Sketchy At Best (Excerpt)

Panel-
Establishing Shot-
Wide on the exterior of a small coffee shop.

Panel-
Wide shot. Interior of said shop. (Use the Crave for reference) It’s not too crowded, maybe a half dozen people. In the corner, we can see MIKE and LYNN.

MIKE-
You’re kidding.

LYNN-
Nope.

Panel-
Tight on the date. There’s a huge cup of coffee in front of MIKE. LYNN’s got a glass of soda or tea or something.

MIKE-
You’re the first non-geek (no offense) I’ve EVER met that’s read Sandman. How’d you get into it?

LYNN-
Well, I’m a HUGE Tori Amos fan…

PANEL-
Close on LYNN.

LYNN-
…so it came from that, I guess. I heard he based Delirium on her, yeah?

PANEL-
Back to the pair.

MIKE-
That’s the story. Are you into any other comics?

PANEL-
Close on MIKE, an expression of shock and horror on his face.

LYNN (O.S.)-
Yeah, I love FATHOM.

Sketchy At Best (Excerpt)

JOEL-
So, wait. Let me make sure I heard that. You hate her, right?

MIKE-
Yeah.

JOEL-
You spent the last, what, two and a half years–?

MIKE-
Just about.

JOEL-
–Two and a half years with her miserable, yes?

MIKE-
Yes.

JOEL-
And you STILL miss her?

MIKE-
Correct.

JOEL-
There’s a word for people like you: In-fucking-sane.

MIKE-
I’m fully aware of this.

JOEL-
Why?

MIKE-
It’s… okay, it’s like this; I’m used to it.

JOEL-
Used to it? And that’s a reason to take the slut back?

MIKE-
No, but it makes sense. She’s human, I’m human, people make mistakes.

JOEL-
But you hate her.

MIKE-
This is true. It’s like crack, see?

JOEL-
So, now you’re a drug addict?

MIKE-
Shut up and listen. You know it’s not healthy, but you do it anyway. You can’t help it.

JOEL-
You’ve thought about this way too much.

MIKE-
Hey, how do you know I don’t want her back just to fuck with her mind?

JOEL-
‘Cause I know you.

MIKE-
Bastard.

JOEL-
Like you can talk.

MIKE-
Point.

Sketchy At Best (Excerpt)

Two guys playing pool in a sorta smoky bar. Throughout the story, they’re taking shots, drinks, and maybe puffing the occasional cigarette.

MIKE-
Goddammit.

JOEL-
What?

MIKE is pointing.

MIKE-
By the DJ.

JOEL-
Yeah, she’s cute, what’s your point?

MIKE-
Look at the guy she’s dry humping.

MIKE’S right. The guy’s fairly unattractive.

JOEL-
…yeah?

MIKE-
C’mon. I know I’m not the best looking guy on the planet, but I know that I’m more attractive than that motherfucker.

JOEL-
Then go talk to her.

MIKE-
I left my crowbar at home.

JOEL-
Jesus Christ. What about her?

MIKE-
Where?

JOEL-
By the cigarette machine.

An attractive redhead is standing alone by the cancer-dispensing machine.

MIKE-
You know I’m too shy to actually talk to her.

JOEL-
Bullshit. You’re too shy to actually start the conversation. C’mon, you know once you get started, you’ll be fine.

MIKE-
Yeah, well, I don’t want to come off as some creep who’s been watching her half the night from across the bar. I’ll be lucky if I don’t get a faceful of pepper spray.

JOEL-
You want me to bring her over here?

MIKE-
Like that’s any better. “Hey, I’m so pathetic my friend has to actually initiate the conversation.” Oh, yeah, she’ll be all over me with that one.

JOEL-
Great, I’ll go get her.

MIKE throws his pool cue onto the table and grabs JOEL’S arm.

MIKE-
NO! Fine. I’ll go talk to her. Happy?

JOEL-
As long as it shuts you the hell up.

MIKE is walking off, towards the redhead.

MIKE-
I hate you.

Kid Stuff

Original script for a (mostly true) story I MAY be doing for the CCN’s Show & Tell III anthology.  I’m tweaking it a bit, fleshing it out.

———————————————————–
PAGE 1-
The entire page is solid black.

CAPTION- A friend of mine died a few days ago.

PAGE 2-
Tall, narrow panel
A young man, our NARRATOR, is standing outside.

NARRATOR- Okay, that’s not totally true. I mean, Ken did die. Drug overdose, actually. But we hadn’t talked in years.

Three panels fill up the rest of the page. Two six-year-old boys doing kid stuff.

CAPTION- God. How long had it been? Since I moved away. We did little kid stuff. Eighties kid stuff to be honest. Our days were filled with Transformers, He-Man, G.I. Joe, comics, action figures. We used to dress up, pretend we were Ghostbusters. Oh man. That was a long time ago. Still… it hit me pretty hard.

PAGE 3-
Several panels of varying sizes. Our narrator flipping through a book or magazine.

NARRATOR- I’m seventeen. People my age aren’t supposed to die. Sigh… I felt so guilty when I heard about it.

Next panel shows and airplane in flight. The next, a slightly younger NARRATOR is getting dressed for prom. The rest show various dance shots.

CAPTION- I went back last year. Went to prom with a friend I’d kept in touch with. It was fun. Saw some people I hadn’t seen in years. I talked to Ken for a few minutes. Exchanged numbers and e-mail addresses and all that fun stuff. Didn’t really keep in touch.

PAGE 4-
NARRATOR walking around his room.

CAPTION-And now I don’t have the chance to talk to him. I know, that sounds cheesy. I don’t even know why I’m talking about it. I mean, what am I expecting? Some huge spiritual revelation? Who knows? Maybe I just need to think about it some more. Maybe I shouldn’t think about it.