Me, Myself, and I

Let me set the scene for you…

EXT. WOODS – EARLY MORNING

O’Neill is jogging down a dense wooded path sweaty and slightly out of breath. From the glistening dew in the faint rays of sunlight it’s clear that it’s too early for anyone to be up, yet alone exercising.

INNER O’NEILL

Can we talk?

O’NEILL

Nope. I know what you’re gonna say.

INNER O’NEILL

Well I’m gonna say it anyway. You’re nuts!

O’NEILL

I need to run.

INNER O’NEILL

Run, yes. At 6 am? No.

O’NEILL

When else am I supposed to do it?

INNER O’NEILL

After work?

O’NEILL

Right. Running in the dark… Deep in the woods… Might as well put my face on a milk carton now.

A beat.

O’Neill picks up the pace as the path inclines. She’s hurting but showing no signs of slowing down.

INNER O’NEILL

Ok. That’s it. You’re insane!

(Pause)

Slow down.

O’NEILL

Nope.

(Pause)

I need to blow off some steam.

INNER O’NEILL

Agreed. But why can’t you alleviate your stress with alcohol or take-out like a normal human being?

O’NEILL

Cause I need the exercise.

INNER O’NEILL

That’s why God invented gyms.

A beat.

INNER O’NEILL

Enough already! Can we at least take a break at the Bridge?

O’NEILL
No time.

INNER O’NEILL

Bullshit.

O’NEILL
I need to shower.

INNER O’NEILL
No you don’t.

O’NEILL

Who’s in charge here?

INNER O’NEILL

C’mon. You know you want to. You can relax with the waterfall and the ducks and tiny rapids….

O’NEILL

(annoyed)

No.

INNER O’NEILL

C’mon… PLEEEEEEEEASE!

O’NEILL

(fed-up)

Fine!

Suddenly, O’Neill notices a little old ASAIN WOMAN 20 feet away staring at her… Busted.

O’Neill flashes a friendly, “I’m completely normal even though I was just arguing with myself” smile as the Asian woman walks on by.

A beat.

O’NEILL

Ugh.

INNER O’NEILL

Yup. Totally nuts.

Gather Two of Every Animal!

Let me set the scene for you…

INT. SWANKY BAR – NIGHT

A dimly lit upscale bat cave of a bar semi-populated with ex Wall St causalities.

O’Neill hangs out at the bar, building a mini fort out of cocktail napkins, olives, cherries, and toothpicks. Boredom is an understatement.

WATERWORKS (O.S.)

My boyfriend used to do that.

O’Neill snaps out of her olive and cherries veranda daydream and notices…

WATERWORKS. Tiny, bird-like waif of a girl. Undoubtedly, her purse weighs ten pounds more than she does.

O’NEILL

Well, olives and toothpicks do make a great impromptu Lego set.

WATERWORKS

Huh?

INNER O’NEILL

Oh. This is going to be painful.

O’NEILL

Nevermind.

WATERWORKS

You waiting for your boyfriend?

INNER O’NEILL
Nice try but wrong gender.

O’NEILL

Friend.

WATERWORKS

Ah. I hate having to wait. Trevor. That’s my boyfriend—or was my boyfriend—used to make me wait all of the time.

INNER O’NEILL
Not taking the bait.

WATERWORKS

Trevor. My ex … or semi-ex… or whatever… just couldn’t be on time to save his life. Five. Ten. Twenty minutes late.

INNER O’NEILL

Nope. Not going to ask. Nope… Nope… Nope…

WATERWORKS

…And it was never his fault either. Oh no. It was always “Sorry baby. Traffic sucked”.

INNER O’NEILL

I just want to build my fortress of “Olivetude” in peace and quiet. Is that too much to ask?

O’Neill starts to say something but suddenly stops. She catches sight of the glimmer of tears in Waterworks eyes.

INNER O’NEILL
@#@#^&^$#@$!!!

WATERWORKS

(on the verge of tears)

He was even late for our anniversary. Two hours. Two freaking hours I sat alone at Nobu. Like a total loser.

(pause)

The waiter even asked me if I had been stood up. Do you believe that??

Waterworks chokes up. She can’t fight the oncoming flood of tears.

INNNER O’NEILL

Mayday! Mayday!

Waterworks snatches the cocktail napkin roof from O’Neill’s fort and blots her eyes.

The fort crumples into a mess of olives and cherries.

INNER O’NEILL
No!!!!

WATERWORKS

Sorry. I don’t normally get like this.

O’Neill lets out a sigh and offers Waterworks another napkin.

O’NEILL

That’s ok. Break ups are never easy.

WATERWORKS

(sobbing into napkin)

Uh-huh… I… just… miss… him…

Waterworks dives straight into O’Neill’s shoulder, forcing O’Neill to comfort her. Awkward doesn’t even begin to describe it.

INNER O’NEILL
Awkward. Party of one.

A beat.

O’NEILL

When did he leave?

Waterworks immediately pulls back in shock.

WATERWORKS

He? Leave me? Ha!

O’Neill stares at Waterworks in utter confusion as she quickly puts herself back together. Not a single sign of a tear anywhere.

WATERWORKS

I break up with men. Men do not break up with me. Period.

With that Waterworks disappears back into the bar crowd.

INNER O’NEILL
Check please!

Family Jewels

Let me set the scene for you…

INT. CAR – AFTERNOON

O’Neill casually waits in her double parked car unwinding a bit to the radio.

O’NEILL

(mindlessly)

Birthday sex… Birthday sex…

A beat.

The back door flies open.

CURLS, a scrawny mop of blonde curls, scrambles into the backseat. He chucks his backpack and lunchbox in post school frustration.

O’Neill immediately reaches for the radio and shuts it off.

INNER O’NEILL

Songs about gifts in the form of sexual favors not exactly Disney approved.

O’NEILL

Hey Buddy! How was school?

CURLS

Eh.

INNER O’NEILL

Uh-oh.

O’NEILL
Just “eh”?

CURLS

Yup.

O’NEILL

Any reason?

Curls shrugs and listlessly stares out the window.

A beat.

O’Neill glances back through the rear view mirror and notices that the collar of his shirt is ripped.

INNNER O’NEILL

Hold the phone…

O’NEILL

What happened to your shirt?

CURLS

Brian.

O’NEILL

Brian?

CURLS

Yeah. Brian.

O’NEILL

And Brian is…?

CURLS

(frustrated)

Brian. He’s just Brian.

INNER O’NEILL
Any chance Brian’s full name is “Brian the Bully”?

O’NEILL

Does Brian do stuff like that a lot?

CURLS

Sometimes.

O’NEILL

Does your mom know?

Curls just shrugs.

O’NEILL

And your teacher?

Curls double shrugs.

INNER O’NEILL
Ah. The “shrug” tactic. Deflecting awkward conversations since 1955.

O’NEILL

Let me guess… Brian likes to pick on you?

CURLS

(quietly)

Sometimes.

O’Neill lets out a little sigh. She locks eyes with Curls through the rear view mirror.

O’NEILL
Wanna know a secret?

CURLS

I guess.

O’NEILL

Brian’s an idiot.

CURLS

No. He’s not.

O’NEILL

Yes. He is.

CURL

But he’s bigger than me.

O’NEILL

So? One day you and that amazing brain of yours are going to rule the world. And people like Brian? Well he’s never gonna to amount to anything more than a glorified garbage man.

CURLS

Really?

O’NEILL

Totally.

(pause)

But in the meantime, if he ever lays a hand on you again then I want you to kick him as hard are you can in the nuts and run like hell. Ok Buddy?

CURLS

(giggling)

Cool.

O’Neill can’t help but smile at this.

INNER O’NEILL

I love my job.

No Really. I'm Done...

Let me set the scene for you…

INT. CLUBHOUSE – NIGHT

O’Neill and BK are camped out at a table near the back of the bar steadily making their way through a pitcher and a basket of wings. Clearly, it’s one of those types of night.

BK

I’m done. Completely 100% done.

O’NEILL

Right.

BK

I’m dead serious.

INNER O’NEILL

Quick question… Do you spell serious C-O-R-O-N-A or S-T-E-L-L-A?

O’NEILL

No. I believe you.

BK

No more girls. Not a single one.

INNER O’NEILL

Self imposed celibacy? That’s got a shelf life of two to three days. Four tops.

BK

I’m done with all their bullshit.

(pause)

Jamie and I have been breaking-up for over a month now. A month.

INNER O’NEILL

Four months.

BK

And it’s still not over. She was supposed to just swing by last night, pick up her shit, and leave. But did that happen? No.

INNER O’NEILL

I’ll take Good-bye Sex for $400, Alex.

O’NEILL

Give it time.

BK

Dude, I gave it time.

(pause)

I know I’ve said this before—

INNER O’NEILL

After Laura. And Hailey. And Kelly.

BK

But I really mean it this time.

INNER O’NEILL

Stacy, Devon, Andrea…

BK

125% done!

A beat.

CELL PHONE rings.

BK flips her phone open and checks the screen.

BK

(embarrassed)

It’s um…

O’NEILL

Go call her.

BK

Thanks. Be back in five.

O’Neill watches as BK disappears into the bar crowd, cell phone pressed against her ear. She pours herself another glass from the pitcher.

INNER O’NEILL

(Smiling)

So not done.

99th

Let me set the scene for you…

EXT. PLAYGROUND – DAY

Every inch of the sprawling metal Picasso like structure is crawling with children. Short ones. Chubby ones. Ones who should be popping Ridillin.

O’Neill sits off to the side working on a crossword puzzle. Every so often she glances up to check on an rambunctious boy with a mop of unruly curls.

M.O.T.Y. (O.S.)

Is this seat taken?

O’Neill looks up to find---

MOM OF THE YEAR hovering around the other half of the bench. In shape, stylish, and equipped with all the latest and greatest child wrangling gadgets, she clearly views being a stay at home as an Olympic sport.

O’NEILL

Nope.

O’Neill moves her bag over and M.O.T.Y. takes the seat.

M.O.T.Y.

Which one is yours?

O’NEILL

(pointing towards the slide)

The one over there in the red hoodies.

M.O.T.Y.

Cute. He takes after his father, right?

INNER O’NEILL

Oh please… Really? He’s nine, lady! I’m old but not THAT old.

O’Neill flashes a friendly “please let this be a brief convo” smile.

O’NEILL

I’m just babysitting.

M.O.T.Y.

Oh! Of course you are! I was going to say… So young looking.

INNER O’NEILL

Kudos! Took you less than 3 seconds to remove your foot from your mouth. A new playground record!

A beat.

M.O.T.Y.

So do you mind me asking? What activities is your little Munkin involved in?

O’NEILL

Um—

M.O.T.Y.

Because my Richie—the adorable one over there near the sandbox—he’s all over the place. Karate. Debate. Soccer. Acting. Spanish lessons. Nothing seems to be enough of a challenge for him.

INNER O’NEILL
And the award for over parenting goes to…

O’NEILL

I think he plays Baseball.

M.O.T.Y.

(shocked)

That’s it?

INNER O’NEILL
Well, he also moonlights as a neuro-surgeon but that’s nothing to really brag about.

O’NEILL

Pretty much.

M.O.T.Y.

God that must be so nice! We thought about cutting back on Richie’s schedule but his academic planner advised against it. I know he’s only in elementary school but it’s never too late to start thinking about college.

INNER O’NEILL

Why not? The SATs has a finger painting section, right?

O’NEILL

Uh-huh.

M.O.T.Y.

Infact we’ve already had to start looking into Prep schools. Richie recently tested in the 99^th percentile for his age. Do you believe that? 99^th .

(pause)

They want to skip him a grade or two but I’m just so hesitant to say ok. Really worried about the repercussions. You know, socially speaking.

O’Neill glances over at Richie who is scooping up handful of gravel and shoving it into his mouth.

INNER O’NEILL

99^th huh? Is that actual or intellectual age?

M.O.T.Y.

So what does your little one excel in?

Richie starts spitting out the gravel like a human machine gun.

O’Neill

(motioning to Richie)

Um… Not that.

M.O.T.Y. looks over in abject horror.

M.O.T.Y.

Jesus! Richard! Not again!

M.O.T.Y. instantly leaps off the bench and races towards Richie.

INNER O’NEILL

I’d hold off on Harvard if I were you.

Excuse Me...

INT. SUBWAY – DAY

Semi-packed car filled with the standard New Yorkers and “I Heart NYC” tourists alike.

O’Neill sits in the dead center of a bench somewhat lost in the depths of her iPod.

A beat.

Doors open and instantly there’s a steady stream of human cattle.

Enter THE SMOTHERER. Preppy, decked out in khaki, and wearing the standard country club issued matching pearl earrings and necklace combo. She’s Miss J Crew.

The Smotherer parks herself right next to O’Neill.

O’Neill starts to shift but is suddenly sandwiched by—

NEVER CALLS. Beefy and sulking beneath an old Yankees cap, he’s got the look of a guy on his very last nerve.

THE SMOTHERER

For the record, I’m not talking to you.

O’NEILL
(confused)

Excuse me?

NEVER CALLS

Fine.

INNER O’NEILL

Oh you’ve got to be kidding me…

O’Neill desperately searches the car for another available seat. Nothing. She’s stuck.

INNER O’NEILL

Only two more stops. Not too bad.

THE SMOTHER

You could’ve at least called. That’s all I’m saying.

NEVER CALLS

(sarcastically)

Thought you weren't talking to me?

INNER O’NEILL

Apparently she is cause she isn’t talking to me.

THE SMOTHER

Ugh! This is what I’ve been talking about! So childish. Can’t we talk like two grown adults for once?

NEVER CALLS

(mocking)

You’re childish.

Infuriated, The Smother presses in closer, squeezing O’Neill in the process.

INNER O’NEILL

Good-bye personal space.

O’NEILL

Excuse…

THE SMOTHER

And another thing. I know that was her number on your phone. Don’t lie. It was so her.

NEVER CALLS

Jesus!

INNER O’NEILL

I second that!

THE SMOTHER

If you just want to break up with me then go ahead and do it. I’m so sick of your shit.

NEVER CALLS

(Under his breath)

Drama queen.

This is the final straw. The Smother stretches herself completely over O’Neill using her thigh as an arm rest.

THE SMOTHER

We are done! You hear me? Done. Over. Through! I don’t want to see you, hear you, or even look at you ever again! I’m—

Subway stops.

O’NEILL

EXCUSE ME!

O’Neill forcibly sends The Smotherer back to her side as she pries herself off of the seat.

THE SMOTHER

God! You don’t have to be so rude.

O’Neill catches Never Calls eyes.

O’NEILL

(to Never Calls)

Friendly piece of advice, buddy…Run.

Stay Tuned...

... My real life has been getting in the way lately (in a great/wonderful/ can't stop smiling sorta way) and has been causing some writer's block of epic proportion. I promise, though, a new post is coming asap!

In the meantime, here's the first few pages of a tv pilot I've been working on called The Mean Club. Enjoy!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

COLD OPEN

INT. KITCHEN, DINING HALL - NIGHT

Industrial style kitchen cloaked with heavy moonlit shadows.

JACKIE “HANLEY” MICHAELS (20). Hint of freckle. Ponytail with stray pieces. She’s a typical girl next door. Hanley stands frozen, eyes locked upon--

A massive TUB OF CRISCO.

The WALKIE TALKIE hanging off of Hanley’s sweatpants CRACKLES.

KARA (O.S.)

(through Walkie Talkie)
Hanley? Hanley?! C’mon already. Just do it.

Slowly, Hanley extends her hand, never once taking her eyes off of the Crisco.

HANLEY (V.O.)
You might be wondering why I’m in the middle of a kitchen, in the dead of night, about to get up close and personal with a vat of Crisco...

HANLEY
(to herself)
You can do this... You can totally do this...

Hanley inhaled deeply, closes her eyes, and--

SQUELCH. Hanley plunges her hand into the Crisco.

FREEZE on Hanley’s disgusted face.

HANLEY (V.O.)
Yup. So am I.

END OF COLD OPEN

ACT I

EXT. CENTRAL CAMP, CAMP BIG ELK - MORNING

Beautiful, early morning calm. Dew glistening off of the bunks, pagodas, and clusters of pine trees. It’s a Thomas KinKade painting brought to life.

CUT TO:

INT. CAMP OFFICE -MOMENTS LATER

A strange blend of rustic with state of the art office equipment.

CHYRON READS “Two days earlier”.

JUDY SHWARTZ (60’s), gaudy Jewish grandmother drenched in every shade of pink known to man, shuffles into the office. She’s perky-- too perky for this hour in the morning.

Judy heads straight towards the PA SYSTEM, reaches into a draw and pulls out BARRY MANALOW’S GREATEST HITS CD.

CUT TO:

INT. BUNK V - MORNING

A pre-teen pig sty. Platform shoes, designer jeans, and halters as far as the eye can see.

KARA WILSON (20), a no nonsense tomboy, lays spread eagle on her bed, dead to the world.

HANLEY (V.O.)
This is Kara Wilson. She’s loud, rowdy, and the sole reason I flinch at the mere mention of Push Pops.

Suddenly--

COPA CABANA blares over the PA system at mind splitting levels.

Kara jolts awake, flips out of bed and--

SMACK. She gets a face full of floor.

HANLEY (V.O.)
Oh yeah. And she also happens to be my very best friend.

PHOTOS

A quick series of photos of Hanley and Kara throughout the years. They stand in the same exact positions with only the backgrounds and outfits changing.

ON KARA

Kara sits up, rubbing the newly forming knot on her forehead, and surveys the bunk.
In every bed a PRETEEN COUPLE plays an intense game of tonsil hockey. None are least bit concerned that it’s morning.

KARA (CONT’D)
What the hell?

Kara storms across the bunk, eyes honed in on--

ALI MILLER (21), a future republican’s wife, peacefully sleeps with an EYE MASK on. And it’s no accident. The eye mask perfectly matches her bed spread.

KARA (CONT’D)
Miller! Miller, get your ass out of bed and give me a freakin’ hand here.
Miller stirs, but doesn’t take her mask off.

MILLER
You know my rule.

KARA
(angry)
It won’t kill ya to get your ass out of bed before reveille's over.

Kara turns back around--

The Preteen Couples have finally moved out of their beds, but are still groping like drunken twister players.

KARA
Jesus.

FREEZE on Kara’s annoyed face.

HANLEY (V.O.)
Now, I know what you’re thinking. Kara’s really got a raw deal with her campers.
(pause)
But here’s the thing...

CUT TO:

INT. BUNK F - DAY

Hanley (12), wide eyed and guilty, is being interrogated by a FRAZZLED COUNSELOR.

FRAZZLED COUNSELOR
(demanding)
For the last time. Where’s Kara??

HANLEY
Um... The roof?

FRAZZLED COUNSELOR
The roof?!

KARA (O.S.)
TOWANDA!!!

CRASH! The Frazzled Counselor eyes widen in horror.

HANLEY
The bushes?

CUT TO:

EXT. BUNK V - CONTINUOUS

Kara manhandles TWO BOYS off of the bunk porch.

KARA
(sarcastically)
--I better see some freakin’ Benjamins next time, or find yourself another whorehouse!
Just as Kara finishes her sentence, she look up to find--

ROBIN MAGER “MAGE” (mid 30’s), a bulldog of a woman, glaring right back at her... Busted.

HANLEY (V.O.)
It’s really just Karma biting her in the ass.

CUT TO:

INT. KATE BROOKS CONDO - MORNING

It’s a one room, bunk style condo. Make-shift furniture. A trail of last night’s clothes leads to the bed.

OAKES (23), an androgynous hipster, slips out from beneath the covers and collects her clothes.

HANLEY (V.O.)
See the one who’s about to pull a bag and bail? That’s Oakes.

KATE BROOKS (25), petite and bird-like, peacefully asleep on the other side of the bed.

HANLEY (V.O.)

And the one who’s about to be bailed on? That’s Kate Brooks.

(pause)
She’s head of the junior girls’ division and Oakes’ soon to be ex-girlfriend.

Oakes slips on her jeans and quietly tip toes towards the door.

SQUEAK!

OAKES
(under her breath)
Shit.

KATE
You’re leaving?

OAKES
Reveille went off.

KATE
So?

OAKES
I’ve gotta get back.

KATE
What about Hanely?

OAKES
She’s covered me three times already.

(pause)
I’ll swing by during my off period.

HANLEY (V.O.)
In the two short summers that Oakes has been here, she’s become a camp legend of sorts.
(pause)
Campers idolize her. The guys think she’s cool. And the girls... Well there’s just no word to describe it.

KATE
That’s it?

Oakes stops and lets out a sigh. This is the last thing she wants to be talking about.

OAKES
Can’t we talk about this later?

KATE
There isn’t going to be a later.

OAKES
What?

Freeze on Oakes stunned face.

HANLEY (V.O.)
But like all legends, Oakes has a major Achille’s heel.

CUT TO:

INT. DINNING HALL - DAY

Oakes strolls up from behind an adorable RED HEAD and gives her tray a once over.

OAKES
Sausages? Too bad. I was guessing you were more of a melon type of girl.

The Red Head blushes and lets out a flirtatious giggle.

CUT TO:

INT. BAR - NIGHT

Oakes and the Read Head prepares to do a round of TEQUILA SHOTS.

The Red Head Counselor licks her hand, sprinkles the salt, and then hands the shaker off to Oakes.

Oakes, though, reaches over, licks the Red Head Counselor’s neck in a slow, sensual pattern, and then gently applies the salt. She couldn’t any get closer to foreplay if she tried.

CUT TO:

EXT. KATE BROOKS CONDO - MOMENTS LATER

Oakes storms out of the condo.

OAKES
(shouting)
Screw you! I’ve got vibrators that give better orgasms!

Oakes turns back around and comes face to face with--

A crowd of wide eyed JUNIOR CAMPERS (5 to 10 yrs old). They’ve have heard every last word.

HANLEY (V.O.)
She can’t do monogamy.