Tuesday, September 16, 2014

MANIC VAMPIRES BUST IN ON THE TALKS TO GOD MAN... 9/17/14

SCENE - abandoned, cave-like mine. abode of The Talks To God Man. An energy pulse-like Papa suddenly moves into the space with Jonathon (also known as Tomas) in his arms and solidifies inches from the face of old Piney shaman.

TALKS TO GOD MAN - (drops his pipe and stash) JESUS CHRIST! Who the hell are you! I ain't conjured nobody, you f&%kin' son of a bitch!

PAPA - (drops a catatonic Jonathon) Go to hell, you old bastard. Where's the pit!?

TALKS TO GOD MAN points toward dark passage beyond. PAPA grabs Jonathon's wrist and drags him in.

TALKS TO GOD MAN - (bathed in flickering glow from small fire) Excuse the mess.

INT. THE PIT. A deep, rough, cylindrical excavation, littered with a few rancid corpses, greasy, ashy, residue and old, crumpled up McDonald's wrappers.

From the bottom of this gruesome place, lit by errant photons escaping the far off fire, we see PAPA approach the rim and roll Jonathon over the edge.  He smacks down on the hard packed earth fifteen feet below and moans.

PAPA - Get up. You're alright. That can't hurt you. 

JONATHON coughs, gags, spits up and shakily rises to his feet. He stares up at PAPA.

PAPA - Don't you remember? We did this in Southern France all those centuries ago.

JONATHON sniffs and nods.

PAPA - I'll get you something to drink.

JONATHON watches him retreat. He looks at the rancid corpses and retches. Then he leans against the wall and slides down to the floor.

A few heartbeats pass. He fidgets. He rubs his back against the wall. Then his chest starts to itch. He scratches. It doesn't help. He scratches some more, rakes his nails across his scalp and jumps to his feet, as if devoured by starving, manic, schizophrenic, communist bed bugs. He tears at his clothing, ripping it off and throwing it away. Watery, blood tinged fluid drips from many wounds. He quivers, as a bloody, urine-like arc bursts from his urethra  and paints the nearby wall.

Steam rises from his body. JONATHON gasps for air, as a lose flap of skin rolls down from his forehead. He pulls at it, peeling of a thick, sticky strip passing over an eye (eyelid skin comes off), down a cheek, continuing along his neck, pectoral region, abdomen, groin and leg. He shakes his hand til it comes off. 

PAPA comes back and throws down a box of white wine.

PAPA - Here. Drink this. Red Paint People looted a liquor store. Flayed the owner, only his skin wasn't supposed to come off.

JONATHON pulls off other swatches of skin. You know when you're just beginning to heal after a bad sunburn and the warm, wet, sticky, dead skin just peels off? Well, the noise is like that, only louder... and what comes off is thicker... not just the epidermis, but the dermis, the true skin as well.

PAPA - Come on. Drink some. Lessens the sting when it all comes off. You feeling that yet?

JONATHON struggles to unscrew the top and guzzle it down.

PAPA - (quietly) I guess you are.

JONATHON - (pants) Where are the girls? I remember girls. (grabs his belly). OH GOD! GET THEM! GET THEM! GET THEM!

JONATHON sits down and screams, as his red, raw flesh meets the dirt...

PAPA - Don't sit down!

JONATHON jumps up.

PAPA - Sorry.

JONATHON shivers and weakly moans. Get the girls. Get the girls.

PAPA nods, turns toward where the TALK  TO GOD MAN sits and yells - Yo, crazy hobo... where you got some girls 'round here?!

TALKS TO GOD MAN'S voice - You gonna kill 'em?

PAPA just shrugs, like the way Robert Downey Jr. might shrug.

TALKS TO GOD MAN'S voice - Y-you gonna kill me?

PAPA - No.

TALKS TO GOD MAN'S voice - Hell, yeah! Hot damn! Gimme a minute...

<next time we meet the girls>

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