SCRIPT TITLE

Written by
Name of First Writer

Based on, If Any

Address
Phone Number

INT. NURSING HOME REC ROOM - DAY.

A trenchant old woman - MRS. HARTIGAN, 80 - is pushed in her
wheelchair by a MALE ORDERLY to a series small tables.
A sign on the wall reads: COZY ACRES NURSING HOME.
Another sign below it reads: SPEED DATING - NOON TODAY!
MALE ORDERLY
I know youve got more Pinochle to
play Mrs. Hartigan, but this will
be fun. I promise.
MRS. HARTIGAN
Aint no man ever talked to me here
before - why would he start now?
Besides, I havent been with a man
since Harold went off to war.
The Orderly rolls his eyes. Hes heard it all before.
Still pushing, he pulls his CELL PHONE out of his pocket and
texts coyly with one hand.
MRS. HARTIGAN (CONTD)
Hard to move on, looking into your
husbands empty casket, knowing he
could still be out there somewhere.
Not paying attention, the Orderly slams Mrs. Hartigan into
the table set out for her.
MRS. HARTIGAN (CONTD)
My old bones!! My old bones!!
MALE ORDERLY
Oh my god! Mrs. Hartigan Im so
sorry!
MRS. HARTIGAN
I spend every day with Death
looming over my shoulder. The least
you could do is not make his job
any easier.
MALE ORDERLY
Is there anything I can do?
Mrs. Hartigan
Tell you what. You set me up with a
nice British fellow, well call us
Even Steven.
(beat)

2.

That accent makes me feel premenopausal all over again.

Disgusted, the Orderly settles Mrs. Hartigan at the table
with a CARD bearing her name set up on it. He takes a seat in
a chair in the corner where he continues text messaging.
The tables adjacent to her have cards as well, with the names
of the other women participating. Mrs. Anderson, Ms. Fenner..
Another young orderly - the EMCEE - enters.
EMCEE
Welcome to the 1st Annual Cozy
Acres Speed Dating!
(beat)
Originally, we had several lovely
ladies lined up to participate
today -- but in a bizarre series of
events the entire east wing of Cozy
Acres passed away last tonight,
except Mrs. Hartigan.
A FEMALE ORDERLY quickly removes the other three cards from
the tables next to Mrs. Hartigan. She looks aghast.
MRS. HARTIGAN
Theyre... ALL... dead?
UP: MUSIC. Something Benny Hill-ish and uptempo.
EMCEE
Without further ado... I present
Suitor Number 1... Mr. Turner!
The antithesis of speed, MR. TURNER hobbles out with the aid
of a walker, step by octogenarian step.
As he nears, he attempts to pull out the chair opposite Mrs.
H. with one arm while struggling to balance with the other.
Flailing wildly and about to fall and break his coccyx, the
EMCEE rushes over - in a nick of time! - and pulls his chair
out beneath him just as he collapses into it.
With a furrowed brow Mrs. Hartigan sizes him up coolly.
MR. TURNER
(in British accent)
Ello love.
MRS. HARTIGAN
So, uh, where are you from?

3.

MR. TURNER
Im from Britain.
MRS. HARTIGAN
Fascinating. What did you do there?
MR. TURNER
Im a retired ornithologist.
MRS. HARTIGAN
Really?
MR. TURNER
No. But I do love looking at
beautiful birds
(winks)
Looks like I found one.
She blushes. Putty in his hands.
MRS. HARTIGAN
A lot of times I cant understand a
thing you people say, but your
accents very clear.
MR. TURNER
Although its my second language, I
picked English up pretty quickly.
MRS. HARTIGAN
Whats your first language?
MR. TURNER
Well, uh... British, you know.
Mrs. Hartigan appears confused. Even for an old person.
MRS. HARTIGAN
Where are you from again?
MR. TURNER
Uh. British Columbia.
MRS. HARTIGAN
Thats a Canadian province! Youre
not British at all are you?
MR. TURNER
(drops the accent)
Im from Illinois. Your orderly
sent me a text saying if I faked a
British accent - Id win for sure.

4.

Fuming, Mrs. Hartigan stares daggers at the Orderly, who is

texting away in the corner.
EMCEE
(rushing over)
Ding ding! Times up for Suitor
Number 1!
Mr. Turner, assisted by the EMCEE, gets up and exits as Mrs.
H. looks on disapprovingly.
Crossing paths, Mr. Turner and Suitor Number 2 - MR.
TARKANIAN - stare each other down. Shit is getting heated.
Mr. Tarkanian, walking spryly and independently, sits
opposite Mrs. Hartigan looking ever inch a dapper gentleman.
MR. TARKANIAN
Names John. Pleased to meet you.
MRS. HARTIGAN
I dont think Ive seen you around.
MR. TARKANIAN
Probably because I spend most of my
time watching Golden Girls reruns
and freebasing Viagra.
Mr. T filches a LIGHTER and TIN FOIL from his pocket and
dumps a SMALL VIAL of powder onto the foil.
MR. TARKANIAN (CONTD)
You want in on this, Silver Fox?
MRS. HARTIGAN
I think you better leave.
He sparks the foil and huffs some serious Viagra.
MR. HARTIGAN
Im just gonna lay it out for you,
Toots. Im harder than calculus
right now. I havent gotten any
action since Mrs. Shertiger passed
away mid-coitus.
(beat)
What can I say? At least I got
mine.
Mrs. Hartigan
(to Orderly, disgusted)
I think were done here!

5.

Still text messaging, he offers no response. The two stare

each other down for the remaining seconds - her eyes filled
with vitriol, his with geriatric arousal.
EMCEE
Ding, ding, ding! Suitor Number 3!
As Mr. Turner walks past SUITOR NUMBER 3 and gives him the
dead mackerel eyes. Suitor 3 walks calmly by. Zenlike.
MRS. HARTIGAN
Please not another pervert.
SUITOR THREE
(a calming twinkle in his
eye)
Hi. Im Hershel.
MRS. HARTIGAN
Im Sophie. Have we met before.
HERSHEL
I dont believe so. Even a memory
as poor as mine wouldnt let me
forget someone a striking as
yourself.
They share a sweet, comfortable silence.
MRS. HARTIGAN
That hair. Those eyes. That voice.
I swear weve met before. Youre
the spitting image of my husband,
rest his soul.
HERSHEL
Must be a fine looking gentleman.
Smiling, she nods.
HERSHEL (CONTD)
I dont believe weve made
acquaintances. But ever since I
went to that godforsaken war my
brain aint been nothing but...
MRS. HARTIGAN / HERSHEL
... banana pudding!
MRS. HARTIGAN
Oh my god! Harold... Youre ALIVE!

6.

Leaning across the table the two embrace. Long lost love,
reunited again. Everyone claps. Well, the Emcee and the one
Orderly paying attention do anyway.
FEMALE ORDERLY
(rushing over)
Hersh? Ive been looking for you
everywhere!
MRS. HARTIGAN
This is Harold! My husband! He
forgot his name in the war. I never
thought Id see him again!!
FEMALE ORDERLY
War? Hershel Watkins aint been in
no war. Hes as yellow as his
bedsheets.
MRS. HARTIGAN
No, no, no! Thats my husband!!
FEMALE ORDERLY
Sorry hon. Fraid so. He fell out of
a damned tree like a damned coconut
and cracked his head.
MRS. HARTIGAN
Why was he in a tree?
FEMALE ORDERLY
I dont know. Probably masturbating. Its all any of them do.
Bunch of perverts if you ask me.
Escorted briskly away, Hershel begins rubbing his thighs.
FEMALE ORDERLY (CONTD)
Keep your pants on, Tiger. Youre
almost home.
Mrs. Hartigan, wistful, is at a complete loss.
(as if
isnt
And thats
Nursing...
End.

EMCEE
to a camera that
there)
it for this round of...
Home... Speed Dating!!