Screenplay -- UNICORNS!

The Tale of the Strange Unicorn Picture Show
A screen play by
Caitlin L

The first image is of red velvet cinema curtains. The opening music is cued in. The curtains open, revealing the title “The Tale of the Strange Unicorn Picture Show”. Screen goes to black, its old and scratchy, burnt celluloid cuts in.

There’s a quiet bell; creepy, yet happy. The bells go to chorus as 2 unicorns appear. The 2 unicorns have pastel manes and tails, with white bodies. CHARLIE and CHUCK are prancing around.

CHARLIE:: “hey, so, chuck, what’d’ya wanna do?”
CHUCK:: “lets go down to the river, under the overpass. We can play cards.”
CHARLIE:: “yeah. Okay, good idea. Just, hold on, let me get my cards from home.”

CHARLIE walks off towards a tree, and just stands there (might I remind you, this is a very poorly produced movie). CHUCK starts to whistle and look around. He quickly turns around behind him, and snaps back forward, stares at the camera. He swishes his tail. CHARLIE returns.

CHARLIE:: “iight, man. I got my cards, but I’m missing the 4 of clubs, the queen of diamonds, and all of my jacks.”

CHUCK glares at CHARLIE and bulges his eyes. He seems confused

CHUCK:: “umm…okay, I guess. I don’t know how we’ll ever play any normal game with this deck, but sure, whatever. Let’s go.”
CHARLIE:: “woohoo sweet! Hey man, let’s pick up some ciggys before we go.”
CHUCK:: “are you kidding me? You must be. You’re retarded, you know that? First off, I don’t smoke, secondly, we couldn’t get some ciggys if we wanted to. Jesus Christ, don’t even talk to me again.”

CHARLIE and CHUCK walk off together. CHARLIE looks at CHUCK.
CHUCK:: “What? What do you want?”
CHARLIE:: “Well, I don’t know. I just kinda wanted to apologize. I didn’t know you’d be so offended.”
CHUCK:: “dude, you’re such a fag. Shut up. Let’s just go play some cards.”
CHARLIE:: “Okay…hey, man. Do you wanna hold ma hand?”
CHUCK:: “Oh my GOD, NO! dude, you don’t even have a hand, you retard. Jesus Christ, no. Oh man, you’re such a fag.”

CHARLIE and CHUCK walk off together. With CHUCK awkwardly avoiding CHARLIE’s gaze.

Intro to Indept. Piece #6

I was thinking about the e.e. cummings assignment earlier this semester, when I decided to write a poem. I liked his style and so, I tried to imitate it. Writing good poetry is hard, so I was a little worried about my structure and view point, but I think it turned out well in the end. There wasn't anything that inspired me, i was just making it up as i went along.

Indept. piece #6--the rain drop

But when the rain fell

Oh so high
It pattered to the floor
Flooding the village(

The drop kissed the flower
And was
swept
away

Never to be seen
Ev
er

Again)

But so on it went
with
the world turning round

Pop Culture Assignment--CRUNKING!!

Not too long ago, an unusual type of dance emerged from the dirty streets of Memphis, Tennessee. This dance was known as crunking. Crunking involves participants violently waving their arms in a desperate attempt to release anger. Crunking, or krumping, has gained popularity among people of all backgrounds. Last season on “Flavor of Love” of VH1, Flavor Flav had the girls dance off. One group had to crunk with “Tommy the Clown”, a crunkmeister. On “America’s Next Top Model”, the girls needed to crunk while modeling shoes.

Obviously this dance, as bizarre as it is, is gaining popularity among many people of all ages. Personally, I don’t crunk, but I like to laugh at people who crunk. One time, I drank a drink called crunk, but that’s another story. Anyway, by now, certainly you’re wondering, how did anybody manage to bring this to normal mainstream people? Well, the recent movie, Hustle and Flow, introduced this to modern society. From then it took off. Perhaps it’s the ridiculous movements involved in the dance, or the sheer thrill of knowing one looks like a fool, that amuse kids around the world.

Intro. Indept. piece #5

Water towers make me cry. I’m scared of them. They’re these huge towers that can drown you and it’s just creepy. I spelled out my fear of water towers in this piece. This kid benevolently climbs in hoping to cool off and is locked in. I’m also afraid of being in water in the dark. If I’m drowning no one can see me. Its a little detail, but I haven’t written anything about black people, so this was a first. Don’t worry though, I’m not going to write anymore stories about little black boys drowning in water towers, or at least I don’t think I will.

Indept. piece #5 -- The water tower

Jack and Ben had been friends for four years until that fateful Sunday afternoon. Ben was born and raised in Arizona. A true native, he had dusty blonde hair with freckles that danced across the bridge of his nose onto his cheeks. His fair complexion was tarnished from years in the burning Midwestern sun, but he never minded. He always fancied himself as a replica of Tom Sawyer in The Adventure of Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain, but he never told anyone that. When Ben was 9, Jack moved to his town. His skin was a rich brown with an ebony birth mark on the inside of his arm. Not too many people would talk to him. He was slightly overweight and his family didn’t have much money. However, none of that mattered to Ben.

Quickly, Ben and Jack hit it off. They hung out after class and rode their bikes to the general store every Thursday to buy pop rocks, sometimes Bill Reilly would give them free lemon drops if they promised to do well in school. Jack was always bright in school, after school he’d help Ben with homework. All the teachers enjoyed having Jack in school. He was quiet and obedient. Sometimes late at night, Ben would wish he was as smart as Jack, but it was okay, he didn’t really mind.

Summer was the best time of all. Everybody was out of school. On specifically brutal days the Fire Department would open the hydrants and let the local urchins scamper through the mist. At night, Jack and Ben would climb to the top of the town water tower and reminisce. They would tell tales of dragons and ghosts, monsters and beasts. Nothing really mattered to them. It was summer, it was time to relax. Often on starry nights they would talk about their dreams, how they wanted to make it big in the city; be huge.

Eventually, they grew to love the water tower. They loved the way the moss grew on the outside of the steel walls, the flagrant stale smell of the water, and the red rust caked on the lining. It all held great memories; Ben’s first kiss, Jack’s journey into acceptance of his mother’s death. The water tower loomed over the town. It seemed to be the star of the town. The first thing you noticed as you drove into town and the last thing you thought about as you left. The tower was the idol of the town, in a way it represented the dreams of Ben’s and Jack’s future lives.

One summer day the sun was merciless. It beat down on the town, warning of its force and destruction. Arizona was in the middle of a drought. It hadn’t rained for 3 months so the fire department couldn’t risk opening the hydrants. Ben and Jack climbed to the top of the tower
“You know, we could just pop this lid and swim in here. Its cool and nobody will be able to see us,” said Ben “C’mon, I’ll do it, if you do it.”
“I don’t know. It’s kinda scary and like there’s all that moss and nasty shit in the water.” Jack cautiously explained.
“Wimp, just come with me, it’ll be fine.”
Jack didn’t want to tell the real reason of his hesitation. He felt self conscience. In school it was torture, he didn’t need anymore from Ben. But as always, he gave in and just followed Ben.

Ben kicked open the bolted latch. Jack was right about one thing, there sure was nasty shit in the water. It smelled horrid, but still, it was better than facing the sun’s wrath. They could see the ladder leading down into the water. It disappeared after 40 feet into the engulfing blackness. Ben ushered Jack to go first. Slowly he crept down the ladder. After perhaps, 20 rungs, he just held his breath and jumped into the slimy black water. As he rose to the surface he let out a slight gasp. This was disgusting; he couldn’t do this, no way, no how. “Don’t bother coming down, this is sick. I’m out,” yelled Jack. Ben peered down. It was strange, to Jack; Ben almost looked like he was contemplating something grave. “What? What is it?” bothered Jack.

Ben glowered at Jack. A deviant look crossed his face, he smiled. Ben closed the latch of the tower, locked it, and hopped off the tower on to the railing beneath him. Jack screeched within the tower, his panicked howls were barely audible from outside. Surely, nobody would think of here. Nobody would find him. No, most certainly not.

Intro. to Indept. piece #4

Really, I’m running out of ideas. I can’t think of anything to write. Perhaps it’s a severe case of laziness or maybe I’m just written out. I can’t seem to keep with too many stories. This one was just a sad attempt to alleviate any chance of being taken seriously, although I don’t think anyone was going to consider me a real writer. Anyway, I thought it would be funny to suggest some completely random plot line, believe me; my next story is going to be even weirder. But who doesn’t love a strange take on a child’s game? From “nose goes” to “eenie, meenie, miney, moe”. Everything can be solved with these little games, so why not mess them up a little. Well, that’s about it, I need suggestions for my following stories, because I’m losing it.