Monday, April 12, 2010

ACT FOUR, Scene Two...A Mouthful of teeth. THE FIRE IN BRADFORD.


EXT. NIGHT.

THE PROFESSOR IS WALKING ALONG TORONTO'S
WEST END ON EGLINGTON AVENUE. HE HAS A NOTEBOOK IN HIS HAND. HE IS CHECKING IT.

PROFESSOR

Celia Horvath.
Bathgate Gambini.
Where the hell are they?

IT IS FALL AND THE VOTERS' LISTS ARE UP, BLOWING LIKE UPSIDE-DOWN BOOKS ON THEIR KIOSKS. He stops in front of a kiosk where registered voters are listed. He turns up two pages to have his finger touch an address.

HE STANDS BEFORE A KIOSK. TRIES TO HOLD THE PAGES DOWN IN THE WIND. HE TURNDS TWO PAGES OF G'S. HIS FINGER POINTS TO AN ADRESS.

PROFESSOR.

Aha. Gambini, Bathgate 288 Winona Ave
Gambini. Celia. 288 Winona Ave.

PROFESSOR

Oh God!

HE COLLAPSES THE VOTERS' LIST AND STARTS TO SHUFFLE DOWN THE STREET SHOULDERS HUNCHED.

HE NOW PASSES A GREEK RESTAURANT, TO PAUSE AT A WINDOW THOUGH WHICH A SWARTHY MAN INSIDE SEEMS TO BE WAVING AT HIM.

THE PROFESSOR DOES A DOUBLE TAKE.
BUT THE MAN SEEMS TO BE WAVING, AS IF TO INVITE HIM IN.

INT SCENE. GREEK RESTAURANT AND BAR

THE PROFESSOR OPENS THE HEAVY OAKEN RESTAURANT DOOR AND GOES IN. THERE IS A LONG BAR AT THE END OF WHICH SITS THE STRANGER HE HAD SEEN CELIA WITH AT THE KISS'N'RIDE ENCOUNTER. THE STRANGER NOW HAS A FRANK ZAPPA MOUSTACHE AND NO BEARD. BUT THE PROFESSOR RECOGNIZES HIM BY HIS YUPPIE GEAR, THE TWEED JACKET WITH THE ELBOW PATCHES.

IT IS DEFINITELY BATHGATE GAMBINI.

THE MAN SMILES, SILENTLY BIDS HIM SIT DOWN.
THE PROFESSOR ORDERS A BEER FROM THE LADY AT THE BAR, PICKS IT UP AND GOES TO BATHGATE'S TABLE.
BATHGATE SAYS NOTHING. HE SEEMS EXPANSIIVE, AN OPEN GESTRE OF HIS OPEN PALM SUGGESTING WELCOME.
THE PROFESSOR SITS DOWN NOW IN THE OAKEN CHAIR ACTOSS FROM BATHGATE AT THE BROWN FORMICA TABLE.

BATHGATE IS STILL SMILING, SOMEWHAT MYSTEROUSLY.

PROFESSOR NOW AT THE TABLE

Are you Bathgate Gambini?

THERE IS AN ALMOST OBSEQUIOUS SMILING NOD.

THE PROFESSOR SUDDENLY STANDS UP HIS FIST SWINGS OUTWARD FROM HIS CHEST AND HITS DOWN
ON THE SEATED GAMBINI. GAMBINI STOPS SMILING, SHOCKED BY THE BLOW. HE STARES UP AT THE PROFESSOR.

PROFESSOR

That was for that Molotov Cocktail you laid on me at my home last week. I'm still fixing the place.
This is to make sure you don't do it again. I now know where you live, firebug.

THE BAR LADY GOES AROUND TO INTERVENE.

BEFORE SHE GETS TO BATHGATE" CORNER TABLE, THE PROFESSOR WAS ALREADY WALKING WAY, BACKWARDS WHILE GAMBINI RUBS HIS JAW.

THE PROFESSOR, NOW OUT IN THE STREET, WALKS DOWN TO ANOTHER BAR ALONG EGLINTON AVE..IT IS FALL BUT STILL WARM. HE OPENS THE BATWING DOORS AND WALKS IN. THERE IS A PAY PHONE ALONG ONE WALL. HE PASSES THE PAYPHONE AND
GOES TO SIT AT THE BAR.

PROFESSOR TO GREEK BARTENDER.

Triple C.C. on the rocks.

BARTENDER

You sure. Seems like you just want to get drunk.

PROFESSOR.

You got that right.

THE PROFESSOR PICKS UP HIS DRINK FROM THE HASTILY WIPED OAKEN BAR. HE DOWNS IT, ORDERS ANOTHER.

BARTENDER.

I worry about you guys who want to get drunk too fast. What's your hurry.

PROFESSOR.

No hurry. I just need to make a phone call right now.

HE LEAVES THE SECOND DRINK AT THE BAR, STANDS UP FROM HIS STOOL AND GOES TO THE TELEPHONE ON A WALL OPPOSITE THE BAR.

HE DIALS.

PROFESSOR

Hello. Hello. Is this Celia?

VOICE ON PHONE

You're damn right it's Celia, David. Leave me alone. Leave my husband alone.

PROFESSOR

He come back with a black eye or what? Looks good on him

CELIA.

Leave us alone! Leave me and my husband alone!

PROFESSOR.

He set fire to my place.

CELIA.

I heard about it. It wasn't him. Were it him you wouldn't be talking to me right now... Probably some political enemy of yours.
...And you've got to stop hitting people. Next time it'll be mistaken identity again and some poor Greek dishwasher is going to get it full in the face...You're crazy, David.

Leave us alone. Leave me and my husband alone.

THE PROFESSOR SLOWLY HANGS UP. He goes to sit at the barstool and orders another triple scotch.

PROFESSOR (SITTING AT THE BAR)

Husband. Damm!

HE GETS ON THE PHONE AGAIN. DIALS.

VOICE ON PHONE

Two. Two of us.
Leave the two of us alone.

THE PROFESSOR SLOWLY HANGS UP.

HE GOES BACK TO THE BAR AND SLOWLY FINISHES HIS DRINK.

THERE IS AN IMAGE OF A WOMAN WHO LOOKS LIKE CELIA REFLECTED FROM A WALL IN THE BARROOM MIRROR

FADEOUT.

.....end scene

12 comments:

the walking man said...

In the scene directions you have Bathgate sitting at the bar as David walks in then at a table. Minor correction.


There is a lot of convoluted movement going on here Ivan. I keep wondering how you see this on a stage where things are limited by the props and the space. Are you seeing, in your head, a play or a movie?

Did I miss an explanation of what happened to Lief? or is he simply wordlessly divorced and cast aside or were he and Celia never legal? Does the mayor have any part in this remaining or was he just the Caligula of the play?

benjibopper said...

Hey Ivan, do you still have copies of your books for sale? I know I can read them online but it would be great to have a copy in my hands at night when I actually have time to enjoy good writing.

Charles Gramlich said...

The professor's got it bad.

ivan said...

Thanks all.

Got the flu. Real bad. Can hardly write.
Benji, my Light Over Newmarket is still in print and is available for for $20. Send my your address here or in my email..Thanks so much for being interested and supportive.

Mona said...

is this play 'stageable'? I mean will all the scenes and action fit on a stage?

I mean, the station, the stairway, the car on street etc.

I think you are writing a movie script???

TomCat said...

Well, Iban, if the professor has half a brain, he'll step off the stage into your blog and take up with one of you lovely readers.

Hope you feel better.

Donnetta Lee said...

A triple scotch? I didn't know there was such a thing.

Still admiring your stick-to-it-iveness in writing this.

I knew you must be ill as you haven't sent us Quarks any messages of late. Get well soon! What are we without the AntiQuark?? D

ivan said...

Hi Donnetta,

I am still kind of out it...I thought I broke the flu this morming, but there was a sudden temperature drop and 40 MPH wind here while I was out walking in my shirtleeves. Friggin' relapse.
No ambition. Lying around drinking beer and coughing. Coughing fruitily. Heh.
I should get up, get up and do my exercises? Try to be Eugene Simmons?
The old bod says, "Why bother?"

Mona said...

Perhaps it is what is called,a closet drama...

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

Richard Simmons has been out of it for so long, I had his first name wrong there for a while.
Last seen in a business suit and beard--no Adidas shorts--and selling pencils or something.
Scared straight?

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

TomCat,

Lovely readers for sure.

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