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Zelda and I

Zelda and I

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Published by Penny Brown Noufer
An author and a prostitute meet in a hotel
An author and a prostitute meet in a hotel

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Categories:Types, Comics
Published by: Penny Brown Noufer on Mar 04, 2013
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial

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05/14/2014

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Zelda and I By Ryan Noufer

Scene 1. Int. Motel Room - Night HENRY sits, holding a revolver in a cheap motel. HENRY puts it to his head, breathing deep and rapid, shutting his eyes tight. He can't do it. He puts the gun down. KNOCK is heard on the door. He opens door. ZELDA walks in. (HENRY AGISHORE) is a famous writer. (ZELDA GRIFT), girl walking in, is a not so famous prostitute. HENRY had called a service, and ordered ZELDA, in a blinded act of not knowing what to do or who talk to. He just wanted an excuse not to kill himself. HENRY sits on bed, looks at ZELDA and takes a deep breath, obviously showing signs that he is tentative. HENRY is also shaken up due to his almost “suicide attempt”. ZELDA What? HENRY Oh no, I’m just nervous. Sorry. ZELDA Nervous for what? HENRY What do you think I'm nervous for?! ZELDA Well I don't know, that’s why I'm asking? HENRY Does a dentist question his patient as to why he looks nervous before filling a cavity? No, the patient is nervous to fill his cavity. Does a prostitute have to question a "patient" before as to why he looks nervous before having sex? No, he's nervous for the sex! ZELDA So sex to you is like filling a cavity? Great!

(CONT’D)Let me just apply some anesthetic! HENRY chuckles a little, at the prostitutes wit ZELDA What? HENRY That was good. I mean, you know, clever for a prostitute. ZELDA I have a name. Shouldn't writers ask that in the beginning any ways? You know, "establish character"? HENRY I'm still trying to absorb the setting first. Cheap motels smelling like a sperm bank are sometimes hard to process for a writer. Too much mystery in this room! ZELDA laughs. Silence. ZELDA Well… ask me my name. HENRY Oh right! I’m forgetting my manners. I don't feel good tonight… ZELDA It's okay, I've had those nights. HENRY I hope not… Okay so what’s your name? ZELDA Zelda. HENRY

Zelda?! ZELDA Yes. HENRY Well I didn't know the sexy role-play began already. Hi, I'm F. Scott Fitzgerald. ZELDA laughs HENRY Oh! He was a writer, romantically involvedZELDA (CUTTING IN) I know who Fitzgerald is you idiot! You're kind of dumb, maybe I should be the writer, and you the prostitute? HENRY (laughing) Oh yea, I'd be living the life. Sipping on red bull and vodka given to me by old sweaty men, listening to their mix tape of Marvin Gay and Beyonce. Real romantic. ZELDA Well I think its nice when old sweaty men set the mood with some Marvin Gay. Nice reminder to me that I could kick their asses if they ever get too forceful. HENRY laughs hard HENRY You really are very funny Zelda. Quite the character. Why are you a prostitute? ZELDA Why shouldn't I be? HENRY Well, hmm… I guess I never really thought about it.

(CONT’D)Oh! Its illegal. ZELDA So? Alcohol was illegal at one point. Did that stop people from feeding into their urges to drink and be free, no! The prohibition, dude. HENRY I didn't realize this was a history lesson now? ZELDA Yea it is! Next chapter we'll be covering the history of depressed writers looking for company. HENRY seems hurt by this ZELDA I’m sorry Henry. That was mean of me. HENRY No… I deserve it. You're right. I am one lonely mother fucker. HENRY looks at the gun on the floor on the other side of the bed real quick. ZELDA No! Don't say that Henry! You seem like a great guy! HENRY Thanks… Its nice to hear that sometimes. Writers make too many "great" characters that make us as writers feel lesser than them. You write the person you wish you were… ZELDA Well at least you “write” people you wish you were. All I do is “fuck” people I wish I was.

HENRY I don’t even know how to respond. ZELDA (Smiling) Then don’t. Continue venting to me, I know you want to. HENRY Well, I don’t know… My main issue is once a piece of writing is done, you realize how you'll never be as "great" as him or her, the character. Characters don't need anti anxiety medications. Or they don't have to go bankrupt, if I don't want them to. God, I wish it was that simple you know? I wish I had an author dictating the outcome of my life. ZELDA Every story needs conflict, Henry. And you kind of do have an author… HENRY And this is…? ZELDA Alright. Don't look at me like a Xanax'ed up Sunday school teacher, but God's your author Henry. HENRY simply laughs ZELDA No seriously! Think about it for a second. He decides our outcome, and we kind of live our life in chapters, all written out by God. Things tend to fall together in place. Dominoes don't spontaneously appear while falling down; they have a track to follow. HENRY So you believe God's the hand that lays down the dominoes of our life, and is the finger that flicks the first one.

ZELDA Exactly! HENRY That sounds great in theory, it really does. But that would go against the constraints of time, right? ZELDA Yea, I mean… What? Okay look at this way; Did you like Christmas as a kid HENRY Like the season? Or the day? ZELDA The day. Christmas day. HENRY Well, I mean yea! Good food, family, dad blasts Sinatra like it’s a 1950 Sadie Hawkins dance. What’s not to like? ZELDA Aww very cute! But think younger. Think the "Santa Claus" era. Did you ever believe in him? HENRY Santa Claus? ZELDA Yea. HENRY Yea… as much as any other kid. ZELDA Well I didn't. I grew up in a very Atheist household, completely shut off from all of that. My dad would go as far to tell me you might as well call Christmas "National Bullshit Day". To joke around he would hang pictures of Jesus crucified, and draw a stage and mic

in front of him, acting as if it were a stand up routine. My dad wasn't normal. And so on each Christmas Eve day, I would be stunned by how excited kids were. They'd be jumping off the walls, talking about how "Santa Claus is coming. SANTA CLAUS"! And I'd just sort of keep my mouth shut, because I didn't believe. I didn't know what the excitement or euphoria was all about. All the kids who believed in Santa though, were beaming with joy for a couple days. No matter what was going on with them: family issues, friends teasing them, teachers belittling, they were happy. Nothing could get in there way… And so one year, around Christmas time, my dad got drunk… like Amy Winehouse on New Years Eve drunk. HENRY smiles at the joke, but is very involved in the story ZELDA (CONT'D) And I remember we were eating a what should of been "Christmas" dinner, and my dad looks at my mom and says, "Why don't you look beautiful any more?" And my mom is taken aback, furious at the comment. But they had been fighting a bunch before, so nothing too new. But this argument escalated, and my dad… my dad starts beating on my mom, laughing, screaming, "No more beauty! No more beauty!", and I try to get involved, only seven at the time, wanting to protect mommy. But he kicks me away like a bad dog. His own daughter. He was more focused on beating my mom, then the safety of me. It was the worst night of my life. And so maybe… Just maybe, that seems to be enough justification for religion. What if I had believed in Santa that one night? Could I have maybe slept a little more dry eyed, knowing some one cared about me, and was looking over me? We all know Santa Claus is fake but who cares!? When you were a child, just for a couple days, you were on top of the world. Why can't we be like that everyday? What if a little girl is abused by her dad or mom in September? Santa Claus won’t be there to comfort her. She’ll need a guardian. Someone to pray to. And still there's assholes in the world, like my

dad, who can't accept that maybe people just want to be happy with their reality, no matter whether it’s real or not. That's why I'm religious HENRY is silent. There is a long pause as Henry stares at the floor, looking down silently. ZELDA Do you want to have- do you wantHENRY (Quietly) No. ZELDA What do you want me to do? HENRY (Swallows hard) You can go. Thank you. ZELDA nods her head, lightly smiles, and then leaves. HENRY looks around room, absorbed in silence. HENRY then picks up the gun, throws it out the window, and then lays down on the bed. HENRY opens the drawer next to him, grabbing out a BIBLE, causing audience to believe he will begin reading it. HENRY doesn't. HENRY grabs out a pen and starts writing on it. HENRY (V.O) Her name was Zelda, and she was the most interesting character I've ever met in my life. She gave me hope. She gave me faith. END

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