid that was playing . . . what’s the main character’s name? Sherlock?
Myron Yes, Sherlock, part-time money-lender, part-time Jewish detective. (Beat.) Shylock.
Charlie Yeah well whatever. I remember being so moved by the balls of this kid rolling around the stage in his electric wheelchair saying this poetry about how he was human too. I mean I know the lines were about a Jewish guy and everything, but night after night, I followed him with this spotlight as he rolled around the stage, and I got tears in my eyes every time. For him it was about being this totally normal person who was like . . . trapped in this costume of a freak; trying to use the poetry to scream out at the world like ‘I’m human too . . . I’m in here . . . Can you hear me?’ you know?
Emma Give us a little Shylock, Myron. It’s his birthday. Show us what you’ve got.
Myron It’s been a very long time.
Emma Just a lil sampler . . . A Shylock sampler platter . . .
Kim Yes, please! For Charlie . . . I’ll make it worth your while!
Myron Elaborate my dear.
Kim You can feel my tits.
Myron Under the bra.
Kim Bra? Who wears bras? What is this, a wedding?
Myron Done and done. Here, Charlie; focus your spotlight on this . . .
He hands Charlie a flashlight from his belt. Emma dims the lights. Charlie shines the light on Myron, casting a giant distorted shadow of him on the back wall.
Myron (he does the following quite well) Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions; fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer as a Christian is? If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if you wrong us shall we not revenge?
He takes a bow as the three of them applaud. Emma returns the lights to normal.
Emma Bravo.
Kim That was so beautiful.
Myron I still got it. Not much demand for Billy Shakes down at the firehouse. My prize?
Emma You don’t have to let him . . .
Kim It’s OK, Emma, I’m a woman of my word. Just don’t go crazy.
Kim stands in front of Myron. Myron puts his hands up her shirt and grabs her breasts.
Myron Dear God.
Kim Your hands are cold.
Myron Sweetheart, shhh; I’m on the phone with God. So this is what perfect breasts feel like. I’ve always wondered.
Kim They’re real too.
Myron Of course they are. Hello, new friends.
Kim Hey, Emma; I was thinking.
Myron Wait, don’t think just yet. (To the sky.) Dear Jesus . . .
Kim Oh please don’t call him; we haven’t spoken in years.
She removes his hands.
Myron
I’ll never wash my hands again.
Emma Well you’ve never washed them before.
Kim I was thinking; we could do a whole talent show for Charlie’s birthday. Everyone’ll do what they’re good at; I can sing you one of my songs . . .
Emma And I’ll smoke weed and eat lots of pills. It’s a wonderful idea. This is gonna be perfect. We need to make it more festive, though. I’m gonna take this box of nitrous and search around the house and see if I can find some decorations and presents.
Kim I can help! I love snooping through my clients’ houses when they’re asleep. That’s how I got this Rolex.
Emma and Kim climb the stairs. Myron lights a cigarette. They stand there awkwardly for a long beat.
Charlie You taught high school drama for ten years?
Myron Yes.
Charlie I guess that’s why you’re so smart, huh?
Myron I prefer clever.
Charlie You’ve always got some obnoxious quip just . . . ready to go, huh?
Myron You know those people who just enjoy fucking with people?
Charlie I do.
Myron I’m one of those people.
Charlie I can tell.
Myron Why did you make up that story about being a fighter pilot?
Charlie What are you talking about?
Myron Why are you exerting so much energy lying to us about who you are and what you’ve done?
Charlie Why are you so positive I’m lying?
Myron You said you flew the F-22 Raptor . . .
Charlie Yes.
Myron In Iraq and Afghanistan?
Charlie Yes.
Myron The Military Channel just did a story about how they aren’t using the F-22 Raptor in the Middle East. The technology is so advanced and top-secret, that the chance of one being downed behind enemy lines isn’t worth the risk. So even though it’s the most advanced war machine man has ever made, and cost 100 million dollars each to produce, it isn’t fighting in either of our two wars. There’s a few hundred of them sitting on a tarmac somewhere just waiting for China to ask for their loans back.
Silence.
You just phoned in a bad lie . . . (Beat.) Why?
Charlie What does it matter?
Myron I’m just curious.
Charlie Isn’t it obvious? I wanted to seem a bit more than I am . . .
Myron Yes, but why? Why would a suicidal man care so much about what people thought of him? Why do you care? You’re gonna be dead. It’s like a drowning man wanting the lifeguards to know he’s a good swimmer.
The sound of laughter as Emma and Kim cross from one side of the upstairs bridge to the other. Kim picks up a small statue of a man.
Kim This little man should come with us!
She carries it out. Myron waits until they are gone.
Myron Did you leave a note?
Charlie No.
Myron Why not? Don’t the people that love you deserve an explanation? Although I’ll bet it’s the rare occasion where someone reads a suicide note and says, ‘Fuck. You know, I was skeptical when I started this thing, but I have to say he made the right call on this one. His life was pretty fucked.’
Charlie It’s a long story. Not sure it would fit in a note.
Myron I mean I can understand that you’re depressed maybe, but not why you wanna off yourself. And why hanging? If I ever killed myself it would be in a much more civil manner: the car in the garage thing. Throw on a little Cat Stevens and fall right to sleep. Hanging is so . . . violent.
Charlie Good to know. Next time I’ll make sure to do it in a way that’s less upsetting to you.
Myron Gimme a little something. Gimme a piece of the truth and I’ll leave you alone.
Charlie is silent for a beat.
Charlie You know this Irish . . . like Riverdance music?
Charlie puts the record on for a few seconds. Then turns it off.
Myron Yeah.
Charlie I fucking hate that music.
Myron smiles.
Charlie And I was dating this girl. And she just loved it. She would dance around the house to it in her underwear doing all these made-up little ‘jigs’. It was so funny cause she knew I hated it, but she could always make me laugh with her funny little made-up dance moves. (Beat.) She was so beautiful and sweet and put up with me being . . . a little less than fun. But she wanted to do stuff and travel and you know . . . see the world like young, pretty girls do . . . and should. And I . . . couldn’t do that. So . . . she hung in there as long as she could, but . . . eventually, she had enough. And the last time I saw her we were standing in my driveway and she handed me that record of Irish folk music.
He smiles.
Myron And you’re not a fighter pilot.
Charlie No. I’m not. That just sounded exciting.
Myron What are you then? Lemme guess: a motivational speaker.
Charlie I’m an air traffic controller. I was an air traffic controller.
The scrim panels slide in. The pre-shot video is projected on the scrim. We see a close-up of the radar screen. The camera reveals Charlie looking off distracted. We hear the sound effects of an air traffic controller office.
As real-life Charlie speaks, he crosses in front of the scrim. The imagery in the film is projected on top of him and the scrim. Myron is picked out the whole time with a light special behind (or beside) the scrim.
Charlie (actor) Normally I handled the busiest section of the approach into Newark, JFK and Laguardia. I mean this is like the craziest airspace in the entire country. But my supervisor knew it had been a particularly rough week for me, so he’d put me on a sector further south in the middle of the state that was less busy. And one day, as I’m staring off into space, I got distracted by these two ants on my console.
We see a close-up of the two ants.
Charlie They were fighting over a tiny crumb from the Pop-Tart I had eaten for breakfast. It was the strangest thing. It was like I went into a trance. All I could see were these two little insects, fighting over something that was so important to them; so crucial to their survival. But they couldn’t see it from my perspective. But I could see with such clarity that that Pop-Tart crumb meant absolutely nothing. And then I thought well, if there is a God, that’s probably how he feels when he looks down at me. He’s probably cracking himself up watching me wrestle myself over nothing. And so for the first time in my life, I felt this odd connection to God. And so I thought I should pray. So I closed my eyes and I prayed. I prayed for him to help me see how I was being just as ridiculous as those two stupid ants.
Charlie walks in front of the imagery, it’s projected on his face and body. In unison with his projected self in the flashback, they say the following prayer . . .
Charlie/Flashback Charlie ‘God? I’m here. I need help. And I know I’m not starving, I’m not fighting in a war, I’m not sick, but I’m stuck in this pit. Can you help me? Can you pull me out? Can you save me with a sign?’
Pilot 1 (on radio) New York Approach, Gulfstream 34AD, we’re getting a TCAS warning, but we’re in complete IMC, please advise about traffic at our two o’clock!
Pilot 2 (on radio) New York Approach, this is Cirrus PD1, we’ve got the same warning at our seven! Is it an error? He’s at our altitude; it looks like this guy’s headed right for us!!
A supervisor comes over.
Supervisor Holy shit. 34AD, turn to heading 270! Cirrus climb at best rate now! Charlie, what the fuck are you doing??!!
The imagery of the two planes on the radar screen hit and then disappear. Screaming and mayhem on the radio echoes!!! Lights up behind scrim. The scrim panels slide out.
Myron (putting it all together) The six people. I remember it on the news.
Charlie Five died on impact. One of the planes actually had a parachute that deployed. The mother of the family lived through the night. (Beat.) The inquiry ruled it an accident. They suspended me for a hundred days. A hundred days! It works out to 16.6 days per life. I just don’t think
that’s enough . . .
Myron So you sentenced yourself to death . . . (Beat.) Whatever happened to those ants?
Charlie They gave up and left that crumb behind. I actually kept it in my wallet. Wanna see?
Myron Sure . . .
Charlie pulls a tiny piece of folded tin foil out of his wallet and unfolds it on the coffee table revealing a tiny crumb. He and Myron sit there staring at it.
Emma and Kim reenter from upstairs. Emma has Christmas lights and a giant red exercise ball. Kim has a ukulele.
Emma Well we didn’t find much in terms of decorations, but I found these Christmas lights and this exercise ball. Here, Charlie, this is from all of us.
She throws the big ball to Charlie. He catches it.
Kim Charlie, I’ve got good news: I found this ukulele. I’m gonna play you a song.
She notices Myron staring at the crumb.
Kim What are you looking at?
Myron A Pop-Tart crumb.
Kim I love Pop-Tarts.
Emma Are you that hungry? Order a fucking pizza.
Myron Don’t eat it, it’s a memento of Charlie’s.
Emma Myron help me string these up.
He doesn’t move.
Emma Myron? Snap out of it. Help me string these around a little.
He helps her string the lights around the room. Emma dims the room lights, making it more cozy.
Kim cuts a line of coke on the table next to the Pop-Tart crumb.
Kim I’m so excited I found this ukulele, cause now I can play you a song. I have to decide if I’m gonna play you one of mine, or one of somebody else’s. I mean most of mine are sad little love songs. But you guys seem more like an indie-rock, Brooklyn kinda crowd . . .
She snorts a line of coke.
Kim Oh fuck!
Emma What?
Kim Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
Emma What?
Kim Charlie I’m so sorry, but I think I may have just accidentally snorted your special Pop-Tart crumb.
Myron Are you fucking kidding me?!
Kim It was an accident, I was talking and snorting at the same time and I wasn’t paying attention. Don’t worry, I can vomit it up.
She sticks her fingers down her throat. And begins to gag.
Myron No. Emma No!
They stop her.
Kim Relax! I do it all the time. You think this body’s from going to the gym?