Last revised - 2-22-05


Open scene: a sparsely populated restaurant. Dominate color is red. The sound of people eating around the characters can be heard.

Sam (narrated): In retrospect, it was all easier back in the day. I had it all together and didn't even know it. I had it easy. I wanted all the wrong things and fucked it up and made it so much more complicated. Kids have the right idea. It's better to play the day away while somebody else, your parents, your teachers, the (somewhat sarcastic) friendly police officer around the corner, caters to all of your needs. Hindsight is a bitch. She lures you in with her tempting outlook on things. But then she lets you down in the end by reminding you that you can't have her. You can look but don't touch. She's there, but you're where you are. Shit.

Sam and Leah are the dominate characters...

Sam sits at a table, alone, looking confident but impatient. The camera faces him head on but he looks at his plate, his watch, around the restaurant, etc.

Leah enters from behind the camera and sits down with the back of her head to camera.

Sam: Er... hi.

Leah: Sam?
(asking who he is)

Sam: Yes... Leah?
(confirming his identity and then asking her who she is)

(cut or pan to the side of the table so Sam is on the left and Leah on the right)

Leah: Hi. Pleased to meet you.
(she extends her left hand while Sam extends his right, realizes he's extended the wrong hand, and switches)

Sam: Likewise, yes.

Leah: This is a nice place. Very... expensive.
(looking around - attempting to mask concern over the price)

Sam: Shrugging. It's near home. What can I say? They serve marvelous chicken strips. You should try them with ranch or honey mustard...

Leah: I'm a Vegan. I should probably tell you that up front so you aren't put off by my inability to consume the fleshy chunks of a dismembered animal of some sort.
(interupting)

Sam: Oh... yeah... that's fine. I think it said that in the letter they sent me. I must have forgotten.

Leah: But I'm certain the salad is to die for. Simply to die for.

Sam: I wouldn't know...
(trailing off - an awkward silence and then he regains composure)
Sam: So, you're a pharmacy tech?

Leah: Yeah... yeah... my attempt at fighting the injustice of a cruel world. Mother Theresea fed starving children in the streets of Calcutta and in her spirit, I serve elderly men their life-saving Warfarins, of which there are many.
(lacksidasically)

Sam: Actually, I bet it's an interesting job.

Leah: You'd lose the bet, Sam. It's five to six hours a day standing in a brightly-lit room in a lab coat dealing with pissed-off senior citizens complaining because they want more then you gave them or the bottle's not orange like they're used to or like Mr. Rucker who likes to "accidentally" push the bottle off the counter with his prescription and when you go to pick it up and he stares down the front of...
(she trails off)
...and what do you do? Your file didn't say...

Sam: I do lots of things.

Leah: I mean, how, sir, do you earn your paychecks?

Sam: (smiling) The usual. I bother people in a shallow attempt to sell them things they don't need.

Leah: What kinds of things? Like sofa tables made of swiss cheese?

Sam: (laughing) No... like medical term life insurance, long distance phone service, credit cards with 35% interest rates, timeshares...

Leah: Oh shit. You're a telemarketer.

Sam: (shifts in his seat at the mention of the word) We prefer "Call Service Representative" or...
(voice deepens to sound official)
Sam: "C... S... R..." (ennunciating each letter with pompous silliness)

Leah: I fucking hate you guys! (she laughs)

Sam: I fucking hate us guys too.

(they both laugh)
(suddenly, they both stop and straighten up looking slightly toward the camera)

Sam: Sorry... um... I'll have the chicken strips... give me... Ranch sauce, please... and cross-cut fries...
(she disjointedly studies her fork and knife)
Oh... Cherry Coke... no ice...
(wait for waiter who is never heard)

Leah: Salad? I was thinking of just a plain salad. The... (reading with pauses between each word) Light Country Spring Salad... but, hold the eggs, please. No boiled eggs.
(pause)

Leah: No... (shaking head) the water is fine.
(She raises the glass, of which all the ice cubes have nearly melted)
(She turns to look at her plate and then unfolds the napkin)

Sam: Yeah... I'm a telemarketer... so if you think you deal with pissed off people.

Leah: What made you choose that line of service to society, Sam?

Sam: Heh... (pauses as if gathering his thoughts) sometimes you don't choose things, as much as you might try.

Leah: I guess. I mean, there's lots of things I wouldn't have chosen for myself (pauses) but... (pauses) here I am.

Sam: Yeah... I mean, I'm considering going back to finish school.

Leah: You're a little old for the playground.

Sam: Oh... college. U.G.A. Psychology and Education. I was going to be a guidance counselor. (quickly correcting himself) Or I am, rather.

Leah: Sam, Sam, Sam. Can't you pick an occupation that people like and respect?

Sam: Heh... apparently I'm doomed to a career of disdain and lowliness. As I said... we don't always choose things.

Leah: So... did you want to talk about... you know?

Sam: I know? (curiously)

Leah: Well, you know... the subject will come up sooner or later.

Sam: The... the subject? Oh! Yeah... the... the attempt.

Leah: Yes. "The Attempt," as you so distantly put it.

Sam: Well, I don't know. That doesn't seem like a positive thing to discuss on a first date.

Leah: It's going to come up. Look... if it makes you uncomfortable, I don't mind telling you about mine...

Sam: Well, I mean, job stuff is really good for-

Leah: (interrupting) Look... it's part of why we met. It's what brought us together.

NARRATION: For a second, right there, I knew I should have called the date off. It was clear this was a bad idea.

Leah: About a year ago I was in this relationship with this guy, Phil Stein... Philly they called him sometimes... big fellah... broad shoulders... worked construction... nice ass...
(she trails off realizing she's getting awkwardly intimate about Phil's appearance)
(food arrives. The waiter is still unseen)

Leah: Oh... the italian is fine. Or oil and vinegar.
(she turns back, clearly excited to share this story)
(Sam proceeds to chew his food, slowly)

Leah: We were great together for a long time. He's a good guy. He knows the words to all the Carpenter's songs by heart. Every Sha-la-la-la and all that shit. Top of the world, you know? Really groovy cat. Not as smart as Mr. Telemarketer here but, still... Things were going great but Phil started doing... um... he started doing heroin.

Sam: Heroin? Shit...

Leah: Yeah... I mean, I can love him if he's strung out but his personality changed. We kind of drifted apart. You know how it is when you love someone? I mean, really love someone, and they destroy themselves?

Sam: Well... I mean...

Leah: You start fucking blaming yourself for it. Shit that you never did always seems like it's your fucking fault. You know, all the cash between us would disappear right up his veins and I'm pulling double shifts wondering why I can't do more to help him. Why I'm not good enough.

Sam: Damn.

Leah: And, you know, he talks less and gets this glazed, hollow look all the time as if he's just seen his new puppy get flattened under a trailer truck and you're left on burial duty. What the fuck do you do in a situation like that? Leave the poor fucker to dope himself into a coma?

Sam: I don't know. I mean, my room mate... he's a bit of a pothead but I don't know anyone on heroin.

Leah: It fucks you up, Sam. It fucks you up bad. I tried it once, just to go to that magical place he seemed to think could replace our relationship. It was a dead fucking end.

Sam: Yeah...

Leah: Now I'm starting to see my father all over again. After my mom died, he became this raging alcholoic. He never hit me or anything but I saw him collapse into this pile of sadness that looks like my father. Now I'm seeing this with Philly. And one day I come home from pulling one of the over-night late shifts helping sub for front counter, which I'm not supposed to do, really since us Pharm Techs aren't trained for that... and he's gone.

Sam: Gone?

Leah: Yeah... see, Philly would just seclude himself in the bedroom listening to the Moody Blues and tapping out on that heroin shit, and eventually, he'd run out and get irritable and just try and sleep and then I'd give him some money to buy him more.

Sam: Did he quit his job?

Leah: If you call being escorted by two co-workers to the curb and told that if you come back they'd crack your fucking skull open with a tack hammer, then yes.

Sam: Shit.

Leah: Anyway, he'd never leave the house. Dealers would stop by and leave but he never left. He got hooked because he was friends with so many dealers. Or at least friendly people who were dealers. Friends don't give you poison for money and leave your ass to die in your rec room. So when I come home and he's gone, I start looking around. Money, still there. There's a half-finished bag of heroin on the night stand by the alarm clock. All the ingrediants to keep Philly there but he is somewhere else.

Sam: What happened? Did he leave you?

Leah: I start making calls and turns out one of his dealer friends took him to the hospital. He said it was bad. I hung up angry at the motherfucker. What can I do? It's my fault, I keep telling myself. My fucking fault. So I got a double-edged razorblade from the bathroom cubby and slit my wrists. Down for real. Always down for real.
(she holds up her arm which is scarred down the wrist for about two inches)

Sam: Wow. That's... that's amazing... I can't even imagine. So... did he die?

Leah: No... he didn't even O.D. It was an accident.

Sam: What?

Leah: No... he was walking across the living room and tripped on the coffee table and broke his ankle in two places.

Sam: Shit!

Leah: No shit! (laughing) Here he is, all strung out and ready to buy and his dealer buddy watches it happen and is, like, 'Dude... what the fuck?' Get this... Philly lands on his back but his arm hits the table and knocks this bowl of popcorn into the air and it lands on his head like a helmet!
(they both laugh)

Leah: So this dealer guy... Greg... he takes Philly to the E.R., broken leg, strung out and covered with pop corn. The E.R. people certainly had a fun time with that. He said he remembers smelling like salt and butter and all the nurses being confused about where the popcorn smell was coming from.

Sam: And then?

Leah: ...and then? That's it. The social services people come around and tell him he needs rehab and he checks himself into the Apollo Addiction Recovery Center and thus ends our odd relationship.

Sam: Wow.

Leah: Lucky for me I get another call on the phone and they straighten everything out and I bandage myself up.

Sam: Wait... you slit your wrists, and then you decided to answer the phone?

Leah: Who wants a phone ring tone to interrupt their suicide?

Sam: Good point...

Leah: However, I guess it was fitting. My ring tone at the time was "The End of the World" by R.E.M.

(pauses as check arrives)

Sam: I've got it.

(end scene)





open scene: Sam and Leah walk up a sidewalk to a hotel.

Sam: So... are you staying here?

Leah: Yeah... for now.

Sam: Can I see you again?

Leah: I'd like that. I'd like that a lot.

Sam: I have to work tomorrow... you know, harrassing people and all.

Leah: (slight laugh) Well, don't put your heart into it.

Sam: I haven't had much heart to put into anything, lately.

Leah: It was really nice meeting you.

Sam: Likewise...

(he extends a hand to shake)
(he is taken by surprise when she hugs him)

Leah: Later.

Sam: Later.

(end scene)


(open scene)
A semi-nice apartment living room. Sam and Owen sit next to each other on a couch. Sam is reading "Ground Beneath Her Feet" while Owen is taking hits from a pipe.

Owen: (coughing) Dude... I'm auctioning off my virginity to the highest bidder on eBay.

Sam: I assume by "highest" you mean "most stoned."

Owen: Whatever works, my man...

Sam: (looking at him with disgust) Do you have any shirts that AREN'T stained?

Owen: Do I give a rat's ass? Not all the jobs in the world require ties and nice shoes.

Sam: And some don't even require clean drug tests.

OWEN
That reminds me, I've got this bump on my head, I don't remember having it until like a
year ago.  I don't really think it's an implant or anything, but I
can't think of what else it could be.  Here feel my head, it's
subcretaceous.

SAM
Subcutaneous.

SAM
Yeah, I can feel it actually, I can move it around a little.  It's
definitely under there.  Maybe it's a bone fragment.  Were you ever
hit on the head?

OWEN
I don't remember, I don't think so.

SAM
Maybe you can't remember because you were hit on the head.

OWEN
Maybe I can't remember because they wiped my memory.

SAM
I don't think that's actually possible -- Wiping someone's memory.

OWEN
Then how come I can't remember how it got there?

* knocking at door *

Owen: Dude. I'm not here.

Sam: Sorry... I can't hear you. You're not here.

Owen: Shut the fuck up. If it's for me, tell them to go away. Tell them I'm not here.

Sam: Don't you think your bright-ass banana yellow car in the driveway is a dead giveaway?

* knocking again... harder this time *

Owen: Shit! Um... if it's Rakeem tell him I'm sick in bed or something. I'm really under the 
weather. I just don't want to talk to that fucker.

Sam: Yeah... I'll do that.

* he gets up, opens the door *

Sam: Hi Rakeem. Are you looking for Owen? He's right over there...
(pointing)

Owen: Fuck you, man!

A LITTLE GUY (Rakeem) and a BIG GUY (Eric) are standing on a porch, our POV is that of
the ROOMMATE's looking out towards the street.  Behind the TWO GUYS is
a small boxy 80's four door car like a Toyota Corolla or a Celica. 
The car is painted up to resemble the USS Enterprise.  The LITTLE GUY
talks kind of like Kirk and the BIG GUY is mostly just quiet.  The BIG
GUY is holding a notebook out as the LITTLE GUY flips through the
pages.

LITTLE GUY
Owen! Good to see you're well! It sounded like you were going to get sick a minute ago. That's how it sounded... through the door. Would you join me in my office?
(he motions to the porch)

Let's see... April 19... $150 for a half ounce... you said you'd pay
me next thursday [flips through some more pages]  May Day... Eighty
bucks said you'd pay me on the weekend.  May 23... a whole ounce...
and in lieu of payment you tell me to hang on to your guitar, which I
still have.  [BIG GUY slams notebook shut]  As far as I can tell you
owe me and my first officer 580 dollars.  That's a lot of money.  I
stopped by the pawn shop ---

OWEN
-- Oh, man, don't pawn it --

LITTLE GUY
-- they said they'd give me only $150 for the guitar --

OWEN
-- $150? I paid 600 bucks for that guitar, that's a Simon and Patrick,
it's made in Quebec.

LITTLE GUY
Owen, I'm not going to pawn your guitar, I'm just trying to scare you
in to paying me my money.  But really would you be suprised if I did
sell your guitar?

OWEN
Jesus, if you're not going to pawn it then don't even talk like that,
you know I love that guitar -- look, you know I'll pay you your money
eventually --

LITTLE GUY
-- No, I don't, Owen, I don't know that.

OWEN
I've always come through in the past, there's always ways to make
money, you of all people know that.  I've just run in to a little cash
flow problem as of late.  I've been buying from you for years.  It's
only been a few months, you know.  I'm pretty sure I'll be able to pay
you back next month.

LITTLE GUY
Pretty Sure?  Pretty Sure?  That's not what I want to hear, Owen.

OWEN
Okay, I'm more than just a pretty sure.  I've really sure.

LITTLE GUY
No you're not -- Look, Owen, why did you call me out here if not to
give me my money?  Please don't tell me you want me to front you
again.

OWEN
I just want an Eighth of your best stuff, I've got money [OWEN digs in
to his pants pocket and pulls out an unorganized jumble of dollar
bills, receipts, and his liscence and bank card, we have a closeup of
this junk for the next few lines as OWEN fishes out 40 dollars]

LITTLE GUY
Look, I don't have any red hairs, but I've got something just as good,
it's from Alaska.

OWEN
Alaska?

LITTLE GUY
Yeah, I know a guy who lives outside of Anchorage, he works at the
FedEx hub up there and sends his stuff out all over the world.

OWEN
How'd you meet him?

LITTLE GUY
At that convention in _____ last year.

OWEN
Yeah, I remember that, you met Q there right? [OWEN hands over 40 bucks]

LITTLE GUY
And Data.  [LITTLE GUY turns and heads to the car leaving BIG GUY and
OWEN in silence.]

BIG GUY
So, how's your mom?

OWEN
She's been pretty good, she bought and RV and she's driving all over
the south-west, got a postcard from her yesterday from Phoenix.

BIG GUY
Did she see the lights?

OWEN
I doubt it.

[LITTLE GUY comes skipping back and hands OWEN a very small plastic
bag with what looks like very kind bud in it]

LITTLE GUY
Here, smell that.

OWEN
Smells like pine trees.

LITTLE GUY
That's the shit man!

OWEN
Live Long and Prosper.

[end of scene]

My dad always said, God just forgot to kill me.  Pretty shitty thing
to say, even if he is right.



open scene: A park on a sunny day. Dominate color is vivid, bright blue, like Cyan. Sam standing at a picnic table. On the table sits a basket. He looks impatient.

Leah arrives and he brightens up. She hugs him and again, he isn't expecting it.

Leah: Oh! Wow! This is something...

Sam: Well, just a little something I threw together.

(he opens the basket and takes out some salads and bottle of dressing.

Leah: Salad? Not really a second date meal, is it?

Sam: They were fresh out of brie at the grocery store.

(Leah sits down at the table)
(pan around to the two of them facing each other)

Leah: Italian! Very nice!
(she picks up the dressing)

Sam: Thanks... I have bread too...

(he unwraps a medium-sized loaf of french bread)

Sam: Margerine spread?

Leah: Oh... thanks... but...

Sam: I checked around. This brand is non-dairy...

Leah: They make non-dairy margerine?

Sam: Apparently. I think they use vegetable cows for it or something.

Leah: (laughing) I hope they have vegetable farmers to milk them!

Sam: Heh... yeah...

Leah: Sam?

Sam: Mmm-hmm?

Leah: When you... when you tried to kill yourself, did you think about the future?

Sam: Um... I guess I didn't think about anything but the moment, you know.

Leah: I thought about the future. I thought about my family and friends. It's funny. You have this moment of passion that you succumb to. Like a wave flowing over you... some sort of electric current riding your very soul... everything is clear at that moment. It seems like the best possible choice... the only possible choice... like you're guided....

Sam: Maybe...

Leah: But I had thoughts about the future. And somehow, even though I shouldn't be in it, I was. You know, I expected to die but it's so hard to seperate yourself from reality... to imagine a world without you in it. You know?

Sam: Not really... sometimes I think... I don't know... that it's already like that. It's as if I stopped existing a while ago. You know... my parents... they are these people. I see them every so often. We might eat dinner together and watch some TV... maybe watch the news, a gameshow. I go home, they stay home. Nothing changes. We don't talk about anything important. We talk, but we don't communicate. It's like I'm not even there.

Leah: But you have friends...

Sam: I have people I'm friendly with. I mean, Jake, my room mate... he's a good guy... when he's not smoked out... you know, high?

Leah: High.

Sam: But... you know, if I didn't live there, someone else would. Someone else would be filling my void. And at times, I just feel like I don't belong... anywhere...

Leah: Really? I like you a lot, Sam.

Sam: Like me? Come on! That's sweet but you don't even know me... not really...

Leah: I know you're a sympathetic person with drive and ambition.

Sam: Not lately.

Leah: I imagine buried somewhere under these hard times is a little spark of fortitude.

Sam: Hm... if you find it, let me know so I can extinguish it.

Leah: No... really... I see you going places, Sam.

Sam: Maybe...

(awkward silence)

Sam: You know, I brought you here because it's so pretty this time of year.

Leah: It's nice... not exactly the type of thing I do... kind of sappy, really...

Sam: I'm a hopeless romantic.

Leah: Nobody is hopeless. That's something my counselor told me.

Sam: Heh... yeah... I guess.

Leah: Look, we should go do something fun.

Sam: This isn't fun?

Leah: It's nice but... I don't know... hey... want something other than salad?

Sam: Um... I mean, I brought bread and-

Leah: (interrupting) Bread read ed... I know... come on!

Sam: Okay... well, let me finish my salad...

Leah: You won't need it. Salad is for first dates in nice restaurants... come on!

(he packs up very quickly into the basket and they leave)

(end scene)



open scene: camera closes up to a sign with removable letters - the kind you see at wedding receptions in hotels. It reads "Harrington Room - Carolynn and Robert Roy Nuptials." Sam and Leah walk up to it.

Sam: Why didn't you tell me you were attending a wedding today?

Leah: I'm not...

Sam: You're not?

Leah: Come on!

(she grabs his arm and pulls him into the reception hall)

(cut to inside the reception hall where many guests are seated. Clearly the reception has started some 20 minutes ago or so and the bride and groom have yet to arrive)






A FEW SCENES LATER...








SAM (narration):

Things used to be a lot easier. I mean, most of the time, I considered work and career advancement to be the central focus of a healthy day, but then you look around those cubes and you see the sad, pathetic pieces of shit you work with and realize that most of them last knew the touch of a woman when their mothers sent them off to grade school. I mean, these are guys whose entire office space is lined, not with photos of the wife and kids, but collectable Star Trek movie posters they bought off eBay. (shot of Rakeem) Not that I'm any better. See... I do have a photo frame on my desk. Depending on who is asking, it's my cousin or an Aunt who, through circumstance, just happens to be close to my age. But sometimes, it's my girlfriend. Just sometimes, depending on who's asking. I have to be really careful how I lie about that. Not that I'm patently dishonest. No more dishonest then most of you on an average day. You have no idea. But still, I digress. Eventually you have to face up to reality. That moment came for me... heh... came... yes it came for me while I was jerking off and I realized, I'm fantasizing about the girl in the picture. This paid model who was rented for a weekend shoot so some frame company had a photo enticing enough to put in their frame when they sold it only to have her photo tossed out and replaced by a real loved one. In some ways she should be happy to know that for someone, somewhere, she meant a little bit more for just a moment. But then, here I am, arched back in the company bathroom stall, whacking off on the company dime to a girl in a picture frame and I'm PRETENDING she's my girlfriend. I'm actually feeding myself my own stupid lie. How fucking pathetic is that? As pathetic as looking for love from girls who've given up on life in general and will settle for anything that tolerates them? Still, Leah was different. So different she made the very idea of different seem ordinary.

(scene is a cozy diner - dominate colors are grey, white and red - Sam wears grey, Leah wears red)

LEAH:
Since when do you go to places like this?

SAM:
You don't like it here?

LEAH:
No... it's cool. I just don't get YOU picking this out on your lonesome.

SAM:
I thought it would be... I don't know... spontaneous. Different.

LEAH:
In other words, (she makes quote symbols with her fingers) "Not Sam."

SAM:
Yeah... well maybe... maybe it's kind of (he makes quote symbols with his fingers) "Leah-esque."

LEAH:
Do they serve chicken? I really could use a chicken sandwich...

SAM:
I'm not sure. I've never been here before (he trails off that thought suddenly changing gears with surprise)...
Since when do you eat meat?

LEAH:
Chicken isn't red meat, Sam.

SAM:
I know but I didn't say, "red meat." I said "meat," as in animal flesh in general. I wasn't catagorizing meat into groups. That's silly.

LEAH:
Well you should consider it. For one thing, abstaining from red meat greatly improves the health of your colon. Every worry about your colon, Sam?

SAM:
Not at dinner. Look... I'm just saying, when we met, you were a vegetarian. Now you-

LEAH:
(interupting) ...now I eat dead animals. Look Sam... I don't know why I feel differently about it but I do. I dunno. I want to call it ethics but...

SAM:
Don't you believe in anything? I mean, really? (he knocks on the table) This table is real. (it wobbles a bit)

LEAH:
I believe our waiter is more than a little slow to take our order.

SAM:
Look... if you don't want to talk about it, I understand. I want to respect your views but I have to know what they are before I can respect them. I mean, one minute you're talking about how important Paul McCartney's wife dying is to you and next you tell me that you don't even care about all the Paul is dead stuff I looked up for you on the internet. I never know where you are...

LEAH:
I'm right here, baby. Look... let's go somewhere.

SAM:
Aren't you hungry?

LEAH:
Yeah... but let's go get something to eat somewhere else.

SAM:
Where? Like a funeral?

LEAH:
Maybe.

SAM:
Or a bar mitzivah. Come on... some people pay for things. They earn money... real life.

LEAH:
That's their problem, isn't it. It's not MY problem.

SAM (narration):
And like that, we're off... and she knows these things like the back of her hand. The plaza at the S.K. Tre and Imani Center of the Arts is on the far side of town off Brown Boot Circle and today they are having some sort of non-invitation members banquet for something called The Fat Lip Atlanta Jerk Club, and all these beer-bellied slobs and their families are gathered in this run-down center to make really crude jokes that embaress some of the attendees. We stand out like two sore thumbs on the same hand. I mean, it's gratuitous how Leah can slip it to the world like this. She discovered a long time ago that nobody was actually enforcing the honor system and that was her ticket. And just like always, things only get stranger from there.

(at an old podium with a feedbacking mike stands a red-faced, unshaven guy - mid to late forties - in a flannel shirt wearing a cowboy hat. His nickname is Acey. He's addressing a munching group of gathered families and friends. The friends are all similar in appearance and attitude to him. Some are drunk. All are laughing. The families are more reserved and most appear to be tolerating the entire event with disdain, wanting to be somewhere else. A few of the younger boys, starting to already look like their fathers, are getting into the event, however.)

ACEY:
...and I told him... I said, Slug... you sum bitch... you done it again!
(hacking laughs - the men in the crowd respond with the same - cackles... applause Acey wipes a tear from the corner of his eye) ...but hey... Slug was a good guy with the ladies, though. He told me one time, he said (Acey drops his voice as deep as he can) "ACEY... you know I think I dreamed up the perfect woman. No teeth, three feet tall, ears like handlebars and a flat head you can put a drink on!" (more laughter) That Slug. I tell you what... that sum bitch. Well...

Aesop steps up to the mike. He looks like the rest of them and talks with a thicker drawl. He's a few years older, perhaps mid-fifties.

AESOP:
Thanks Acey... you're right. I wish Slug was here tonight with us to enjoy this momentous occasion. I know we all miss old Slug... anyone else want to speak about Slug?

From the back, Leah's hand shoots up quickly like an anxious school child.
Aesop eyes her for a second, squinting. He leans forward to get a better look at her and the mike feedsback.

AESOP:
Come on up here, young lady... tell us about Slug... he'd like to hear it. Especially someone as pretty and young as you.

Cut to a closeup of Sam and Leah.

SAM (whispering sort of):
What do you get out of this? You're just going to hurt their feelings. This guy is dead.

LEAH (also whispering):
What would Old Slug think?

SAM (still whispering but raising his voice):
He'd probably think... he'd think...

LEAH (firm but whispering):
He'd think this was great. He'd be glad I remembered him.

SAM (raising voice):
Old Slug would NEVER remember you! He's worm food and -

Suddenly Sam realizes everyone is looking at them and maybe can hear what they are saying. Leah siezes the opportunity to hop out of her chair and gallop up the podium. Sam shakes his head and buries it in his hands, beating the top of his head with his fist. Leah takes the podium with a vigor that warms the crowd a bit. She smiles, waves and starts to speak, completely lacking any fear.

LEAH:
Slug was like a Grandfather to me and Sam. He'd come by and we knew it was him. He always had that smell about him. I don't remember what brand it was but you know. That... "Slug... Smell."

Someone in the crowd shouts "Elephant Butts!" and the crowd laughs slightly.

Aesop leans to the mic, although he's seated and his voice barely carries:

AESOP:
That's a brand of chewing tobacco... although he sometimes did smell like an elephant's ass!

Some crowd laughter.

LEAH:
Yeah... he used to spit that everywhere. Ashtrays... candy dishes... one time Sam, my boyfriend (she motions at Sam) he had this project he was working on for art class... it was a paper mache bowl and he had painted the face of Mother Theresa in it. She'd just died at the time and anyway... Slug had just come back from a date with my father and he drops this huge glob right in the bowl. There's the good sister Theresa with Old Slug's spit right in the middle of her face! Oh... Sam was so mad. He had to paint it all over again because it wasn't dry yet and it ended up looking like... (she pauses, clearly searching for the name of a country music singer) ...like Toby Keith.

Crowd laughter. Sam looks up, a complete look of shock on his face.

LEAH:
Yeah... another time, I walked in on Dad and him holding hands by the fireplace and I saw his fly was down and I said, "Hey Slug... looks like the front door is open," and pointed at his fly and he looks up at me with a grin and says (she deepens her voice), "That's for easy access, baby!"

Raucous crowd laughter. Cut to Sam looking frantic. He glances around. They seem oblivious to her hints.

LEAH:
And I don't know if anyone here ever mentioned the time Old Slug and my dad were making out at the campground wearing sun dresses they bought at the antique mall when this cop pulled up and asked what was going on (laughter starts to die down - Aesop seems confused - murmers in the crowd) and the cop asks them what they think they're doing and Slug looks at him and says, (deep voice) "We're having a luau. I was just waiting for the pig to arrive!" (she giggles) and then the cop pulls out a ticket and Slug says-

Aesop has gotten out of his seat during this last story and advanced to the mike. He cuts her off mid-sentence and the look of confused anger on his face is only held back by his obvious attempt to maintain order in the gathering and figure out what has happened later.

AESOP:
Heh... thanks for your words Lindsay.

LEAH:
Leah!

AESOP:
Leah... yes... well... we all remember Slug had run ins with the police a few times. One time I remember he was out fishing on the preserve at Pete Nice Research Hatchery and this security guard caught him with his pole cast out into the tank pulling all these huge trout out of the tank...

Leah walks back to Sam who by now is pacing around the table nervously. People next to him are eyeing him angrily. The two march out silently as the crowd behind them laughs at another thing Aesop has said. Once safely outside, Sam, seemingly hysterical, angry and happily amused bellows:

SAM:
I... can't FUCKING BELIEVE you were able to say those things. I mean, I get stage fright just LOOKING at an open microphone like that. You know, when I was in high school, I was in the marching band...

LEAH:
Third chair triangle?

SAM:
No... trombone.

LEAH:
That makes sense. You seem like somebody who would play trombone.

SAM:
What kind of profile is there on trombone players? I mean, how do you judge the characteristics of- (trailing off to regain his thoughts) look... all I'm saying is that I was in the marching band and we had to do the half time show... you know, choreographed marching and playing... the whole band moving around on the field manuevering to form different shapes and-

LEAH interupting):
I'm familiar with half-time shows, Sam.

SAM:
Yeah... well, I'm out there with, like 150 other people, right? And we're all wearing uniforms. I mean, we look the same. But for some reason, all those people, I'd get stage fright. I'd have to take Tums and I'd get so nervous and just shake and shake like a scared puppy. Once I even threw up I was so nervous right next to the refreshment stand... and this girl and her boyfriend were walking by just seconds later and I saw her slip in my puke and fall down. I felt TERRIBLE.

LEAH:
Because of the marching band?

SAM:
I don't know. I guess I'm not the kind of guy who likes to be in the spotlight.

LEAH:
Oh... you should try it some times. It's liberating.

SAM:
That was terrible. Those poor people and their beloved... whatever... I don't know... they will never remember him the same. Every time they think back, they'll wonder if that awkward glance, that seemingly innocent remark... if he really was playing for the other team... you know.

LEAH:
What a bunch of sexist ASSHOLES. They deserved it. I wish I could have told them about the time Slug accidently ran into his father's old army buddy on the other end of a glory hole. That one was REALLY funny.

SAM:
Come on. Let's get out of here before they start lighting the torches and sharpening pitchforks.

LEAH:
Your place?

SAM:
Not a good idea. Turns out Owen gets this Summer bonus...

LEAH:
Summer bonus?

SAM:
Yeah... they stopped giving them at Christmas. Not P.C. enough.

LEAH:
P.C.?

SAM:
Politically correct. You've never heard that before?

LEAH:
Like not Republican enough?

SAM:
No... tolerance. Christmas bonuses were intolerant of people who don't celebrate and- you've NEVER heard of Politically Correct?

LEAH:
Is it something on TV? I don't watch TV... remember?

SAM:
You dirty hippy.

LEAH (hugging him):
Well we should take a bath together.

Sam pauses for a moment as if the idea really turns him on but he wants to remain cool and composed.

SAM:
Well, anyway... Owen got this Summer Bonus since they don't give out Christmas bonuses any more...

LEAH:
And the grass really is greener on the other side?

SAM:
It's certainly greener in his bong. It'd be like a bath house run by Cheech and Chong. I have a random drug text coming up. I know it. Just one contact buzz and I'm history.

She hugs him again.

LEAH:
Well, the hotel awaits us.

SAM:
Hotel?

Cut to an elevator in a hotel. Leah is thumbing through an address book. Sam is confused. During the conversation they leave the elevator and wander the halls, searching for a room.

LEAH:
So... how did you know?

SAM:
How did I know what?

LEAH:
The drug test is coming if it's random.

SAM:
They've been doing the tests on everybody anyway and right before they test somebody, the boss takes you to lunch for free.

LEAH:
I don't get it.

SAM:
He takes you to this all-you-can-eat buffet and you stuff yourself silly.

LEAH:
And?

SAM:
And the more food you have in your stomach, the better you're going to absorb the drugs you're taking at the time and, in theory, the more accurate the test will be. That's what they told me at the management training session. Owen says that's all bullshit and those guys should read up on it. Anyway... all the management candidates are drug tested and there's like ten of us in the class and the word got spread around somehow. I'm low on the list, alphabetically, but Mr. Masters mentioned he wants to do lunch with me some time next week.

LEAH:
That's your boss' name? Mr. Masters?

SAM:
Well... Mike, actually, but you have to be on his good side to call him that. When he's not around, it's always (he goes into Igor voice) "Yes Master! At once Master!" He can be a real slave driver sometimes.

LEAH:
That's such a strange story. And you figured all that out?

SAM:
So you live here?

LEAH:
No... just staying here for a night or two.

SAM:
Did something happen to your apartment?

LEAH (wistfully):
You could say that, Sam. Oh... here it is! 667!

She pushes open the door. It is not locked and she doesn't even turn the handle. Sam doesn't notice. She flips on the light switch.

LEAH:
Here we are... time for a bath... then a nap.

SAM:
This is nice. Real nice.

It is a luxury suite with lots of space, a couch, full entertainment center and a large bed. He strolls into the main part of it and turns on a few lights along the way.

SAM:
So what's wrong with your apartment?

There is the sound of the bathtub running in the distance.

SAM:
Leah? I mean... what's wrong with your apartment that you're staying here?

He turns and goes back to the bathtub. She has undressed in there and the converation continues from a shot facing the wall concealing the bathroom. Neither of them can be seen.

SAM:
Woah... I mean... sorry... I didn't mean to...

For a second he stumbles backwards into the shot.

LEAH:
Are you taking a bath with me or not? Or are you scared of clean hippies too?

SAM:
I... this is awfully fast and...

LEAH:
It's just a bath, Sam... not a blowjob. Relax...

SAM:
I... I mean... I thought we could hang out and-

LEAH:
SAM. GET... IN... HERE... (she enunciates each word with authority)

Sam slowly walks back in.

SAM (begrudginly like he's giving in because he has no choice):
What the hell...

LEAH:
And get undressed... only a fool would take a bath with his clothes on... or a hippy.

SAM:
Yeah...

Cut to later on. Sam and Leah are sharing the large bathtub which is full of bubbles. They lie in opposite directions. Sam is in front, to the left. Leah is in back, to the right.

SAM:
Can I ask you a personal question?

LEAH:
You can always ask me a personal question. Those are the best kinds of questions. We spend too much of our lives wrapped up in inpersonal bullshit. What time is it? Where should we eat? Nobody wants to get to know anybody any more. I bet you most wives can tell you which tie their husband likes the most, but they can't tell you how he feels when a rainy day reminds him of his childhood.

SAM:
It's not that kind of question. It's kind of shallow and embaressing and... well... never mind.

LEAH:
Embaressing? Oh... come on Sam. (she pounds at the water with a fist playfully) Now you HAVE to ask it.

SAM:
No no no... (re-thinking) NO. Forget I brought it up.

LEAH:
I'm terrible at keeping secrets, Sam. Give me a secret and you might as well rent a billboard and advertise it to the world. That's why I want to know secrets. All the secrets. Because I'm terrible at keeping them. I guess that doesn't really explain why. But anyway... you've got something you want to know and you're afraid to ask and now you want to keep it a secret. TELL ME. I promise not to get mad, no matter how dark and forbidden it is. Those are the best.

SAM:
I... um... I'm just curious why you... you don't...

LEAH:
Out with it, padre!

SAM:
Well... shit... why don't you shave?

LEAH:
Are my legs THAT BAD?

SAM:
I didn't notice your... no! I mean... you don't shave... well... ANYTHING!

LEAH:
The pits?

SAM:
Anything...

LEAH:
The pubes?

SAM:
Uh...

LEAH:
You can say it, Sam. "Peeeeeeew-BIC Haaaaaaair..." (she over-enunciates)

Sam seems uncomfortable.

SAM:
Yeah... the... you know... pubic hair too.

LEAH:
What do you like? The landing strip? The oh-so stylish mo-hawk? Or is the bald thing more to your liking?

SAM:
You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I know it might be a source of embaressment for you.

He sits up in the tub.

LEAH:
I'm not embaressed at all. It seems like you're suffering a case of projected anxiety, padre.

SAM:
Well... maybe.

LEAH:
Sam?

SAM:
Yeah? (sheepishly)

LEAH:
SAM!?

SAM:
Yeah? (more attentive)

LEAH:
Why don't you shave your balls?

SAM:
We don't have to discuss this. I was stupid to have asked.

LEAH:
No... wait a minute. Why don't you shave your balls, Sam? Or your cockmuffin? Or your legs? Or your pits? Or your chest? Or your back for God's sake?

SAM:
I don't have a hairy back...

LEAH:
That's not the point. See... men are supposed to be hairy, right? The're supposed to be these hairy animals and women, well, we can have long hair on our heads, but the rest of it gots to go, right?

SAM:
Well, I mean... yeah... that's kind of the nature of things.

LEAH:
But that's a dirty, fucking lie, Sam. And I won't pull some femenist bullshit and say it's perpetrated by men to keep us down... you know... oppress us with their depilatories and waxes and razor burn... that's stupid. We do it to ourselves. I think we always have. We're just as guilty as our testosterone-induced counterparts.

SAM:
Okay. Fine. I understand...

LEAH:
But women have hair down there, Sam. We all do. Maybe they shave it off for your double you double dot coms or whatever but even those women, when they aren't working... just imagine Chewbacca and he's giving out piggy-back rides for all the ladies and between their legs is a little forest.

SAM:
Okay. I get it.

LEAH:
And see... the pits... the legs... some ladies even grow mustaches, Sam. They wax them off but they grow a damn STACHE. You live in a world of side-show-freak beareded ladies but thanks to the magic of Sally Hansen we make your lives more tolerable and our own so you don't go nuts every time you walk up to us and notice a kidnapper mustache on our upper lips. It hurts and is a major cause of embaressment but we do it for you and for ourselves.

SAM:
That sucks. Look... I like clean-shaven women I guess but I don't want to force anything.

LEAH:
Good because I like total and complete honesty and in this case, the honest truth is that women, myself included, grow some hair in some places men might not be used to seeing it. It's there because God put it there and I'd hate to piss the big guy off by yanking it out. You should try that sometime. Grab a handful and remove the turf. You'll get down and thank the stars you were born a man every time bikini season rolls around.

SAM:
Look... it's okay. It's not a big deal. I love you... all of you... even...

LEAH:
Even my furry beaver?

SAM:
Even your... furry... beaver... (he stutters, clearly uncomfortable with the words - he quickly changes the subject) Look... I'm going to be a prune if I stay in here much longer. And it was so relaxing I'm about to fall asleep.

He gets out, drying himself with a towel.

LEAH (tauntingly):
Well, me and my furry beaver are going to soak for a while longer.

SAM:
Okay... I'm going to lie down. What... what...

LEAH:
What would it take to shave it off?

SAM:
Um... no... I wanted to know what side you prefer. Of the bed, I mean.

LEAH:
The side you're not sleeping in.

She turns on the water again.

There is a knock at the door of the room. She almost doesn't hear it. She's dreary in half-sleep.
The knock is louder. Suddenly the door opens.

She lets out a whelp and sort of ducks her head under water for a second. A man, the hotel manager, storms into the room, glances around and sees the bathtub and her head popping up from under the water. He doesn't speak fluent English and his thick accent is fervent and angry.

MANAGER:
Who the hell are you? What are you doing here?

She hops out of the tub. The manager is overpowered by his surprise and anger and seems oblivious to her nudity. She starts toweling herself off.

MANAGER:
Who the fuck let you in room? The key is still downstairs at desk.

LEAH:
Fuck you! I'm not staying at your fucking hotel if you sick perverted bastards bust into the bathroom to sneak a peek at naked ladies!

She tosses the towel in his face and scoops up her clothes. Sam's voice comes, sleepily from the other side of the suite.

SAM:
Leah? What's going on? Is everything okay?

The manager follows her into the suite. Sam is lying on the bed clothed only in boxer shorts. He's sitting up, clearly confused. As the scene unfolds, Leah is rapidly getting dressed.

MANAGER:
You two get out now! I call police! They come take you to jail! You no stay in my hotel not pay!

SAM:
What?

The manager grabs the side of the bed and attempts to lift it up but it won't budge.

MANAGER:
We call the cops! You go to jail! You steal my room!

LEAH:
Get dressed Sam. We're leaving.

She tosses him his clothes. He begins to put them on.

SAM:
Would someone tell me what this is about?

MANAGER:
You no leave! You stay with police! Then leave! You steal room, you fucks, you.

LEAH:
Come on, Sam!

By now she is dressed and is throwing pillows from the couch, paper advertisements on the nightstand, notepads, hotel pens, whatever she can at the manager. He blocks them with his arms but he does not back down.

MANAGER:
You no go anywhere! You stay right here! The police come arrest you motherfuckers, you both!

They both suddenly make a mad dash out the door and down the hall. The manager is caught off guard by their sudden flight. They run to the elevators and Leah frantically pushes the button over and over like mad.

SAM:
You want to tell me what the hell is going on?

LEAH:
Push the other buttons! (she motions to the other elevator)

SAM:
There's only one button and you pushed it!

The elevator door opens with that tell-tale DING! sound and they both turn their heads to see the Manager coming around the corner. She grabs Sam, throws him inside and tumbles inside herself pushing the button for floor number two and then one.

LEAH:
SHIT! I hit the wrong floor number!

SAM:
Were you... are you... squatting... in a hotel?

LEAH:
Am I what?

SAM:
You know... staying in a room and not paying for it. Damn... is that... what... a felony?

LEAH:
What are you talking about? It's not even a crime!

SAM:
He seemed pretty certain it was.

The door opens for floor number two. An old couple is waiting and start to step to the elevator. They both have a large number of suitcases. She quickly pushes the "Close Door" button.

LEAH (in her best airline stewardess voice):
Sorry! This car is full! Try the next one!

They look confused as the doors close.

SAM:
So it's true? We stole that hotel room.

LEAH:
You can't steal a hotel room, Sam. They seem to be firmly wedged into buildings. It would be like stealing the Eifle Tower or the Grand Canyon.

SAM:
You know what I mean. We didn't have permission to...

The elevator doors open.

LEAH:
Nobody should ever have permission, Sam. There's a big world out there and all you have to do is snatch it up and take it. It's a victimless crime anyway. No real harm done. Hunter S. Thompson didn't ask permission. Neither will I. And he turned hotel rooms into smoldering trash heaps.

They are running down the hall. As they make it through a door, the sound of an elevator door opening up can be heard and suddenly the Manager is behind them, still chasing. They make their way outside and to her car. The manager is chasing still, waving a fist and cursing. He runs to his car which is not terribly far away. This is Leah's car so she is driving. She starts it up and drives off. A chase ensues. It is sunset and there aren't many cars on the road but the two weave and bob through the streets. Her car is obviously faster and both are not skilled race drivers so the chase isn't at terrifically high speeds. She takes a turn into a neighborhood and he follows but she makes a turn and loses him around a bend. She continues driving and the emerges from the neighborhood still driving very fast and right through a stop sign (although there are no cars coming). A police car is parked, idling at a driveway and an officer is talking to a woman in the driveway when he sees her car. He suddenly turns and runs to his car, hops in and pulls up behind her.

SAM:
Oh shit... we're fucked.

LEAH:
That's another thing Hunter S. Thompson did. He wouldn't just pull over for cops. You had to make them really want it. Give them a little chase.

SAM:
WHAT? Oh fuck! You've got to be kidding me!

They pull off again, not at a terrible speed but enough of a chase to make it interesting. At long last they come to a long, narrow two-lane road. She pulls over, lets the car idle and the police car stops behind her. The cop gets out and begins talking on his radio. He pulls out a pad and starts scribbling. He makes his way to the window. She rolls it down.

LEAH:
Hi. How are you?

OFFICER:
Ma'am... may I see your license and registration?

She suddenly lurches the car forward about a foot. This takes the officer by surprise but he regains composure.

LEAH: Sorry... my foot slipped on the break. You know...

She lurches forward again. This time, several feet. He jogs up to her and seems a bit out of breath.

OFFICER: Ma'am... if you don't stop that I'm afraid I'm going to have to give you an additional citation for-

She lurches forward again. This time a few more feet. Again the policeman catches up to her.

LEAH: I'm so sorry, sir. I don't mean to. I'm nervous when I get around policemen. My foot slipped on the break. I swear I'm not doing it on purpose.

He looks in the car, first at her, then at Sam. Sam motions "I don't know," with his mouth and looks back, confused.

OFFICER: Well, ma'am... put your car in park and turn off the engine so we can-

Suddenly Leah zips off. The policeman freezes for a second, looks at them and looks back at his car which is now a considerable distance away. He takes off running for it but by that time they are gone. They never see him again.

SAM:
What the fuck. I can't believe you did that!?

LEAH:
I know! Ain't it cool!

SAM:
He'll arrest us for sure! Didn't he get your license?

LEAH:
He would have... if I had one.

SAM:
You don't have a driver's license?

LEAH:
You can't be a pharm. tech without a valid form of picture I.D., Sam.

SAM:
No! I mean your license plate! He wrote it down!

LEAH:
Come on, Sam. You know me better then that. I never got one. I just change the masking tape on the back of the dealer plate once a month. Nobody cares. Really... you should think about how much money you throw away on your license plate. And besides... having one keeps you from being able to do cool shit like scare cops.

SAM:
Stop the car.

LEAH:
Sam. I think we should take you home. It's been a long day.

SAM:
Stop the car! Stop the car! I want out!

She pulls over. He hops out. He starts walking and she drives slowly next to him with her window down.

LEAH:
Come on... it must be twenty miles to your house. Let me take you home.

SAM:
I can get a fucking cab.

LEAH:
Of course you can. Or you can ride with me. Come on... calm down. It's all over now.

SAM:
You know what?

He turns and crosses his arms on the open window leaning forward to the car.

SAM:
You... you're like an alien. You know that? You just beamed down to our helpless little planet one day and decided things were too simple for us silly humans so you showed up and rammed a big monkey wrench in all the works!

LEAH:
Is this about the beaver thing again because-

SAM:
You steal hotel rooms! You crash wakes! You don't pay your taxes!

LEAH:
I pay my taxes every year, Sam. I don't pay my excise taxes. Be precise.

SAM:
What is life to you? A dream!?

He steps away from the car and starts walking again. She starts following again.

LEAH (singing):
Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream... Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily...

SAM:
That's not funny.

LEAH:
No. It's not, Sam. But look... we've both been there. I can't imagine how it felt when you were looking at those pills and thinking about ending your life but I remember distinctly how I felt when I slit my wrists! And I don't ever want to feel that way again! I want to care about what matters! I want to enjoy what little time we have left! And I'm starting to enjoy it with you! Let's make the MOST of this short excuse for a couple years we call our lives! Carpe diem! Sieze the day! Live it up! Make it all matter! All that shit! Have a cup of coffee!

SAM:
Have a cup of... (slowly and with a bit of sarcasm) look! I just don't know. I mean. I like you, Leah. I really like you. But you're so untamable. You make me feel weak. You make me feel stupid.

LEAH:
Oh... honey.

SAM:
Look... Leah... I really like you.

LEAH:
You said that.

SAM:
I meant it. But... I don't know. You intimidate me.

LEAH:
Maybe we need each other. You could teach me some of that balance and calmness you're so good at. I could teach you how to print bar codes at Kinko's so you can buy your bread loaves at half price.

SAM:
You know... I just don't get it.

LEAH:
What?

SAM:
You. And why I love you. I shouldn't love someone like you.

LEAH:
Well there's tons of things people shouldn't do and you seem to think I do most of them. Why not break this one rule and be with me for a while longer?

SAM:
I... I don't know... I really like you, Leah.

LEAH:
And I need to teach you some new ways to verbally show affection for one's better half you repetitive bastard. Get in my car. I'll take you home.

Sam stops. Seems to think about it for a moment, then gets in the car and they drive off.

Sam (narration):
I'd hate to say I gave in but I did. I gave in. Like that. Leah has this magical talent for getting people to do things. They respond to her in a way I just can't connect with people. She's wired different then the rest of the human race. She knows it and uses it to its full potential. It's part of her, charm, really, and you can't fault the girl for being charming. You can't even fault her for abusing the system. It abuses people like me every day, and we've bought into it.



















Leah:
You know, when you first called me, I thought you were someone I knew in High School.

Sam:
Oh, really?

Leah:
Don't sound so interested, Sam. It's not very important.













Leah:
Dad was real frugal. You know those guys who, when they run out of shampoo, fill the bottle with water and keep washing their hair with that until there are no suds anymore and it's just water?

Sam:
(laughing) Yeah.

Leah:
That's my dad.



Leah's Dad worked for a factory on mostly late shifts and spent a great deal of his money on drink and gambling. Look up illegal gambling in South Carolina during the 70's.















SAM (narration):

Things used to be a lot easier. I mean, most of the time, I considered work and career advancement to be the central focus of a healthy day, but then you look around those cubes and you see the sad, pathetic pieces of shit you work with and realize that most of them last knew the touch of a woman when their mothers sent them off to grade school. I mean, these are guys whose entire office space is lined, not with photos of the wife and kids, but collectable Star Trek movie posters they bought off eBay. (shot of Rakeem) Not that I'm any better. See... I do have a photo frame on my desk. Depending on who is asking, it's my cousin or an Aunt who, through circumstance, just happens to be close to my age. But sometimes, it's my girlfriend. Just sometimes, depending on who's asking. I have to be really careful how I lie about that. Not that I'm patently dishonest. No more dishonest then most of you on an average day. You have no idea. But still, I digress. Eventually you have to face up to reality. That moment came for me... heh... came... yes it came for me while I was jerking off and I realized, I'm fantasizing about the girl in the picture. This paid model who was rented for a weekend shoot so some frame company had a photo enticing enough to put in their frame when they sold it only to have her photo tossed out and replaced by a real loved one. In some ways she should be happy to know that for someone, somewhere, she meant a little bit more for just a moment. But then, here I am, arched back in the company bathroom stall, whacking off on the company dime to a girl in a picture frame and I'm PRETENDING she's my girlfriend. I'm actually feeding myself my own stupid lie. How fucking pathetic is that? As pathetic as looking for love from girls who've given up on life in general and will settle for anything that tolerates them? Still, Leah was different. So different she made the very idea of different seem ordinary.

(scene is a cozy diner - dominate colors are grey, white and red - Sam wears grey, Leah wears red)

LEAH:
Since when do you go to places like this?

SAM:
You don't like it here?

LEAH:
No... it's cool. I just don't get YOU picking this out on your lonesome.

SAM:
I thought it would be... I don't know... spontaneous. Different.

LEAH:
In other words, (she makes quote symbols with her fingers) "Not Sam."

SAM:
Yeah... well maybe... maybe it's kind of (he makes quote symbols with his fingers) "Leah-esque."

LEAH:
Do they serve chicken? I really could use a chicken sandwich...

SAM:
I'm not sure. I've never been here before (he trails off that thought suddenly changing gears with surprise)...
Since when do you eat meat?

LEAH:
Chicken isn't red meat, Sam.

SAM:
I know but I didn't say, "red meat." I said "meat," as in animal flesh in general. I wasn't catagorizing meat into groups. That's silly.

LEAH:
Well you should consider it. For one thing, abstaining from red meat greatly improves the health of your colon. Every worry about your colon, Sam?

SAM:
Not at dinner. Look... I'm just saying, when we met, you were a vegetarian. Now you-

LEAH:
(interupting) ...now I eat dead animals. Look Sam... I don't know why I feel differently about it but I do. I dunno. I want to call it ethics but...

SAM:
Don't you believe in anything? I mean, really? (he knocks on the table) This table is real. (it wobbles a bit)

LEAH:
I believe our waiter is more than a little slow to take our order.

SAM:
Look... if you don't want to talk about it, I understand. I want to respect your views but I have to know what they are before I can respect them. I mean, one minute you're talking about how important Paul McCartney's wife dying is to you and next you tell me that you don't even care about all the Paul is dead stuff I looked up for you on the internet. I never know where you are...

LEAH:
I'm right here, baby. Look... let's go somewhere.

SAM:
Aren't you hungry?

LEAH:
Yeah... but let's go get something to eat somewhere else.

SAM:
Where? Like a funeral?

LEAH:
Maybe.

SAM:
Or a bar mitzivah. Come on... some people pay for things. They earn money... real life.

LEAH:
That's their problem, isn't it. It's not MY problem.

SAM (narration):
And like that, we're off... and she knows these things like the back of her hand. The plaza at the S.K. Tre and Imani Center of the Arts is on the far side of town off Brown Boot Circle and today they are having some sort of non-invitation members banquet for something called The Fat Lip Atlanta Jerk Club, and all these beer-bellied slobs and their families are gathered in this run-down center to make really crude jokes that embaress some of the attendees. We stand out like two sore thumbs on the same hand. I mean, it's gratuitous how Leah can slip it to the world like this. She discovered a long time ago that nobody was actually enforcing the honor system and that was her ticket. And just like always, things only get stranger from there.

(at an old podium with a feedbacking mike stands a red-faced, unshaven guy - mid to late forties - in a flannel shirt wearing a cowboy hat. His nickname is Acey. He's addressing a munching group of gathered families and friends. The friends are all similar in appearance and attitude to him. Some are drunk. All are laughing. The families are more reserved and most appear to be tolerating the entire event with disdain, wanting to be somewhere else. A few of the younger boys, starting to already look like their fathers, are getting into the event, however.)

ACEY:
...and I told him... I said, Slug... you sum bitch... you done it again!
(hacking laughs - the men in the crowd respond with the same - cackles... applause Acey wipes a tear from the corner of his eye) ...but hey... Slug was a good guy with the ladies, though. He told me one time, he said (Acey drops his voice as deep as he can) "ACEY... you know I think I dreamed up the perfect woman. No teeth, three feet tall, ears like handlebars and a flat head you can put a drink on!" (more laughter) That Slug. I tell you what... that sum bitch. Well...

Aesop steps up to the mike. He looks like the rest of them and talks with a thicker drawl. He's a few years older, perhaps mid-fifties.

AESOP:
Thanks Acey... you're right. I wish Slug was here tonight with us to enjoy this momentous occasion. I know we all miss old Slug... anyone else want to speak about Slug?

From the back, Leah's hand shoots up quickly like an anxious school child.
Aesop eyes her for a second, squinting. He leans forward to get a better look at her and the mike feedsback.

AESOP:
Come on up here, young lady... tell us about Slug... he'd like to hear it. Especially someone as pretty and young as you.

Cut to a closeup of Sam and Leah.

SAM (whispering sort of):
What do you get out of this? You're just going to hurt their feelings. This guy is dead.

LEAH (also whispering):
What would Old Slug think?

SAM (still whispering but raising his voice):
He'd probably think... he'd think...

LEAH (firm but whispering):
He'd think this was great. He'd be glad I remembered him.

SAM (raising voice):
Old Slug would NEVER remember you! He's worm food and -

Suddenly Sam realizes everyone is looking at them and maybe can hear what they are saying. Leah siezes the opportunity to hop out of her chair and gallop up the podium. Sam shakes his head and buries it in his hands, beating the top of his head with his fist. Leah takes the podium with a vigor that warms the crowd a bit. She smiles, waves and starts to speak, completely lacking any fear.

LEAH:
Slug was like a Grandfather to me and Sam. He'd come by and we knew it was him. He always had that smell about him. I don't remember what brand it was but you know. That... "Slug... Smell."

Someone in the crowd shouts "Elephant Butts!" and the crowd laughs slightly.

Aesop leans to the mic, although he's seated and his voice barely carries:

AESOP:
That's a brand of chewing tobacco... although he sometimes did smell like an elephant's ass!

Some crowd laughter.

LEAH:
Yeah... he used to spit that everywhere. Ashtrays... candy dishes... one time Sam, my boyfriend (she motions at Sam) he had this project he was working on for art class... it was a paper mache bowl and he had painted the face of Mother Theresa in it. She'd just died at the time and anyway... Slug had just come back from a date with my father and he drops this huge glob right in the bowl. There's the good sister Theresa with Old Slug's spit right in the middle of her face! Oh... Sam was so mad. He had to paint it all over again because it wasn't dry yet and it ended up looking like... (she pauses, clearly searching for the name of a country music singer) ...like Toby Keith.

Crowd laughter. Sam looks up, a complete look of shock on his face.

LEAH:
Yeah... another time, I walked in on Dad and him holding hands by the fireplace and I saw his fly was down and I said, "Hey Slug... looks like the front door is open," and pointed at his fly and he looks up at me with a grin and says (she deepens her voice), "That's for easy access, baby!"

Raucous crowd laughter. Cut to Sam looking frantic. He glances around. They seem oblivious to her hints.

LEAH:
And I don't know if anyone here ever mentioned the time Old Slug and my dad were making out at the campground wearing sun dresses they bought at the antique mall when this cop pulled up and asked what was going on (laughter starts to die down - Aesop seems confused - murmers in the crowd) and the cop asks them what they think they're doing and Slug looks at him and says, (deep voice) "We're having a luau. I was just waiting for the pig to arrive!" (she giggles) and then the cop pulls out a ticket and Slug says-

Aesop has gotten out of his seat during this last story and advanced to the mike. He cuts her off mid-sentence and the look of confused anger on his face is only held back by his obvious attempt to maintain order in the gathering and figure out what has happened later.

AESOP:
Heh... thanks for your words Lindsay.

LEAH:
Leah!

AESOP:
Leah... yes... well... we all remember Slug had run ins with the police a few times. One time I remember he was out fishing on the preserve at Pete Nice Research Hatchery and this security guard caught him with his pole cast out into the tank pulling all these huge trout out of the tank...

Leah walks back to Sam who by now is pacing around the table nervously. People next to him are eyeing him angrily. The two march out silently as the crowd behind them laughs at another thing Aesop has said. Once safely outside, Sam, seemingly hysterical, angry and happily amused bellows:

SAM:
I... can't FUCKING BELIEVE you were able to say those things. I mean, I get stage fright just LOOKING at an open microphone like that. You know, when I was in high school, I was in the marching band...

LEAH:
Third chair triangle?

SAM:
No... trombone.

LEAH:
That makes sense. You seem like somebody who would play trombone.

SAM:
What kind of profile is there on trombone players? I mean, how do you judge the characteristics of- (trailing off to regain his thoughts) look... all I'm saying is that I was in the marching band and we had to do the half time show... you know, choreographed marching and playing... the whole band moving around on the field manuevering to form different shapes and-

LEAH interupting):
I'm familiar with half-time shows, Sam.

SAM:
Yeah... well, I'm out there with, like 150 other people, right? And we're all wearing uniforms. I mean, we look the same. But for some reason, all those people, I'd get stage fright. I'd have to take Tums and I'd get so nervous and just shake and shake like a scared puppy. Once I even threw up I was so nervous right next to the refreshment stand... and this girl and her boyfriend were walking by just seconds later and I saw her slip in my puke and fall down. I felt TERRIBLE.

LEAH:
Because of the marching band?

SAM:
I don't know. I guess I'm not the kind of guy who likes to be in the spotlight.

LEAH:
Oh... you should try it some times. It's liberating.

SAM:
That was terrible. Those poor people and their beloved... whatever... I don't know... they will never remember him the same. Every time they think back, they'll wonder if that awkward glance, that seemingly innocent remark... if he really was playing for the other team... you know.

LEAH:
What a bunch of sexist ASSHOLES. They deserved it. I wish I could have told them about the time Slug accidently ran into his father's old army buddy on the other end of a glory hole. That one was REALLY funny.

SAM:
Come on. Let's get out of here before they start lighting the torches and sharpening pitchforks.

LEAH:
Your place?

SAM:
Not a good idea. Turns out Owen gets this Summer bonus...

LEAH:
Summer bonus?

SAM:
Yeah... they stopped giving them at Christmas. Not P.C. enough.

LEAH:
P.C.?

SAM:
Politically correct. You've never heard that before?

LEAH:
Like not Republican enough?

SAM:
No... tolerance. Christmas bonuses were intolerant of people who don't celebrate and- you've NEVER heard of Politically Correct?

LEAH:
Is it something on TV? I don't watch TV... remember?

SAM:
You dirty hippy.

LEAH (hugging him):
Well we should take a bath together.

Sam pauses for a moment as if the idea really turns him on but he wants to remain cool and composed.

SAM:
Well, anyway... Owen got this Summer Bonus since they don't give out Christmas bonuses any more...


LEAH:
And the grass really is greener on the other side?

SAM:
It's certainly greener in his bong. It'd be like a bath house run by Cheech and Chong. I have a random drug text coming up. I know it. Just one contact buzz and I'm history.

She hugs him again.

LEAH:
Well, the hotel awaits us.

SAM:
Hotel?

Cut to an elevator in a hotel. Leah is thumbing through an address book. Sam is confused. During the conversation they leave the elevator and wander the halls, searching for a room.

LEAH:
So... how did you know?

SAM:
How did I know what?

LEAH:
The drug test is coming if it's random.

SAM:
They've been doing the tests on everybody anyway and right before they test somebody, the boss takes you to lunch for free.

LEAH:
I don't get it.

SAM:
He takes you to this all-you-can-eat buffet and you stuff yourself silly.

LEAH:
And?

SAM:
And the more food you have in your stomach, the better you're going to absorb the drugs you're taking at the time and, in theory, the more accurate the test will be. That's what they told me at the management training session. Owen says that's all bullshit and those guys should read up on it. Anyway... all the management candidates are drug tested and there's like ten of us in the class and the word got spread around somehow. I'm low on the list, alphabetically, but Mr. Masters mentioned he wants to do lunch with me some time next week.

LEAH:
That's your boss' name? Mr. Masters?

SAM:
Well... Mike, actually, but you have to be on his good side to call him that. When he's not around, it's always (he goes into Igor voice) "Yes Master! At once Master!" He can be a real slave driver sometimes.

LEAH:
That's such a strange story. And you figured all that out?

SAM:
So you live here?

LEAH:
No... just staying here for a night or two.

SAM:
Did something happen to your apartment?

LEAH (wistfully):
You could say that, Sam. Oh... here it is! 667!

She pushes open the door. It is not locked and she doesn't even turn the handle. Sam doesn't notice. She flips on the light switch.

LEAH:
Here we are... time for a bath... then a nap.

SAM:
This is nice. Real nice.

It is a luxury suite with lots of space, a couch, full entertainment center and a large bed. He strolls into the main part of it and turns on a few lights along the way.

SAM:
So what's wrong with your apartment?

There is the sound of the bathtub running in the distance.

SAM:
Leah? I mean... what's wrong with your apartment that you're staying here?

He turns and goes back to the bathtub. She has undressed in there and the converation continues from a shot facing the wall concealing the bathroom. Neither of them can be seen.

SAM:
Woah... I mean... sorry... I didn't mean to...

For a second he stumbles backwards into the shot.

LEAH:
Are you taking a bath with me or not? Or are you scared of clean hippies too?

SAM:
I... this is awfully fast and...

LEAH:
It's just a bath, Sam... not a blowjob. Relax...

SAM:
I... I mean... I thought we could hang out and-

LEAH:
SAM. GET... IN... HERE... (she enunciates each word with authority)

Sam slowly walks back in.

SAM (begrudginly like he's giving in because he has no choice):
What the hell...

LEAH:
And get undressed... only a fool would take a bath with his clothes on... or a hippy.

SAM:
Yeah...

Cut to later on. Sam and Leah are sharing the large bathtub which is full of bubbles. They lie in opposite directions. Sam is in front, to the left. Leah is in back, to the right.

SAM:
Can I ask you a personal question?

LEAH:
You can always ask me a personal question. Those are the best kinds of questions. We spend too much of our lives wrapped up in inpersonal bullshit. What time is it? Where should we eat? Nobody wants to get to know anybody any more. I bet you most wives can tell you which tie their husband likes the most, but they can't tell you how he feels when a rainy day reminds him of his childhood.

SAM:
It's not that kind of question. It's kind of shallow and embaressing and... well... never mind.

LEAH:
Embaressing? Oh... come on Sam. (she pounds at the water with a fist playfully) Now you HAVE to ask it.

SAM:
No no no... (re-thinking) NO. Forget I brought it up.

LEAH:
I'm terrible at keeping secrets, Sam. Give me a secret and you might as well rent a billboard and advertise it to the world. That's why I want to know secrets. All the secrets. Because I'm terrible at keeping them. I guess that doesn't really explain why. But anyway... you've got something you want to know and you're afraid to ask and now you want to keep it a secret. TELL ME. I promise not to get mad, no matter how dark and forbidden it is. Those are the best.

SAM:
I... um... I'm just curious why you... you don't...

LEAH:
Out with it, padre!

SAM:
Well... shit... why don't you shave?

LEAH:
Are my legs THAT BAD?

SAM:
I didn't notice your... no! I mean... you don't shave... well... ANYTHING!

LEAH:
The pits?

SAM:
Anything...

LEAH:
The pubes?

SAM:
Uh...

LEAH:
You can say it, Sam. "Peeeeeeew-BIC Haaaaaaair..." (she over-enunciates)

Sam seems uncomfortable.

SAM:
Yeah... the... you know... pubic hair too.

LEAH:
What do you like? The landing strip? The oh-so stylish mo-hawk? Or is the bald thing more to your liking?

SAM:
You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I know it might be a source of embaressment for you.

He sits up in the tub.

LEAH:
I'm not embaressed at all. It seems like you're suffering a case of projected anxiety, padre.

SAM:
Well... maybe.

LEAH:
Sam?

SAM:
Yeah? (sheepishly)

LEAH:
SAM!?

SAM:
Yeah? (more attentive)

LEAH:
Why don't you shave your balls?

SAM:
We don't have to discuss this. I was stupid to have asked.

LEAH:
No... wait a minute. Why don't you shave your balls, Sam? Or your cockmuffin? Or your legs? Or your pits? Or your chest? Or your back for God's sake?

SAM:
I don't have a hairy back...

LEAH:
That's not the point. See... men are supposed to be hairy, right? The're supposed to be these hairy animals and women, well, we can have long hair on our heads, but the rest of it gots to go, right?

SAM:
Well, I mean... yeah... that's kind of the nature of things.

LEAH:
But that's a dirty, fucking lie, Sam. And I won't pull some femenist bullshit and say it's perpetrated by men to keep us down... you know... oppress us with their depilatories and waxes and razor burn... that's stupid. We do it to ourselves. I think we always have. We're just as guilty as our testosterone-induced counterparts.

SAM:
Okay. Fine. I understand...

LEAH:
But women have hair down there, Sam. We all do. Maybe they shave it off for your double you double dot coms or whatever but even those women, when they aren't working... just imagine Chewbacca and he's giving out piggy-back rides for all the ladies and between their legs is a little forest.

SAM:
Okay. I get it.

LEAH:
And see... the pits... the legs... some ladies even grow mustaches, Sam. They wax them off but they grow a damn STACHE. You live in a world of side-show-freak beareded ladies but thanks to the magic of Sally Hansen we make your lives more tolerable and our own so you don't go nuts every time you walk up to us and notice a kidnapper mustache on our upper lips. It hurts and is a major cause of embaressment but we do it for you and for ourselves.

SAM:
That sucks. Look... I like clean-shaven women I guess but I don't want to force anything.

LEAH:
Good because I like total and complete honesty and in this case, the honest truth is that women, myself included, grow some hair in some places men might not be used to seeing it. It's there because God put it there and I'd hate to piss the big guy off by yanking it out. You should try that sometime. Grab a handful and remove the turf. You'll get down and thank the stars you were born a man every time bikini season rolls around.

SAM:
Look... it's okay. It's not a big deal. I love you... all of you... even...

LEAH:
Even my furry beaver?

SAM:
Even your... furry... beaver... (he stutters, clearly uncomfortable with the words - he quickly changes the subject) Look... I'm going to be a prune if I stay in here much longer. And it was so relaxing I'm about to fall asleep.

He gets out, drying himself with a towel.

LEAH (tauntingly):
Well, me and my furry beaver are going to soak for a while longer.

SAM:
Okay... I'm going to lie down. What... what...

LEAH:
What would it take to shave it off?

SAM:
Um... no... I wanted to know what side you prefer. Of the bed, I mean.

LEAH:
The side you're not sleeping in.

She turns on the water again.

There is a knock at the door of the room. She almost doesn't hear it. She's dreary in half-sleep.
The knock is louder. Suddenly the door opens.

She lets out a whelp and sort of ducks her head under water for a second. A man, the hotel manager, storms into the room, glances around and sees the bathtub and her head popping up from under the water. He doesn't speak fluent English and his thick accent is fervent and angry.

MANAGER:
Who the hell are you? What are you doing here?

She hops out of the tub. The manager is overpowered by his surprise and anger and seems oblivious to her nudity. She starts toweling herself off.

MANAGER:
Who the fuck let you in room? The key is still downstairs at desk.

LEAH:
Fuck you! I'm not staying at your fucking hotel if you sick perverted bastards bust into the bathroom to sneak a peek at naked ladies!

She tosses the towel in his face and scoops up her clothes. Sam's voice comes, sleepily from the other side of the suite.

SAM:
Leah? What's going on? Is everything okay?

The manager follows her into the suite. Sam is lying on the bed clothed only in boxer shorts. He's sitting up, clearly confused. As the scene unfolds, Leah is rapidly getting dressed.

MANAGER:
You two get out now! I call police! They come take you to jail! You no stay in my hotel not pay!

SAM:
What?

The manager grabs the side of the bed and attempts to lift it up but it won't budge.

MANAGER:

We call the cops! You go to jail! You steal my room!

LEAH:
Get dressed Sam. We're leaving.

She tosses him his clothes. He begins to put them on.

SAM:
Would someone tell me what this is about?

MANAGER:
You no leave! You stay with police! Then leave! You steal room, you fucks, you.

LEAH:
Come on, Sam!

By now she is dressed and is throwing pillows from the couch, paper advertisements on the nightstand, notepads, hotel pens, whatever she can at the manager. He blocks them with his arms but he does not back down.

MANAGER:
You no go anywhere! You stay right here! The police come arrest you motherfuckers, you both!

They both suddenly make a mad dash out the door and down the hall. The manager is caught off guard by their sudden flight. They run to the elevators and Leah frantically pushes the button over and over like mad.

SAM:
You want to tell me what the hell is going on?

LEAH:
Push the other buttons! (she motions to the other elevator)

SAM:
There's only one button and you pushed it!

The elevator door opens with that tell-tale DING! sound and they both turn their heads to see the Manager coming around the corner. She grabs Sam, throws him inside and tumbles inside herself pushing the button for floor number two and then one.

LEAH:
SHIT! I hit the wrong floor number!

SAM:
Were you... are you... squatting... in a hotel?

LEAH:
Am I what?

SAM:
You know... staying in a room and not paying for it. Damn... is that... what... a felony?

LEAH:
What are you talking about? It's not even a crime!

SAM:
He seemed pretty certain it was.

The door opens for floor number two. An old couple is waiting and start to step to the elevator. They both have a large number of suitcases. She quickly pushes the "Close Door" button.

LEAH (in her best airline stewardess voice):
Sorry! This car is full! Try the next one!

They look confused as the doors close.

SAM:
So it's true? We stole that hotel room.

LEAH:
You can't steal a hotel room, Sam. They seem to be firmly wedged into buildings. It would be like stealing the Eifle Tower or the Grand Canyon.

SAM:
You know what I mean. We didn't have permission to...

The elevator doors open.

LEAH:
Nobody should ever have permission, Sam. There's a big world out there and all you have to do is snatch it up and take it. It's a victimless crime anyway. No real harm done. Hunter S. Thompson didn't ask permission. Neither will I. And he turned hotel rooms into smoldering trash heaps.

They are running down the hall. As they make it through a door, the sound of an elevator door opening up can be heard and suddenly the Manager is behind them, still chasing. They make their way outside and to her car. The manager is chasing still, waving a fist and cursing. He runs to his car which is not terribly far away. This is Leah's car so she is driving. She starts it up and drives off. A chase ensues. It is sunset and there aren't many cars on the road but the two weave and bob through the streets. Her car is obviously faster and both are not skilled race drivers so the chase isn't at terrifically high speeds. She takes a turn into a neighborhood and he follows but she makes a turn and loses him around a bend. She continues driving and the emerges from the neighborhood still driving very fast and right through a stop sign (although there are no cars coming). A police car is parked, idling at a driveway and an officer is talking to a woman in the driveway when he sees her car. He suddenly turns and runs to his car, hops in and pulls up behind her.

SAM:
Oh shit... we're fucked.

LEAH:
That's another thing Hunter S. Thompson did. He wouldn't just pull over for cops. You had to make them really want it. Give them a little chase.

SAM:
WHAT? Oh fuck! You've got to be kidding me!

They pull off again, not at a terrible speed but enough of a chase to make it interesting. At long last they come to a long, narrow two-lane road. She pulls over, lets the car idle and the police car stops behind her. The cop gets out and begins talking on his radio. He pulls out a pad and starts scribbling. He makes his way to the window. She rolls it down.

LEAH:
Hi. How are you?

OFFICER:
Ma'am... may I see your license and registration?

She suddenly lurches the car forward about a foot. This takes the officer by surprise but he regains composure.

LEAH: Sorry... my foot slipped on the break. You know...

She lurches forward again. This time, several feet. He jogs up to her and seems a bit out of breath.

OFFICER: Ma'am... if you don't stop that I'm afraid I'm going to have to give you an additional citation for-

She lurches forward again. This time a few more feet. Again the policeman catches up to her.

LEAH: I'm so sorry, sir. I don't mean to. I'm nervous when I get around policemen. My foot slipped on the break. I swear I'm not doing it on purpose.

He looks in the car, first at her, then at Sam. Sam motions "I don't know," with his mouth and looks back, confused.

OFFICER: Well, ma'am... put your car in park and turn off the engine so we can-

Suddenly Leah zips off. The policeman freezes for a second, looks at them and looks back at his car which is now a considerable distance away. He takes off running for it but by that time they are gone. They never see him again.

SAM:
What the fuck. I can't believe you did that!?

LEAH:
I know! Ain't it cool!

SAM:
He'll arrest us for sure! Didn't he get your license?

LEAH:
He would have... if I had one.

SAM:
You don't have a driver's license?

LEAH:
You can't be a pharm. tech without a valid form of picture I.D., Sam.

SAM:
No! I mean your license plate! He wrote it down!

LEAH:
Come on, Sam. You know me better then that. I never got one. I just change the masking tape on the back of the dealer plate once a month. Nobody cares. Really... you should think about how much money you throw away on your license plate. And besides... having one keeps you from being able to do cool shit like scare cops.

SAM:
Stop the car.

LEAH:
Sam. I think we should take you home. It's been a long day.

SAM:
Stop the car! Stop the car! I want out!

She pulls over. He hops out. He starts walking and she drives slowly next to him with her window down.

LEAH:
Come on... it must be twenty miles to your house. Let me take you home.

SAM:
I can get a fucking cab.

LEAH:
Of course you can. Or you can ride with me. Come on... calm down. It's all over now.

SAM:
You know what?

He turns and crosses his arms on the open window leaning forward to the car.

SAM:
You... you're like an alien. You know that? You just beamed down to our helpless little planet one day and decided things were too simple for us silly humans so you showed up and rammed a big monkey wrench in all the works!

LEAH:
Is this about the beaver thing again because-

SAM:
You steal hotel rooms! You crash wakes! You don't pay your taxes!

LEAH:
I pay my taxes every year, Sam. I don't pay my excise taxes. Be precise.

SAM:
What is life to you? A dream!?

He steps away from the car and starts walking again. She starts following again.

LEAH (singing):
Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream... Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily...

SAM:
That's not funny.

LEAH:
No. It's not, Sam. But look... we've both been there. I can't imagine how it felt when you were looking at those pills and thinking about ending your life but I remember distinctly how I felt when I slit my wrists! And I don't ever want to feel that way again! I want to care about what matters! I want to enjoy what little time we have left! And I'm starting to enjoy it with you! Let's make the MOST of this short excuse for a couple years we call our lives! Carpe diem! Sieze the day! Live it up! Make it all matter! All that shit! Have a cup of coffee!

SAM:
Have a cup of... (slowly and with a bit of sarcasm) look! I just don't know. I mean. I like you, Leah. I really like you. But you're so untamable. You make me feel weak. You make me feel stupid.

LEAH:
Oh... honey.

SAM:
Look... Leah... I really like you.

LEAH:
You said that.

SAM:
I meant it. But... I don't know. You intimidate me.

LEAH:
Maybe we need each other. You could teach me some of that balance and calmness you're so good at. I could teach you how to print bar codes at Kinko's so you can buy your bread loaves at half price.

SAM:
You know... I just don't get it.

LEAH:
What?

SAM:
You. And why I love you. I shouldn't love someone like you.

LEAH:
Well there's tons of things people shouldn't do and you seem to think I do most of them. Why not break this one rule and be with me for a while longer?

SAM:
I... I don't know... I really like you, Leah.

LEAH:
And I need to teach you some new ways to verbally show affection for one's better half you repetitive bastard. Get in my car. I'll take you home.

Sam stops. Seems to think about it for a moment, then gets in the car and they drive off.

Sam (narration):
I'd hate to say I gave in but I did. I gave in. Like that. Leah has this magical talent for getting people to do things. They respond to her in a way I just can't connect with people. She's wired different then the rest of the human race. She knows it and uses it to its full potential. It's part of her, charm, really, and you can't fault the girl for being charming. You can't even fault her for abusing the system. It abuses people like me every day, and we've bought into it.