Art

When I first met Eduardo I was of the mind that I was ending my career as a dance instructor. I had become disillusioned and uninspired by my craft. Each class was torture. Young ballerinas stepped on my toes, elderly couples attempted to waltz, and skeezy men haunted the ‘singles salsa’ classes.

I should fix that statement. Eduardo and I had met before in the roughest definition of the term. It was an oddly busy Thursday night at the movie theatre. I dropped my change with popcorn butter-fingers and when standing with my change bumped into him. We did the awkward dance of trying to move one way then the next. Our little shuffle earned a shared embarrassed smile before we went our separate ways.

The moment stuck out in my mind because it is not often that one runs into a velociraptor at a seven forty five showing of Titanic 3D.

I forgot about Eduardo from that point on and threw myself back into the monotony of my dance classes.

Ballet at four. Jazzercise at five-thirty. Couples swing at seven. Rinse and repeat.

It was at our annual meet-and-greet open house that I first really met Eduardo. I was talking to some chubby PAC-mom about her daughter’s progress in tap (terrible) when he caught my eye. I stepped away from the woman —albeit rudely— drawn by the force of his gaze. We were two polar ends of magnets.

The music was my friend Tiffany’s iPod on shuffle. Thus it was a mishmash of dance music, eighties hits, and Oompapa. The little music player had just shuffled to a Shakira song as I met Eduardo at centre stage.

He extended a clawed arm to me in invitation. The beat did not match the tempo of our dance, but Eduardo and I made our own music. We stalked towards each other with clear intent. Our hands brushed, then tangled above our heads. I swung away and he pulled me back. My arms found his back and his mine.

We moved left, then right. He pushed me backward and I stepped away. We waited a few beats, ignoring the gathering spectators. I lunged back at him and he spun me in a lifted pirouette.

Our dancing had gathered a crowd. I was dipped and then spun. The music, like our dancing, reached a crescendo.

Eduardo and I clung to each other, panting. The small group of onlookers clapped politely. The world returned to its normality. Women flooded toward me asking if there was the possibility of taking ballroom lessons.

This time, I was happy to answer their questions. Dancing, no matter when taken, is an integral part of communication. I was teaching these people to speak with their bodies.

I looked everywhere for Eduardo, to thank him for helping me in my time of need. It was months later that I bumped into him at the grocery store —in the frozen foods aisle— and I managed to thank him. He replied with a series of throaty laughs.

Eduardo and I still get together and dance from time to time.

I made him wear shoes though, freaking claws scratch the shit out of the dance floors.

WORKING TITLE: BOARDWALK BEAT “PILOT” (CANCELLED SERIES)

OMINOUS MUSIC PLUS BLACK SCREEN.

OPENING CREDIT: EVERSON BROTHERS PRESENTS…

[SHOT OF A FAMOUS VICTORIA LANDMARK. ]

[CUT TO: CRIME SCENE. LONG PAN SHOT OF A PARK SIDEWALK. CAMERA PANS SLOWLY TO GROUP OF CRIME SCENE INVESTIGATORS.]

[HIPSTER CLOSE-UP OF CAUTION TAPE: FADE TO GREYSCALE]

[(CS)BLOODY HAND, DEAD EYES. YOUNG NAOMI EVERS IS THE NINTH VICTIM IN A NUMBER OF SERIAL KILLINGS.]

[CAMERA PANS AWAY AND UP THE BODY OF A SNAPPILY DRESSED DETECTIVE. SHE STANDS 5’2 AND A HALF WITH DARK SUNGLASSES AND A LIT CIGARETTE.]

[REFERENCING OURSELVES NOTE: WHEN CAMERA PANS AWAY A RED BALLOON IS VISIBLE]

[GAG NOTE: AS FLETCHER SPEAKS TO THE CSI, NAOMI’S BODY CHANGES POSITIONS BETWEEN SHOTS.]

[SECOND GAG NOTE: FLETCHER leaves cigarette ash everywhere.]

CSI

Time of death appears to be 1:30 PM, she was bludgeoned by a rolling pin. The MO fits

CUT TO: BIRD’S EYE SHOT OF CARS MOVING IN VICTORIA.

ZOOM IN ON BLACK JETTA DRIVING DOWN ROAD.

CUT TO SIDE SHOT OF YVONNE FLETCHER (MARILYN) DRIVING. SHE IS A BADASS COP WHO DOESN’T PLAY BY THE RULES. MOSTLY, SHE DIDN’T READ THE RULES. SHE IS SMOKING A OBNOXIOUSLY LARGE CIGAR/CIGARETTE/PIPE/WHATEVER’SCHEAPESTATTHEJOKESHOP.

THIS SCENE IS A PARODY OF THE SOPRANO’S OPENING SET TO BLOODHOUND GANG’S “FOXTROT UNIFORM CHARLIE KILO”. SIDE SHOTS AND FIRST PERSON CAM.

SCENE 1

FLETCHER

A common theme in serial killing is an obsession with numbers. At least in the movies or on TV. Like, remember that show Numb3rs, Stan? Thing is, serial killing types are often OCD nuts so they often have an obsession with tidiness or hand washing. Like in the 1997 David Fincher film, Se7en where the woman who can’t act has her head put in a box by Kevin Spacey. Waitaminnit! Seven. How many victims have there been?

[ZOOM OUT: Fletcher isn’t actually driving, she and Stan are sitting in a parked car at the previous crimescene.]

FLETCHER

Hey, CSI Guy! How many victims have there been?!

CSI

Nine.

[CUT BACK TO: MS of Fletcher in the car.]

FLETCHER

Two movies with the name Nine came out in the past few years. One was the word “Nine” and an awful musical.

[BEAT]

FLETCHER

No, I haven’t seen it, but all musicals are awful. It’s the principle of the thing.

[CAMERA ZOOMS OUT to show STAN, a block of wood. CS of Stan as if he is speaking.]

FLETCHER

Rocky Horror is the exception, not the rule, Stan.

SCENE 2

[CUT TO: FLETCHER AND STAN arrive at the Police Station. FLETCHER exits the car. CUT TO: MS of FLETCHER leaning in the window of the car.]

FLETCHER

You coming, Stan?

STAN

………..

FLETCHER

I’ll be back in five then, just gotta check in with the chief.

ENTER: POLICE STATION MID-SHOT

People are pushing papers, talking over coffee as FLETCHER walks by. FLETCHER knocks papers out of hands and spills coffee as she walks by. It’s the principle of the thing.

CUT TO: MCSWEENY’S OFFICE

MCSWEENY

Why hello Fletcher. How are you today? Have the thetans been giving any trouble?

FLETCHER

Not today, ‘Sweeny. How are the kites?

MCSWEENY

UnidentifiedFlyingObjects!

FLETCHER

[Gives MCSWEENY “the look”]

MCSWEENY

[Opens case file. Drops folder on desk.]

[CLOSE-UP of photographs of b/ws of lolcats and lawnchairs, hipster photos, etc.]

MCSWEENY (Cont’d)

Nine victims. Nine kitchen utensils used in the murders. Our guess is, he’s trying to make a baker’s dozen. That leaves three victims supposedly being selected at random. However, another investigator found a common link between the victims. They all shopped at the same branch of Ikea. I mean, who would have guessed that a person whom kills people with baking utensils works at Ikea. Dream big.

FLETCHER

I’m gonna cut you off there.

MCSWEEY

But I was finish—

FLETCHER

I’m gonna cut you off there. My investigation has led me to believe that the other investigator eats babies. I find my own answers.

MCSWEENY

Why can’t you just play by the rules?!

FLETCHER

God, have you seen this thing?! It’s like… 400 pages! [Holds up book] It’s in  German! I’m pretty sure it keeps talking about vampires. Where am I gonna come across a vampire in my line of work?

MCSWEENY

Oh don’t be ridiculous, there’s no such thing as vampires. Alieeennnnsss on the other hand…

[Orchestral X-File’s theme]

[CUTS BACK TO MCSWEENY WHO IS NOW WEARING A TIN FOIL HAT]

[AWKWARD SILENCE]

FLETCHER

I’m gonna gooooo-

[SCENE 3]

[We cut back to FLETCHER in the car. MS cam. She lights a cigarette/cigar/pipe and inhales.]

FLETCHER

In thriller movies. A moment of tension is built up by music. Usually the tension is from an unwitting character entering a tableau without realising they are not alone… or in some instances are too late to save their loved ones from a terrible murder. The music is often calmly chilling as it draws to a crescendo. The dog in the microwave? Or perhaps the murderer is behind the shower curtain. You aren’t too fond of thrillers, are you Stan?

[Camera slowly pans over to STAN to show he is missing and wood shavings and a ransom note remain in his absence.]

FLETCHER

STAN? STAN?! [voice cracks] STAAAAA-aa-AAAANNNNNN!

[SCENE 4]

[EXT. CAR AT NIGHT. RAINING.]
[FLETCHER sits crying in car like little bitch. She holds her hand up in front of her face.]

FLETCHER

Strong, Fletcher.

[SCENE 5]

[EXT. DAYTIME. PARKING LOT]
[FLETCHER is once again in her car. Possibly eating in this scene. Mascara streaks are visible like track marks under her sunglasses. She clicks on the recording device on her phone/iPod/tape recorder/idk it can be off-screen.]

FLETCHER

Stan. I am recording this so when I have rescued you, you will be able to review our previous conversations. One may argue that it takes to people to have a conversation. Anything else is just crazy… or a douchebag talking on their Bluetooth while driving. I disagree, because I am leaving ample pauses for your regular response.

FLETCHER

No, Stan, I was not saying all people who use Bluetooth technology are devices used for feminine hygiene.

FLETCHER

Today, as you are aware, is May the twenty-first. All members of our police force are on alert for you after the ransom note was left in my car. I have been asked to defer from this case, due to the personal nature, but as the conductor of the crime has targeted me specifically, I am waiting for some sort of drop-off. I am also wearing a wire. So, again, not talking to myself. I’m not sure if this rendezvous is a trap or not-Stan. There are few things in this world that one can be sure of. For example, the cancellation of good television series -despite it’s awards or fanbase. The fact that said fans will continue to gripe. And that a screen writer will at every chance, take a moment to mention their issues in the script.

[FLETCHER then side-eyes the camera.]

[!IMPACT SHOT! A hand slams down on the car.]

CO-DIRECTOR CAMEO GOON S

Hey!

CO-DIRECTOR CAMEO G

[Motions for FLETCHER to exit the car]

[WIDE ELABORATE TIM BURTON PAN throughout alley following our heroes to a more secluded area.]

FLETCHER

I assume you ladies are here to give me information regarding my missing partner.

CDCGOON G

No. We are here to kill you.

CDCGOON S

There has got to be a more eloquent way to say that.

CDCGOON G

I worked on it in the car for like… an hour! All that dictation to perfect my delivery and you just undermine everything I say!

FLETCHER

[Sighs.] Ladies, I am on a schedule.

[Goons reach for their weapons and instead produce a music player/microphone. Goons then commence dancing.

[PRODUCTION SPECIAL EFFECTS GIANT. TITLE SCREEN RESEMBLING DDR OR ELITE BEAT AGENTS. EFFECTS LIKE “PERFECT!” AND “AWESOME!”]

[Fletcher then performs a spectacular mixture of Bad Romance and Thriller that causes the goons to dissolve into coins.]

[A file folder and address book appear on the loot drop area of the defeated Goons.]

SCENE 6

[FLETCHER storms into a warehouse where STAN is being kept. (According to a scene when she views the files and address book that is on the Director’s Cut.) A solitary light hangs over Stan’s chair. We see that his “legs” have been sawed off. FLETCHER drops to the floor and pukes. Maniacal laughter comes from the shadows followed by villianistic clapping. OUR VILLAIN shows themself.]

FLETCHER

It’s—! It’s! I’m sorry… I really have no idea who you are.

OUR VILLAIN

I’m a sociopath who has no connection to you in any way. Kidnapping your partner was a random act of un-kindness.

FLETCHER

There has got to be a more eloquent way of saying that.

OV

So. Shall we dance? [Prepares to dance with elaborate gestures.]

FLETCHER

[Caps him/her in the knees.] Sorry. We’re out of time. [Puts on sunglasses.]

EL FIN.

SEE? THAT WAS A PUN. ABOUT DANCING AND MUSIC AND OUT OF TIME. AHAHA SO FUNNY.