EXT. PARKING LOT OF CONDEMNED CLUB “THE SLAMMER” - NIGHTDarkness. A distant engine SCREECHES in the snowstorm. JULIAN startles awake, gasping for air. CLICK. CLICK, CLICK. A frenzied salvo of clicks, each one faster and more intense. On the twelfth, his lighter ignites. The slashed neon “O” of a NO SMOKING sign halos his comb-over. He glares at the circle, cracking his neck. CARLY stops running and catches her breath beneath a red streetlamp. She holds an unbuttoned royal blue trench coat closed over her white nightgown, mismatched with a pair of ruby slippers.Julian double-takes. Seeing her again, he burns his left palm, dropping the lighter into a gutter. MUTTERING words starting with the fourteenth letter of the alphabet into his virgin cigarette, he rises up. JULIANGot a lig—COUGH. Blood. He knocks a brown-bagged bottle back and to the left, drowning the metallic taste in his mouth. Improv.JULIANGlobal warming? Looks flat to me... Would’ve checked the forecast, but I don’t watch TV. Afraid I’ll see  myself on the n-news, you know? N-not that I’m... What did that judge call me? Guilty. I am not a crook. A villain. A bad guy. How can you be a bad guy if n-nobody knows who you are? That’s what my uncle Ted always says... (COUGHING FIT) Said. Julian borrows two more diagonal mouthfuls of the communion  wine and offers her the bottle. JULIANTastes just like it did last Sunday. Stolen... (BURP) Lent. He told me, take it. N-never said to give it back. Anyway, I should go. You probably have work to do. You look like a... working girl. No offense, but this isn’t working out. Let’s stay strangers. It’s n-not you, it’s me. You’re very n-nice and... Good. Please don’t cry. So anyway, (COUGH) you got a light?

 

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SILENCE. As the blizzard rages, Julian wipes the sweat from his forehead. He surveys the frozen parking lot for an audience that never came. Carly is hypnotized by the cars passing by, her slender neck adorned with a jewelry store  worth of pearl beads. CARLY Are you talkin’ to me?JULIAN Didn’t say a word. CARLYMust be ghosts.JULIANTake it from the top...That set bombed. SNAPPING while racking his brain for an excuse, he remembers the burnt hand in his left pocket and points it through his jacket into the light.JULIANPut your... hands... up?Carly freezes. On her shoulder swings a checkered purse. Sticking out of it is a wooden baseball bat. She LAUGHS at his short cigarette. JULIANThink this is a joke?She LAUGHS HARDER.JULIANH- (HICCUPS) Hands up! On three.Carly fingers her baseball bat, too-perfect platinum blonde hair whirling. CARLYWhaddaya want, an autograph? JULIANOne.CARLYOr a kiss?JULIANTwo.

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CARLYNot that. Please, anythin’ but that... She reaches for the sky. The moon looms above the level horizon.CARLYGo ahead. Shoot. JULIANThree. (GULPS) Carly lowers her hands to fix her hair.CARLYKeep it down! Just get my good side.Julian scrutinizes his cracked reflection in the ice.JULIANLeast you have a good side. CARLYEverybody’s got a good side.JULIANHand it over.CARLYHand

what

 over?JULIANYou know... The thing. The things  women drag around and keep their  money in.Julian SNAPS repeatedly, looking for the word. She runway- walks back and forth while twirling her baseball bat in a circle, striking a pose for every snap. CARLYOh. Ah, men?JULIAN(taking another swig)Bless you. N-never met another person with Tourette’s before. CARLYShouldn’t ya save some for the bachelor party?

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