The following is a 500 word standalone two-hander scene I wrote for my application to The Central school of Speech and Drama’s Writing for Stage and Broadcast Media Programme.
For the record I was given an interview, which I couldn’t make. I emailed them to ask for an alternative date and they never replied. The end.
Lights up. Two men at a table.
Gary: Do you have the-
Frank: Of course I’ve got the stuff! What the fuck, man?
Gary: Good. We just need to be sure.
Frank: Need to be sure? What the-? This is fucking bullshit! I oughta go batshit-crazy up in this motherfucker!
Gary: Hey man, chill out a little bit, this isn’t a, uh, Tarantino flick. This is real-life.
Gary:Hey! Fuck you man. You doubting my cred? I will rape your face!
Gary: Frank. Time out. It’s me, Gary. Not Jimmy Two-Shirt. We are rehearsing. This is a dry-run.
Frank: Don’t fucking pull this shit on me man! You wearing a wire? Huh? This some sorta fucking set-up?
Gary: Sit down. Shut up. Relax. You’re not even remotely believable. If you’re gonna pull this off, you need to be hard, but cool. Convincing.
Frank: Wha-? Oh. OK. Sorry.
Gary: Look man, you got us into this mess. You have to get us out of it. That’s agreed. But you’ve got a warped perspective of this lifestyle.
Frank: What do you mean?
Gary: It’s not all witty obscene dialogue and jump cuts. This is real. This is my life. Look, we’ve been friends a long time. But I been doing this shit alot longer. That cock-up, getting taken on your first buy – that was bush league. That was flyweight.
Frank: Gimme a break man. That was weeks ago.
Gary: Yeah, it was. But here we are, two weeks later, and all that money is still gone.
Frank: I’m gonna set this right with you.
Gary: You better. Because otherwise we’re both dead. If I get killed, I’m gonna take you with me.
Frank: I said I was sorry. And I am.
Gary: I know. I know.
Frank: I will make this right.
Gary: I know you will.
Gary: Yesterday, for example, you were aces. I said as much to Big Man. He was impressed
Frank: Really? Awesome.
Gary: Yeah, really. Cuz he doesn’t know you lost 6,000 of his dollars.
Frank: And he never will. After I scoot in there, go all Scarface- no, all Taxi Driver up in the joint. We’ll be even-up… I take back what they took. Jungle law, and all that. I’ll be squares. Seriously: I will buy you dinner tonight. I owe you that.
Gary: Fucking rights you do. Thanks. Look, let’s run through this again.
Frank: Alright, I go in there.
Frank: Pablo’s. On fourth. Side door. I say I’m looking for Punchy Walnuts.
Gary: Then what?
Frank: They take me upstairs…
Frank: And I pull a motherfuckin’ Joe Pesci Goodfellas. Then I whip this ultra-realistic weapon out of my backpack, and stick them the FUCK UP!
Gary: Yes! Yes you do. Aces. Now go get them. You’re the man!
They have a short awkward embrace. Frank Leaves. Gary waits, pulls out his mobile phone. Dials a number.
Gary: Hey. It’s done. Wanna go get some dinner?