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 MY FATHER’S EYES byKenneth WhiteKenneth White1108 Wellesley AvenueModesto, CA 95350-5044(209) 567-0600 (Voice)(603) 590-5661 (Fax)Ken1White@aol.com 
 
1. FADE IN: EXT. SAN FRANCISCO BAY - LATE AFTERNOONIt's Christmas Eve day.JACK ALOYSIUS QUINN sails alone on the choppy Bay nearAlcatraz Island. The red triangle on the mast flag flapsin the stiff breeze.Jack fights the wind and the waves. He grasps a whiskeyflask in his shaking left hand. He throws it overboard.JACK (to himself) Let it rain. Just let it rain.
 
 EXT. COIT TOWER - SAME TIMEAt the base of Coit Tower, THOMAS QUINN – Jack's 16-year-old son – hangs out with two wasted, bleary-eyed LOST BOYS. Dressed in black, Thomas plays an acoustic guitar wired into a pre-amp feeding his headphones. An expensive backpack and skateboard rest at his feet.Thomas plays Handel's "Messiah." He gulps down an EggMcMuffin and chases it with a Coke. He stares at the Bayand sees the lone sailboat drunkenly tacking around Alcatraz.One of the Lost Boys saunters over. He offers Thomas a toke on a joint. Thomas waves him off. LOST BOYMama's boy. Lost Boy snatches Thomas' last hash brown.Thomas gives him a look, smiles, and offers the rest ofhis McMuffin. Lost Boy takes it and shuffles away.Thomas walks to a garbage can. He stares at the headlineof a crumpled newspaper. It reads: "Drought Still Plagues Bay Area." The parched ground around the can chokes dead flowers.Thomas tosses his garbage on top of the newspaper.THOMAS(to himself) Let it be, man. Just let it be.
 
2.INT. QUINN HOUSE - WORK ROOM - SAME TIMEMOLLY, Jack's live-in lover, feeds three threads of silk yarn into her ancient loom.In her late twenties, she's sultry, voluptuous; the kind of woman you can get lost in. She eats a bran muffin. Shestares at a withered potted plant.MOLLY(to herself) Let it come, okay. Just let it come.
 
 EXT. SAN FRANCISCO - NORTH BEACH - SUNSET We hear a choir rehearsing Handel's Messiah.The bells of the Church of Saints Peter and Paul chime.The sun drops behind the Golden Gate Bridge. EXT. MARINA DISTRICT - QUINN NEIGHBORHOOD - NIGHTThomas skateboards down the empty street.INT. QUINN HOUSE - ENTRY - CONTINUOUSThomas stows the guitar and amp in the closet. He dropshis backpack and skateboard to the floor. He removes hisheadphones. He walks down the hallway and looks in theliving room.THOMASHey, Molly.MOLLYHey, Thomas.They give each other a knowing, almost conspiratoriallook.Thomas glances at his Father.The phone rings. Jack answers.JACK Quinn.(listens) What?(listens) When?(listens)It's Christmas Eve, for Chrissake.(listens) Be there when I get there.Jack hangs up.
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