Post by idiotj on Jun 13, 2007 21:13:04 GMT -5
J: There was a writer.
[Pause]
J: And God said, let there be absinthe. [She looks, tiredly, next to her on the desk. There is no absinthe.]
PJ: And there was absinthe!
[There is a bang and absinthe appears next to J. PJ walks out of the smoke. J looks from the absinthe to PJ trying to figure out a number of things. PJ looks absolutely spiffy, with an awesome fedora and a trenchcoat.]
PJ: You're trying to write a novel, eh?
J: A musical.
PJ: That's unfortunate.
J: Might I ask who you are?
PJ: You might. You probably will.
J: Where'd you get the hat?
PJ: Some unlucky cows.
J: That's unfortunate. Do you want to see my musical?
PJ: No.
J: I figured as much--you must have heard the reviews. sings, horribly]
I never was the queen, the queen of old Broadway. I'd like to be the queen and--
PJ: Stick to writing, kid. That's what I'm here to help you with.
[J gets up from her chair. Neither J nor PJ do anything for a few seconds]
J: Aren't you going to help? By writing it?
PJ: Oh, no! You didn't think it was going to be that easy, did you?
[music starts]
PJ: Dim the lights and cue the treble,
You're going to make a deal with the devil
J [spoken]: You're gonna help me write the musical?
PJ: Yes!
J: But--you can hardly rhyme. At all.
[The music stops. PJ breaks down, crying]
J: I'm--sorry? There, there?
PJ: Listen, kid. You gotta make this musical work. It's my last shot.
J: Last shot at what? And why are you calling me 'kid?' You're not that older than I am.
[PJ sighs]
PJ: Didn't you notice how I said you're going to make a deal with the devil?
J: Yeah.
PJ: Well, who'd you think I was talking about, Rupert Murdoch? I! Me! I'm the devil! I'm a devil, rather, and Satan's going to have my ass if I don't collect a soul.
[J sits back down, crosses her legs and listens intently]
J: Tell me.
[The lights change; the music starts]
J: No music.
[The lights go back; the music stops]
PJ: I work better with music.
J: Nah. You don't.
PJ: Satan's a Social Darwinist capitalist type, you know? Some of his devils, they make their way in life by being muses. They give Bohemians their arty gifts in exchange for their soul and Satan's happy. The muses that aren't successful, Satan wipes them out. I've seen him do unspeakable things...to my sister...to my father...they didn't fulfil their quota. He's given me so many chances that...I...
J: [nods] Go on.
PJ: Are you sure I can't have music?
J: I'm sure.
PJ: I have nothing to offer. Bohemians don't want my gift. I say, 'Hey. What about I kill you in a dramatic way? You'll be famous after death. Hell really isn't as bad as everyone says it is.' And they still say no, the cowards.
J: You want my soul.
PJ: Yes.
J: In exchange for your admittedly mediocre talents?
PJ: Yes.
J: How'd you become a devil, being so hone--
[There is another explosion, cloud of smoke, and Eoghann steps out. Eoghann is one hundred times more spiffy than PJ. In fact, it's at that moment that J realizes PJ doesn't actually look that spiffy, but since he's the first devil she's seen, he looks relatively spiffy to mortal eyes]
J: --st?
Eoghann: One is born a devil. A successful devil is what one becomes, if they're lucky or talented, or have any redeeming quality...which PJ doesn't. Which is why he's wearing an ugly fedora, and on his knees [PJ at some point had sat down on his knees. They notice; he stands up]begging an ugly teenage girl to give him her soul out of pity. For nothing. There's a reason certain people are successful, and why others are ass-raped by Satan into oblivion.
[Eoghann pulls out a business card and spins it at J.]
Eoghann: PJ should have been gone long ago. No one can disagree. We've asked God. We've asked Jesus. You want to see his work? You want to see mine? Compare.
[Eoghann snaps his fingers. The lights go out. Then, a spotlight on Alice and Sam]
Alice [to herself]: How is one supposed to find true love when she can't even find her place in the world?
[They walk forward, and encounter each other]
Sam: Hi.
Alice: H-hi.
[awkward pause]
Sam: Nice day, isn't it?
Alice: Yeah. It is.
Sam/Alice [to themselves]: Especially now that you're here.
Alice: Excuse me? Sam: What was that?
Sam: Nevermind. Alice: Nothing.
Alice: I have stories to write.
Sam: I have maidens to excite.
[They walk past each other in opposite directions]
[back to J and the devils]
J: Was that yours, Eoghann? It was terrible. Crappy terribleness.
Eoghann: Yes, but did you notice how pretty the leads were? Look at PJ's play.
PJ: I don't thi--
Eoghann: SHOW HER.
[The lights dim. Spotlight on Snicket in jester's hat]
Snicket [singing]: It's me, Snicket! I am Snicket!
A humble man, a no one, a knave.
When 667's in danger, though, who attempts to save?
Appreciate me, public! I beg of you--rave!
Think of how devoted I am! How loyal! How brave!
Let me prove worthy of your love,
Set me free!
What do you want me to do?
[back to J and the devils]
J: Oh, I see. This show won't be taken seriously because the lead's a ten-year old wearing too-big shoes and his mommy's coat.
[J writes something down. Music starts]
J: What if he had someone beautiful? Someone awesome, like Shrute?
Eoghann: [scoff] You think that for Snicket the public would root?
J: Even if he had an Australian accent?
Eoghann: That's still not enough to make the people content.
Eoghann and PJ: It's Snicket! No one roots for Snicket!
When your play stars Snicket, you won't sell a single ticket.
You'll be sure that they'll be pickets
PJ: [sighing, steps forward] From the most veritable reporters. [he sadly holds up the review section of a newspaper.]
Eoghann and PJ: You'll hear the sound of crickets if Snicket's your hero
Eoghann: The audience will run out screaming, looking for a place to go!
PJ: Even if they run in the desert--
Eoghann: Or into freezing snow.
Devils: They'll think it's better to freeze
Than to sit 'til a reprise.
Get an immunol disease
Than hear him gasp and wheeze
And you'll see--
Eoghann: You can be Sondheim!
PJ: You can be Webber!
Both: You could be Wilde, for all they care!
But if Snicket's your main character, your career's not going anywhere!
[Music stops]
[Pause]
J: Go on. I'd like to hear more.
END SCENE ONE
[Pause]
J: And God said, let there be absinthe. [She looks, tiredly, next to her on the desk. There is no absinthe.]
PJ: And there was absinthe!
[There is a bang and absinthe appears next to J. PJ walks out of the smoke. J looks from the absinthe to PJ trying to figure out a number of things. PJ looks absolutely spiffy, with an awesome fedora and a trenchcoat.]
PJ: You're trying to write a novel, eh?
J: A musical.
PJ: That's unfortunate.
J: Might I ask who you are?
PJ: You might. You probably will.
J: Where'd you get the hat?
PJ: Some unlucky cows.
J: That's unfortunate. Do you want to see my musical?
PJ: No.
J: I figured as much--you must have heard the reviews. sings, horribly]
I never was the queen, the queen of old Broadway. I'd like to be the queen and--
PJ: Stick to writing, kid. That's what I'm here to help you with.
[J gets up from her chair. Neither J nor PJ do anything for a few seconds]
J: Aren't you going to help? By writing it?
PJ: Oh, no! You didn't think it was going to be that easy, did you?
[music starts]
PJ: Dim the lights and cue the treble,
You're going to make a deal with the devil
J [spoken]: You're gonna help me write the musical?
PJ: Yes!
J: But--you can hardly rhyme. At all.
[The music stops. PJ breaks down, crying]
J: I'm--sorry? There, there?
PJ: Listen, kid. You gotta make this musical work. It's my last shot.
J: Last shot at what? And why are you calling me 'kid?' You're not that older than I am.
[PJ sighs]
PJ: Didn't you notice how I said you're going to make a deal with the devil?
J: Yeah.
PJ: Well, who'd you think I was talking about, Rupert Murdoch? I! Me! I'm the devil! I'm a devil, rather, and Satan's going to have my ass if I don't collect a soul.
[J sits back down, crosses her legs and listens intently]
J: Tell me.
[The lights change; the music starts]
J: No music.
[The lights go back; the music stops]
PJ: I work better with music.
J: Nah. You don't.
PJ: Satan's a Social Darwinist capitalist type, you know? Some of his devils, they make their way in life by being muses. They give Bohemians their arty gifts in exchange for their soul and Satan's happy. The muses that aren't successful, Satan wipes them out. I've seen him do unspeakable things...to my sister...to my father...they didn't fulfil their quota. He's given me so many chances that...I...
J: [nods] Go on.
PJ: Are you sure I can't have music?
J: I'm sure.
PJ: I have nothing to offer. Bohemians don't want my gift. I say, 'Hey. What about I kill you in a dramatic way? You'll be famous after death. Hell really isn't as bad as everyone says it is.' And they still say no, the cowards.
J: You want my soul.
PJ: Yes.
J: In exchange for your admittedly mediocre talents?
PJ: Yes.
J: How'd you become a devil, being so hone--
[There is another explosion, cloud of smoke, and Eoghann steps out. Eoghann is one hundred times more spiffy than PJ. In fact, it's at that moment that J realizes PJ doesn't actually look that spiffy, but since he's the first devil she's seen, he looks relatively spiffy to mortal eyes]
J: --st?
Eoghann: One is born a devil. A successful devil is what one becomes, if they're lucky or talented, or have any redeeming quality...which PJ doesn't. Which is why he's wearing an ugly fedora, and on his knees [PJ at some point had sat down on his knees. They notice; he stands up]begging an ugly teenage girl to give him her soul out of pity. For nothing. There's a reason certain people are successful, and why others are ass-raped by Satan into oblivion.
[Eoghann pulls out a business card and spins it at J.]
Eoghann: PJ should have been gone long ago. No one can disagree. We've asked God. We've asked Jesus. You want to see his work? You want to see mine? Compare.
[Eoghann snaps his fingers. The lights go out. Then, a spotlight on Alice and Sam]
Alice [to herself]: How is one supposed to find true love when she can't even find her place in the world?
[They walk forward, and encounter each other]
Sam: Hi.
Alice: H-hi.
[awkward pause]
Sam: Nice day, isn't it?
Alice: Yeah. It is.
Sam/Alice [to themselves]: Especially now that you're here.
Alice: Excuse me? Sam: What was that?
Sam: Nevermind. Alice: Nothing.
Alice: I have stories to write.
Sam: I have maidens to excite.
[They walk past each other in opposite directions]
[back to J and the devils]
J: Was that yours, Eoghann? It was terrible. Crappy terribleness.
Eoghann: Yes, but did you notice how pretty the leads were? Look at PJ's play.
PJ: I don't thi--
Eoghann: SHOW HER.
[The lights dim. Spotlight on Snicket in jester's hat]
Snicket [singing]: It's me, Snicket! I am Snicket!
A humble man, a no one, a knave.
When 667's in danger, though, who attempts to save?
Appreciate me, public! I beg of you--rave!
Think of how devoted I am! How loyal! How brave!
Let me prove worthy of your love,
Set me free!
What do you want me to do?
[back to J and the devils]
J: Oh, I see. This show won't be taken seriously because the lead's a ten-year old wearing too-big shoes and his mommy's coat.
[J writes something down. Music starts]
J: What if he had someone beautiful? Someone awesome, like Shrute?
Eoghann: [scoff] You think that for Snicket the public would root?
J: Even if he had an Australian accent?
Eoghann: That's still not enough to make the people content.
Eoghann and PJ: It's Snicket! No one roots for Snicket!
When your play stars Snicket, you won't sell a single ticket.
You'll be sure that they'll be pickets
PJ: [sighing, steps forward] From the most veritable reporters. [he sadly holds up the review section of a newspaper.]
Eoghann and PJ: You'll hear the sound of crickets if Snicket's your hero
Eoghann: The audience will run out screaming, looking for a place to go!
PJ: Even if they run in the desert--
Eoghann: Or into freezing snow.
Devils: They'll think it's better to freeze
Than to sit 'til a reprise.
Get an immunol disease
Than hear him gasp and wheeze
And you'll see--
Eoghann: You can be Sondheim!
PJ: You can be Webber!
Both: You could be Wilde, for all they care!
But if Snicket's your main character, your career's not going anywhere!
[Music stops]
[Pause]
J: Go on. I'd like to hear more.
END SCENE ONE