ScriptFrenzy 2011: "Dead and Breakfast", pp 32-37

[scrippet]INT. ORMONDE HOTEL BREAKFAST ROOM — MORNING

Joy eats her breakfast while reading the paper. George passes by her table, purposely “walking small” and trying not to be noticed.

JOY
George —

He pauses, tense.

GEORGE
Mrs. Collins?

JOY
Your people are strange.

GEORGE
My people —

JOY
The English.

The tension lessens. Joy points at the paper with a piece of bacon she’s holding.

JOY
This lord of yours says his estate is being ruined by UFOs leaving crop circles all over his fields. Lord —
(pronounces it as spelled)
Cholomondeley.

GEORGE
“Chumley.”

JOY
What?[/scrippet]

[scrippet]
GEORGE
It’s pronounced “Chumley”.

JOY
Where’d all the other letters go?

GEORGE
Maybe we lost them during rationing?
(smiles)
Truthfully? I haven’t a clue.

JOY
Weird. But not as weird as this naked lady on page three. And what’s this “Mrs. Collins” stuff?

GEORGE
I’ll bring you a newspaper without the naked lady… Joy.

JOY
Cut it out, George. This one’s fine.

He MOVES OFF. Joy bites into the bacon… with the same kind of results you might get from biting a rubber band. Finally she puts it down. George comes by again with some used dishes.

JOY
Oh, and George? What’s the van with the antenna on it that comes by at night? Somebody else here looking for UFOs?

GEORGE
Van? Oh, probably you saw a TV license van.

JOY
TV license? You have to have a license for a TV here?
(completely bemused)
Next you’ll be telling me the authorities prowl around and ticket you for viewing while under the influence.

GEORGE
Not quite. They do scan for illegal TV’s, though.

JOY
Illegal TV’s. What a place…

George goes off, looking amused and relieved.

Gunter PAUSES by Joy’s table. She gives him a long look, working out her own reaction. Gunter WAITS. Finally Joy points at the chair. Gunter sits down: she puts the paper aside.

JOY
And as for you. Why didn’t you tell me?!

GUNTER
What? That I was dead?

JOY
Yeah, well, all right.
(beat)
You just look so normal.

GUNTER
I was normal. Most of us look the way we looked just before. A few look younger, or some other way they like to look, if their will’s strong enough.

JOY
But how —
(embarrassed)
I’m sorry. I’m so nosey. It’s just —

GUNTER
You’ve never talked to any dead people? I do not talk to that many “live ones,” myself, as a rule. One does not desire to, well, attract attention, when one legally does not exist.
(beat)
Come meet the others. They are curious about you too, you know.

Joy gets up, and they EXIT SHOT.

INT. ORMONDE HOTEL LOUNGE — MORNING

Amid yet more of the sixties-tacky decor, HOTEL GUESTS sit reading papers, etc. As Joy and Gunter pause in the doorway, everyone looks at Joy, curious and nervous.

GUNTER
Come on. They won’t bite.

JOY
(nervous)
No, that’s vampires, isn’t it…

Near the door is SARAH (blond, fourteen, an innocent Alice-in-Wonderland face). Her clothes are old-fashioned looking on such a young girl: dark dress, white blouse.

GUNTER
Joy, this is Sarah. She lived around the corner in the mid-1800’s.

SARAH
Oh, are you really an American? I’ve got so much to ask you! I always wanted to visit the frontier, before.

She won’t finish and say “before I died”. Once again Joy almost reaches out to her, then stops. She’s learning.

JOY
Yes. It’s very nice to meet you.

SARAH
I’d love to see a Wild West show! Do they do them where you live?

JOY
I’d have to check.

Then they come to PARIO (dark, mid-thirties, wearing oversized T-shirt and jeans), reading the daily racing form. He kisses his fingers amiably to Joy as she’s introduced.

GUNTER
And this is Pario.

PARIO
Ah, che bella dom’na, falé!

JOY
You’re Italian!

GUNTER
Pario was a race driver.

JOY
Isn’t that exciting!

PARIO
(casual)
It was a living.

GUNTER
He was touring the racing circuit in 86 AD when his chariot went over in the London arena, and an opponent’s horses trampled him.

JOY
Oh no!

Pario SHRUGS at Joy, SMILES, goes back to his racing form.

JOY
This is where George gets his hot tips?

GUNTER
Pario knows a good horse when he sees one.

PARIO
(from behind his form)
After two thousand years, I ought to.

GUNTER
Pario’s tips bring in a lot of the money we need to keep the place going.

They move on to LORNA (tall, slender, elegant, in subdued turn-of-the-century clothes). Her demeanor is very grand, like a retired duchess or actress.

GUNTER
This is Lorna. She did music-hall work just before the Great War.

JOY
(confused)
Which one is that?

LORNA
Why, the war to end all wars, my dear.

JOY
Oh. Yes. Nice to meet you.

They move away, pause to look out the breakfast-room window into the little garden — postage-stamp size, a few flowers in a tiny bed, garden gnomes with peeling paint, walls on three sides: not much else.

JOY
(sotto)
How do we tell her it didn’t work?

GUNTER
We don’t. Some of the residents don’t really want to be in this century, so they don’t notice it. It’s just as well. None of us have anywhere else to go.

JOY
You seem to do okay.

GUNTER
(shrugs: a little sad)
I was always adaptable. That didn’t change. But for us, nothing does.

Joy glances at the clock, looks concerned.

JOY
Oh, wow, I’ve got to get a move on. Harry’ll be waiting.

GUNTER
Are you going to be busy for lunch?

JOY
I don’t know…I’m not sure how long this thing goes on.

GUNTER
Well, I will be in the Cafe Royal on Piccadilly around noon, if you want to meet me there.

JOY
Sure. If I’m free, I’ll be there.

Gunter gives her that little bow and heel-click again.

JOY
(grins at him)
I’ll never understand how you do that in sneakers.
[/scrippet]

(to pages 38-42)