Bloodless Episode 25

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic

Oliver feels a sense of post-college purposelessness and is perturbed that he keeps seeing his deceased brother in the far distance. Kelly and Oliver feud over whether switching her major back to psychology was the right decision. Sheffield works on post-production for his new film, "Ice Cream Man". Tricia struggles with Sheffield's crippling insecurities and her own future with him. Roy starts an internship at Edgar Huntsman's law office and falls for a fellow intern. Stephanie tries to fit in now that she's at Northwestern.







“Gone before sunrise. Never sleep on the game, we’re all shaking the dice. Now, if you roll ‘em hard enough, could change your life. I’m a roll on my own, I came to fight, I came to fight…you know better. You know, you know, it’s your teeth in my neck. Your teeth in my neck!”

  • Kali Uchis


(We open on Oliver in his bathroom, wearing a purple graduation gown and mortarboard. He adjusts his mortarboard and straightens out his gown. We flip around to see he’s looking in the mirror, which of course he does not appear in. “Your Teeth in My Neck” by Kali Uchis comes in. We cut to Stephanie sitting on a couch, along with a dozen or so frat boys and girls seated around a coffee table at a bustling frat party. She has a little solo cup in her hand and is heavily made up. A frat boy to Stephanie’s right lights a bowl and takes a hit. He then hands it to a hot blonde to Stephanie’s left, skipping Steph entirely, despite Stephanie’s futile attempt to grab the pipe. Cut to Tricia doing her burlesque routine at Davie’s, in front of an audience of ravenous vampires. She uses a purple ribbon and rubs it across her back, as she pushes her breasts together and lowers herself to the floor. One of the vampires plants his palm on her upper leg- and Tricia immediately kicks him in the face and screams for Sheffield to come over. Sheffield immediately gives up making a drink, and rushes over there. Vampires clear the way, and Sheffield picks up the offending bloodsucker, yells at him, and points him to the door. Two vampire bouncers drag him out. Tricia drops the purple ribbon, takes out a pack of cigarettes, sets one loose and walks off stage to a chorus of boos. We cut to Roy, dressed in a tie and slacks in some corporate office, picking up a cup of coffee from a Keurig, while carrying a huge stack of papers in his other hand. He uses his back to push open the door to the break room and walks into an open-concept law office. A young woman with brown hair and pronounced eyebrows smiles and appears to offer to take the papers off his hands. Roy smiles and carefully hands off the stack. The young woman smiles and squeezes Roy on the shoulder, making him beam. Roy then walks to a big brown door with a plaque reading “EDGAR J. HUNTSMAN, JR, ESQ”. Roy knocks upon his door, and then he enters, and hands Edgar his coffee. Cut to Charlie in a meeting with the nurse’s union at a spare boardroom in the hospital. The Nurse’s union reps are on their feet, yelling at him and pointing their fingers, as he rubs his eyes in absolute boredom. Cut to Sheffield sitting in a dark computer room, his face illuminated only by the glow of the computer screen. Bags hang under his eyes, and he’s stubbing out in a cigarette into an overflowing ashtray, as he edits a film on Final Cut Pro. We see the footage is of an ice cream truck driving across an interstate in the middle of nowhere. Tricia peeks in, but Sheffield turns around and gestures at her to close the door. Tricia sighs and shuts the door. Outside the computer room, Tricia rubs her eyes and walks away. Cut to Kelly at a table in a white room, where she’s interviewing a skinny female patient with stringy hair and exhausted eyes, wearing a hospital gown. Kelly is drawing a detailed sketch of a giant, wide-open eye while this patient talks, and chews her nails to quick. The patient grows impatient and slams the table, and Kelly snaps back to attention. Kelly rips the drawing out of her journal, balls it up, and tosses it aside to assuage the patient’s anger. The patient calms down and Kelly prepares to take notes. The song fades out)


KELLY: …So, when did the abuse start?


(The patient scratches her neck and closes her eyes)


ANDREA: …I guess it was…early on. Earlier than I can remember. (Kelly nods) One of my first memories was…my father throwing a light cigarette at my eyes. It burned me, and he kept saying, “you shoulda got outta the way, you shoulda got outta the way”, and all this crap.


KELLY: …Did you agree with him?


ANDREA: …At first, but then later, he would cry and cry and cry, get down on his knees, apologizing, holding me tight, and on and on, until it started all over again.


KELLY: …Was this when he was sober, or using?


ANDREA: …Honestly, I preferred him when he was using. He was less of a prick then.


KELLY: …So when did you start using, Andrea?


(Andrea scoffs)


ANDREA: When I was 26. Just a few months before I stuck up that 7-11.




ANDREA: Yeah. Didn’t take long.


(Kelly smirks)


KELLY: That’s when you, went away?


ANDREA: Six years in the pen, that’s right. Like that helped much. Did more drugs inside than I ever did out, they were just cheaper and more dangerous. Spent a lot of time in the hole after getting into fights with the Nazis.


KELLY: You mean the skinhead gangs?


ANDREA: No, the prison guards.


(Kelly chuckles)


KELLY: …But you got out in- (Kelly checks her notes) ’13?


ANDREA: Yeah. Been in counseling ever since.


KELLY: Have your violent tendencies erupted since?


(Andrea scoffs)


ANDREA: Like you don’t know.


KELLY: I’ve seen a couple of arrests for assault, but nothing major.


ANDREA: Yeah, I’m not slittin’ people’s throats or anything-

(Kelly winces, and we cut to a split-second flashback of Kelly slitting Shuttle’s throat from her point-of-view. Cut back. Kelly blinks rapidly. Andrea notices)


ANDREA: …You alright?


(Kelly clears her throat)


KELLY: Yeah, I’m good.


(Andrea nods)


ANDREA: …Listen, I’m dying for a cigarette, you got one?


(Kelly smiles, fishes her pack out of her pocket and offers it to Andrea. Cut to Oliver and Kelly’s new apartment. It’s a humble one-bedroom on the second floor of an apartment building in downtown Evanston. Kelly walks in locks the door and walks lethargically to the couch, which she then collapses onto)


KELLY: (Muffled) …Oliver, are you there?


(Oliver walks in, wearing his graduation outfit. Kelly turns her head and laughs)


OLIVER: Don’t laugh at me!


KELLY: I’m sorry, it’s just- why?


(Kelly sits up)


OLIVER: I’m reveling in it, okay? I’ve been in college for almost seven fuckin’ years.


(Oliver walks over and sits next to Kelly)


KELLY: So, you’re gonna wear that all night like you’re a kid who just found his dad’s robe?


OLIVER: I would never wear my dad’s robe, he never washes it.


(Kelly takes his mortarboard and wears it)


KELLY: Is that what we’re gonna do? Grad roleplay?


(Oliver smirks and snatches the mortarboard from Kelly)


OLIVER: We can if you want.


KELLY: Are you gonna sodomize me with a rolled-up diploma?




(Oliver gets up, as Kelly laughs hysterically)


KELLY: Don’t be such a prude!


OLIVER: You take shit too far! (Oliver laughs and sits the breakfast table. He rubs his eyes) How was the, uh…the fuck is it called?


KELLY: Practicum.


OLIVER: Yeah, how was that?


KELLY: Enlightening, as always. I talked to this woman who was abused by her drug addict parents and went on to do an armed robbery.


OLIVER: Did you tell your parents are crackheads, too?


(Kelly smirks)


KELLY: We don’t really use that term. And no.


OLIVER: Aren’t you supposed to develop a rapport?


KELLY: We’re not supposed to talk about ourselves too much.


OLIVER: Thank God I’m not doing this, then.


KELLY: It’s honestly really draining, having to listen to all these people.


OLIVER: Then why are you doing it?


KELLY: So, I can help people.


OLIVER: No, I mean, why did you go back to psych? You were happier doing an art major. You have that eye painting in the closet you still haven’t finished.


KELLY: Because I can actually make a living doing this.


OLIVER: You realize I’m receiving an art degree tomorrow, right?


KELLY: Yes, and I will be more than happy to be your sugar momma as you pursue that.


OLIVER: Oh, thanks, that makes me feel great.


KELLY: I will be the Engels to your Marx, financing you with my barrels of cash so you can do your work.


(Oliver scoffs and stands up)


OLIVER: You’re the one who comes from a poor family!


KELLY: YES! Which is why I don’t want to be poor! Your family is petty bourgeois, which is why you can afford to be poor!


OLIVER: Listen, you read Das Kapital, I get it.




(Oliver sighs, and sits down)


OLIVER: …Can we just fuck and go to bed?


KELLY: …You have to take that off, first.


OLIVER: Okay, fine.


(Oliver throws off the mortarboard, and unzips the gown and throws it off, revealing he’s wearing nothing underneath. Kelly bursts into laughter, as Oliver runs over, picks her up, and starts making out with her, undoing her pants and inserting himself inside her. Cut to Oliver sitting in an auditorium, wearing a mask along with his graduation gown and mortarboard, surrounded by a sea of other students wearing the same thing. He’s sitting before a graduation stage, with numerous faculty seated- Professor Bosworth, Professor Dewan, Professor Winstead, and Professor Kinnock- among others. Northwestern President Morton Schapiro is standing by to give handshakes, and Professor Bosworth is standing ready to give diplomas, while Professor Kudrow is at the podium, reading names)


PROFESSOR KUDROW: Jeffrey Sussman. (Applause. Jeffrey Sussman accepts his diploma from Bosworth, and then goes to shake Schapiro’s hand)  Patricia Suzix. (Applause. Patricia Suzix does the same) Now, we call up the “S” group.


(Oliver and those by him form an orderly line and make their way toward the stage. Professor Kudrow clears her throat)


PROFESSOR KUDROW: Donovan Sabella. Louise Sacchetti. (We focus on Oliver, moving along in the line- with the noise of the ceremony becoming muffled. We can’t see it, because of the mask, but we notice the hint of a smile in his crow’s feet. Oliver steps onto the ramp leading to the stage and waits patiently as he scans the crowd for his family. He reaches the stage and watches several people before him get their diplomas. He’s scanning and he finds his parents- Jeff and Kelly Shine, smiling and looking proud, while sitting next to his sister Stephanie and his girlfriend Kelly, his former roommate Roy and his friend Sheffield and Sheffield’s girlfriend Tricia. He smiles) Oliver Shine.


(Oliver walks forward and is handed his diploma by Professor Bosworth)


PROFESSOR BOSWORTH: Congratulations, kid.


(Oliver shakes Bosworth’s hand)


OLIVER: Thanks, Bos.


(Oliver smiles and looks into the crowd again, to see his family and friends on their feet, cheering. But as he steps forward toward President Schapiro- he scans the crowd again and sees ever so briefly, the image his late brother Barrett- standing in an empty hallway between the stands. He furrows his brow and looks back at Barrett and stops in his tracks. He’s shocked. Barrett smiles and walks away. Oliver’s eyes are wide)


PRESIDENT SCHAPIRO: Son? (Oliver snaps out of it and looks toward President Schapiro. Schapiro beckons him forward) Can’t soak up all the glory, kiddo.


(Oliver smirks and walks forward to shake Schapiro’s hand. Though he still seems distracted)


OLIVER: Thanks.


PRESIDENT SCHAPIRO: Congratulations- fuck, your hand’s ice cold!


OLIVER: See ya, Morton.


(Oliver pats Schapiro on the shoulder, and walks off stage, frantically searching the audience for Barrett, to no avail. Cut to Oliver and his friends and family in a stairwell of the auditorium. Kelly Shine has her iPhone in hand)


MRS. SHINE: Oliver- let’s take pictures outside, with everyone else!




(Kelly Calvert clears her throat)


KELLY: I mean, no, it’s too hot outside, let’s do it here.


MRS. SHINE: It’s nice outside-


STEPHANIE: MOM! (Nervously laughing) Drop it! Let’s just do it here, I’m allergic to pollen, and there’s a lot of pollen outside.


JEFF: Oliver, why don’t you ever wanna go outside?


OLIVER: Let’s just say I burn real easy. Can we talk these goddamn pictures already?


(Jeff sighs and throws up his hands. Kelly Shine hands Tricia the iPhone)


KELLY: Sweetheart, you mind taking the pictures for us?


TRICIA: As long as you cut that “sweetheart” shit out immediately.


(Sheffield laughs nervously and takes the camera)


SHEFFIELD: HA! Good one, Trish. I can do it, Mrs. Shine.


MRS. SHINE: Why are all of you so weird?


ROY: I wish I had an answer for you.


(Oliver, Stephanie and Jeff line up for the picture)


OLIVER: Come on, mom, get in here.


(Kelly Shine walks over and puts her arm around Oliver. Sheffield takes several pictures. Kelly leans over to Roy)


KELLY: (Whispering) Thank God he appears in photographs.


ROY: (Whispering) They can’t be in the dark forever.


KELLY: (Whispering) Yes. They. Can.


(Kelly gives Roy a look. Roy rolls his eyes. Cut to Oliver’s apartment. “Ooh La La” by Run The Jewels is blasting over a speaker while Oliver, Roy, Sheffield, Tricia, Kelly, and others mix and mingle among one another. A knock comes at the door, and Oliver goes to open it. It’s now night, of course. Stephanie is standing there)




(Stephanie goes in for a hug, but Oliver stops her)


OLIVER: Vaccine card?


(Stephanie scoffs)


STEPHANIE: You know I’m vaccinated.


OLIVER: Cough it up, kid.


(Stephanie sighs)


STEPHANIE: I didn’t bring it, but I sent you a photo of me with the band-aid on my arm!


(Oliver turns to Kelly)


OLIVER: How much does a box of band-aids cost, Kelly?


KELLY: Just let her in!


(Oliver turns to Stephanie)


OLIVER: I don’t like the precedent this sets, but fine, I’ll make an exception. Come here. (Stephanie hugs Oliver) Liar.


(Stephanie relinquishes the hug and pushes Oliver playfully)




OLIVER: SO defensive! (Cut to Oliver, Kelly, Sheffield, Roy and Stephanie in the kitchen. Oliver pours some vodka shots and distributes them, including to Stephanie, who smiles appreciatively. Oliver lifts a shot and everyone else follows suit) To my educational achievements, such as they are, and to the future, such as it is.


KELLY: It’s not, by the way.


OLIVER: Cheers.




(Everyone takes their shots. Stephanie huffs)




SHEFFIELD: We don’t have to hold your hair back yet, do we?


STEPHANIE: Fuck off.


(Sheffield laughs)


KELLY: Lay off Steph, she’s fine.


OLIVER: Yeah, she can hold her liquor. Not quite as much as I can, but I could drink this bottle and be merely tipsy, so.


(Roy scoffs)


ROY: So could I.


(Oliver smirks)


OLIVER: Right.


SHEFFIELD: So where to now, bud? You’re out of college, what’s next?


OLIVER: I don’t know, I have an art degree. I could clean toilets at a museum, or teach art.


SHEFFIELD: At Northwestern?


(Oliver shakes his head “no”)


OLIVER: Probably to old folks at a nursing home.


KELLY: That’d be really noble work-


OLIVER: But it’s LAME.


(Kelly rolls her eyes)


ROY: But come on, what are you really gonna do?


SHEFFIELD: Put all limitations aside, assume the best case.


OLIVER: I’ll become as famous as Van Gogh and end up shooting myself in the chest in a hay field.


SHEFFIELD: Oh, for fuck’s sake.


KELLY: Can you just answer the question?


OLIVER: I DON’T KNOW! I’ll probably work at Davie’s for the next few decades, and then once climate change largely snuffs out humanity, I’ll feed on who’s left. How does that sound?


STEPHANIE: Thanks, I feel great about my future.


OLIVER: Don’t worry, Steph, you’ll make a great warlord in the afterscape.


SHEFFIELD: No, she’s not big enough.


OLIVER: You’re right, I was just offering false hope.




ROY: Oliver, are you really not gonna give a straight answer?


OLIVER: I don’t know what I’m gonna do, guys, honestly, nobody knows shit.


KELLY: That’s a “no”.




KELLY: I’m gonna step outside, you guys.


OLIVER: I’ll come with you.


(Kelly looks over at Oliver as she steps away)


KELLY: You’re not gonna shame me into not smoking.


OLIVER: You do you, boo.


ROY: Oof. I hated that.


SHEFFIELD: I was gonna join you guys, but I’m gonna hang back because of that shit you just said.


OLIVER: Haters gonna hate, I don’t mind. (Oliver grabs Kelly by the face and kisses her on the lips and smiles back at them) This is my BAE.


KELLY: ‘Kay, I’m on the verge of kicking you of your own party.


(Kelly walks toward the front door, and Oliver follows her while walking backwards and outstretching his hands)


OLIVER: (Melodramatically) LOVE IS LOVE IS LOVE IS LOVE- (Cut to Kelly and Oliver sitting on the outside windowsill of their apartment. Kelly is lighting a cigarette for herself. Oliver leans against the railing overlooking the apartment’s parking lot. Kelly exhales smoke and pockets the lighter) …You should probably try quitting again.


(Kelly sighs and closes her eyes)


KELLY: See, this is why I don’t like smoking around you.


OLIVER: I’m just saying.


KELLY: You’ve had numerous opportunities to make me immortal and you’ve passed them up, so, this is partially on you.


(Oliver chuckles and looks into the distance. His eyes go wide as he sees what appears to be Barrett sitting in a sedan parked on the street)


OLIVER: What the fuck-


(Oliver walks forward to get a better look, but the car speeds off)


KELLY: What is it?


(Oliver’s eyes follow the car as it speeds off)


OLIVER: …Nothing, I just… (Oliver turns to Kelly) this is gonna sound crazy.


KELLY: I’m a witch dating a vampire, I think that ship has sailed.


OLIVER: Why’d you use a lighter to light your cigarette, can’t you light it with magic?


KELLY: Why? Just to show off?


(Oliver shakes his head)


OLIVER: Anyway, it started at graduation this morning, I thought I saw…my brother in the crowd.


(Kelly nods)


KELLY: Okay, well, maybe you miss him. Sometimes people see their dead loved ones in the faces of everyday people, it’s a pretty common, unconscious manifestation of grief.


(Oliver rolls his eyes)


OLIVER: Save it for the practicum.


KELLY: Oliver, I don’t like it when you do that.


OLIVER: I don’t like it when you psycho-analyze me.


KELLY: I’m trying to help!


OLIVER: Barrett’s been dead for almost fourteen years, and I haven’t even thought about him as much lately, I’m not in the throes of grief.


KELLY: Maybe that’s why you’re seeing him, you’re suppressing your grief. (Oliver sighs) Stop that! What I’m saying is valid! I know you HATE what I’m doing with my life, but I hate that you just assume I’m SHOWING OFF or something, I’m trying to help you!


OLIVER: I just think you should’ve stuck with what you were truly passionate about.


KELLY: How the fuck would YOU know?! I can be passionate about more than one thing- goddamn! Stop presuming to know what I really want! JESUS!


(Kelly throws the cigarette at Oliver’s feet, and marches back inside, slamming the door behind her. Oliver ruefully rubs his eyes and leans on the balcony. Cut to Kelly marching through the party, as rubber-neckers look after her. She walks into her room and shuts the door behind her. She flips on the lights and checks her phone. She sees she missed three calls from Kelly Shine. She squints and calls her back. Cut to Kelly Shine sleeping next to Jeff Shine in bed. Her phone vibrates on the nightstand loudly. Kelly is startled awake- and Jeff springs up)


JEFF: Huh?! What is it?! Is there a burglar?!


MRS. SHINE: No, Jeff, it’s my phone.


JEFF: Who’s calling you- IS IT A BURGLAR?!


MRS. SHINE: Just go back to bed.


(Mrs. Shine picks up the phone as Jeff lies his head back down. Cut to Kelly Calvert on the phone. Intercut between the two)


KELLY: Hello?


MRS. SHINE: Kelly- hello?


KELLY: Oh, jeez, I didn’t wake you- did I? I just saw you called-


MRS. SHINE: You did, but it’s fine.


KELLY: I can call later-


MRS. SHINE: Just shut up and let me talk. (Kelly tenses up) …Are you gonna marry my son?


(Kelly furrows her brow)


KELLY: Oh- I-I don’t really think, I’m twenty-three, I’m not thinking about that right now, Mrs. Shine.


MRS. SHINE: I had married Jeff and begat my firstborn by the time I was twenty-three, Kelly.


KELLY: Yes, well…I think that was more common, you know, back in the days when they said stuff like “begat”.


MRS. SHINE: …I just want to know that Oliver’s in good hands. He’s obviously…troubled.


KELLY: I mean, Oliver can take care of himself.


MRS. SHINE: Can he? (Kelly bites her tongue as a silence hangs) …I don’t know what’s going on, but I know something’s going on. If it’s drugs or, meth, or heroin-


KELLY: It’s not-


MRS. SHINE: Or drugs of some kind-


KELLY: You’ve only said “drugs” so far.


MRS. SHINE: Whatever it is, I want to know that there’s someone who can be there for him. Because he won’t let us in.


(Kelly nods solemnly)


KELLY: I assure you, Mrs. Shine, I can be there for him. He’ll be safe on my watch.


(Mrs. Shine nods)


MRS. SHINE: Thank you, Kelly. Goodnight.


KELLY: Goodnight, Mrs. Shine.


(Kelly hangs up and throws her phone on the bed. She sits on the bed and takes a deep breath. Cut to Oliver sitting on the couch, next to Roy and Stephanie. Oliver takes a pull off a bottle of whiskey)


STEPHANIE: That’s your second bottle, Oliver.


OLIVER: This is like a beer for me, Steph.


ROY: Where’s Kelly? I heard you guys arguing out there-


(Oliver stands up)




(Cheers go up in the room as Oliver pulls  up a table and sets up red solo cups. Roy sighs and rests his head on his hand. Then he shrugs and gets up)


ROY: Fuck it, let’s go.


(Oliver pats Roy on the back as he positions himself on the other side of the table)


OLIVER: Hell yeah, brother.


(Cut to Kelly sitting in her room with the window open, as she smokes a cigarette and blows the smoke out the window. We can hear throngs of people cavorting outside as Oliver sees them out)


OLIVER: (Slurred) Thanks for coming everyone- get home safe. Tip that Uber driver well and put newspaper down in the backseat for Christ’s sake. Love ya, Steph, see ya later.


(Kelly hears Oliver close the door and come down the hall, so she stubs out her cigarette, closes the window and sprays a bottle of Febreeze as he comes in. Oliver closes the door and sniffs)


OLIVER: Ah, the wonderful mesh of tobacco smoke and air freshener, they should make a scented candle out of it, because I smell it constantly.


(Oliver sits on the bed)


KELLY: How about a scented candle combining air freshener and your farts, I smell that all the time, too.


OLIVER: Are you still upset?


KELLY: You have no respect for what I do, why would I be mad? I have no respect for myself, anyway.


OLIVER: I want you to do what you wanna do. I just want to make sure that this is what you wanna do.


(Kelly looks over at Oliver)


KELLY: …I don’t want to fight.


OLIVER: Then let’s not.


(Kelly walks over and sits on the bed next to Oliver and holds him)


KELLY: …I think my self-esteem has fallen far enough that I want to fuck you now.


(Oliver smiles)


OLIVER: Be still my beating heart.


(Kelly laughs and Oliver smothers her lips with kisses. They fall out of frame and start removing one another’s clothes. Cut to later that night. Oliver and Kelly are nude, sleeping next to one another in the dark. Kelly’s hand is on Oliver’s chest as Oliver sleeps on his back. The camera pans up and reveals Barrett is at Oliver’s window, looking through it with a concerned look upon his face. Oliver turns onto his side, as Kelly’s hand slips away, and Oliver’s eyes creak open. He looks up at the window and sees Barrett staring at him. His eyes remain fixed upon Barrett, as he slinks away from the window. Oliver looks confused, but his eyes close moments later. Cut to Stephanie sitting in the back of a large lecture hall. She’s wearing a purple Northwestern mask and taking notes on a yellow notepad as the Professor- a 40-year-old brunette woman wearing glasses and a mask, lectures. The white board behind her reads “WORLD HISTORY 1550-Present” and “6-21-21” and “PROFESSOR HILARY FRANCIS”)


PROFESSOR FRANCIS: I hope you all read the syllabus that was emailed to you. WELL ahead of time.


(Cut to a group of three blonde girls sitting in the back, dressed in tank-tops and sweats with updos and Starbucks drinks at their sides. The middle one scoffs)


BLONDE GIRL: Oh, sure thing.


(Her friends laugh, and the Professor glares at them. Stephanie smirks in response)


PROFESSOR FRANCIS: Welcome to class, ladies. Next time I’d appreciate it if you didn’t speak while I was speaking. Just to remind everyone- summer semester classes are INCREDIBLY compact. You do not have time to slack off on anything, not even reading the syllabus. Our first test is literally first thing next week. Oh, and I’d remind you to please put your masks on. Have consideration for others.


BLONDE GIRL: Our breath doesn’t smell like onions like yours, so we don’t need it.


(The girls laugh some more. Stephanie laughs a little too. Professor Francis rolls her eyes)


PROFESSOR FRANCIS: I’m just gonna move on from that insanity, and we’re going to talk about 16th century Europe. (Professor Francis writes “16th Century Europe” on the board) I’ll ask, just based on the accumulated knowledge of the class, what is 16th century Europe known for?


(Stephanie scoffs)


STEPHANIE: Being boring as fuck.


(Everyone glares at Stephanie, including the group of basic girls. Stephanie turns red and turns her eyes down to the notepad to take notes as if she didn’t say anything)


PROFESSOR FRANCIS: The answer is the rise of Western Civilization and The Renaissance. Jesus, why do I even ask you dipshits, just write down what I say from now on.


(Cut to the basic girls- Emily, Madison and Hannah talking outside of the lecture hall after class. Stephanie is watching from afar)


HANNAH: That Professor was such a bitch!

EMILY: I hate those bitches who act like they know shit- like, you don’t even KNOW me!


HANNAH: Exactly!


EMILY: You don’t know what it’s like to grow up in suburban Virginia while your dad busts his ass the State Department- you have no idea!


HANNAH: She was SO conceited.


(Stephanie walks up to them nervously)


STEPHANIE: You guys were hilarious in there.


(They all glare at her)


MADISON: …Thanks…


STEPHANIE: I don’t mean to interrupt, but I just- (Stephanie pulls of her mask) I liked what you said.


EMILY: Listen, no offense, but like, we don’t know you. I only talk to people I know.


(Some muscular sophomore with black hair walks over)


SOPHOMORE: Hey, I’m Evan, I have thirty minutes until business calculus, you wanna go see what my car looks like? It has five cupholders.


EMILY: Oh my God, yes!


(Evan and Emily walk away together)


STEPHANIE: Sorry, I’m new here and I’m still trying to meet people.


MADISON: Word of advice…don’t.


(Madison and Hannah walk away together, leaving Stephanie humiliated)


HANNAH: You going to that Delta Zeta party Friday night?


MADISON: The one at 717 University Place? Like I’d miss it!


(Stephanie eyes them curiously as they leave the building, and she quickly takes out her notepad and writes down “717 University Place”. Cut to Stephanie in her dorm room, sitting at the desk under her lofted bed, talking to her very goth roommate Mindy. Mindy is heavyset, wearing tight black leggings, combat boots, a meshed black blouse, pentagram earrings and fishnet sleeves, and pigtails)


 MINDY: No, Steph, I’m not gonna go.


STEPHANIE: Why not?!


MINDY: Do you think I’d get on at a sorority party?!


STEPHANIE: Sorority chicks love having a misfit friend to pile onto.


MINDY: Why do you think that appeals to me?


STEPHANIE: Listen, I just need someone to go with.


MINDY: You’re not even invited!


STEPHANIE: Exactly, that’s why I need someone, there’s strength in numbers. If you want, we can dress you like a sorority girl.


MINDY: This is not even up for discussion.


(Mindy turns away and opens her laptop)


STEPHANIE: I’ll give you a hundred bucks.


MINDY: Jesus, Steph, have some dignity.


(Stephanie sighs and turns away. Cut to Leona standing in Charlie’s office at the hospital. Charlie looks annoyed as Leona points her finger at him)


LEONA: You weren’t even listening the other day- we’re going to go on STRIKE if this isn’t resolved!


CHARLIE: Jesus, Leona, I’m not robbing the pension fund, how many more ways should I say it? You want it in Chinese?! I-o not-o robbing-o the pension fund-O!


LEONA: That’s so offensive on so many levels.


CHARLIE: Fine! Go on strike, see if I care. I have vampire scabs who can extract blood at twice the rate of you sloths. Hundreds of ‘em!


LEONA: You think people won’t notice a horde of vampires descending on a hospital!?  Produce the money, or we’ll go on strike in twenty-four hours.


(Leona thrusts her crotch forward with a grunt, and leaves. Charlie shakes his head and leaves the room after her. Cut to Nancy sitting in the hemoglobin den- which is empty at the moment. She’s admiring an IV bag full of blood and playing thoughtfully with the IV tube. Charlie walks in) What are you doing in here?


NANCY: …I’ve always wondered what this tastes like…


(Charlie sits next to Nancy and grabs the tube. He takes a suck, and it leaves a hint of blood on his lips)


CHARLIE: Here’s a taste.


(Charlie starts making out with Nancy. Nancy quickly pulls away though and spits the blood onto the floor)


NANCY: Yucky.


CHARLIE: Nancy- you can’t just spit blood onto the floor like that!


NANCY: Why not?


CHARLIE: It’s not polite. Remember, you’re the janitor, you’ll have to clean that up.


NANCY: I haven’t cleaned anything in a year, Charles.


CHARLIE: Yeah, and the hospital is getting super messy as a result. The nurse’s union keeps nagging me to hire another janitor, like I’m MADE of money.


NANCY: Of course, you’re not, that’s why you had to rob their pension fund.


CHARLIE: Quiet, with that shit, babe.


(Charlie’s teeth protract and he goes for her neck, but Nancy pushes him away)


NANCY: Stop it.




NANCY: Stop that, I don’t want it.


CHARLIE: You said you were curious how blood tasted?


NANCY: Yeah, and it was icky.


CHARLIE: But if you’re a vamp, it won’t taste so bad.


NANCY: Too bad I don’t wanna..


(Nancy gets up and puts herself against the soft red velvet of the walls. Charlie stands up and leans against the wall beside her, as he lights a joint for himself)


CHARLIE: You’re getting some crow’s feet, babe.


NANCY: I’d still have ‘em if you turned me right now, would I not?


CHARLIE: Not if I pay for Botox, which I’m willing to do with that pension fund money.


(Nancy migrates to a mirror in the corner and she examines her crow’s feet)


NANCY: I rather like my crow’s feet. I fancy I was a crow in a previous life. (Nancy turns around) Caw! Caw! Caw!


(Charlie rolls his eyes and blows smoke. Cut to a middle-aged white man with a mustache wearing a white uniform with a white cap on, depicting an ice cream cone. He’s sitting on a doctor’s examining table, while a balding black doctor looks nervously down at his clipboard)


ICE CREAM MAN: …What is it. Please. Just say something.


DOCTOR: …Mr. Frost, I’m afraid you have diabetes.


(Mr. Frost gives a heavy sigh and rubs his eyes wearily)


MR. FROST: …How much time do I got, Doc?


(The Doctor shrugs)


DOCTOR: Six months. At most.


(Mr. Frost takes his hat off and runs his hand nervously through his hair. Cut to a small boutique theatre full of people watching this, with Sheffield and Tricia sitting in the back)


TRICIA: (Whispering) Wait, can diabetes be terminal like that?


SHEFFIELD: (Whispering) Just- it fits the theme, okay?


TRICIA: (Whispering) I just don’t think it works like cancer.


SHEFFIELD: (Whispering) Please, let’s just watch the movie and save it for the Q&A, alright?


TRICIA: (Whispering) You want ME to ask questions in the Q&A?


SHEFFIELD: (Whispering) Just- please. Enough.


(Cut back to the movie. We see Mr. Frost driving his ice cream truck through the streets of Chicago, while speaking through a bullhorn out the window)




(He passes by a group of black teens wearing gang colors and toting guns)


TEEN: Yo- fuck this shit, let’s get some ice cream!

(The teens throw their guns on the ground and pull off their red shirts and bandanas and run after the ice cream truck- through a succession of sprinklers. We see an ultra-slow motion shot of the shirtless black teens running through the sprinklers. Cut to Sheffield and Tricia)


SHEFFIELD: (Whispering) I tried to get real gang members to act in this for the realism, but they didn’t like the script.


(Tricia tries to hold her tongue)


TRICIA: …Interesting…


(Cut to Mr. Frost stopping the ice cream truck and handing out ice cream cones to the black teens for free. Then pan over to a group of heavyset, red-faced men in business suits standing outside a bank)


BUSINESSMAN: What is that gentleman doing over there?


BUSINESSMAN 2: It appears as though he’s giving away ice cream free of charge!


BUSINESSMAN: Well, that just won’t do!


(The businessmen huff and march over to the ice cream truck, but the truck speeds off, splashing a water puddle all over them, which we see dramatized in slow-motion. The black teens laugh at them, as they attempt to wipe themselves off and spit muddy water out of their mouths)


BUSINESSMAN: Unbelievable!!


(Cut to the ice cream man driving his ice cream truck across an interstate roadway in the middle of nowhere. He is screaming “FREE ICE CREAM” through his bullhorn as the businessmen chase him in their Mercedes Benz following close behind. They’re yelling out the windows as they follow- with saliva flying high. Several shots of confused people in the audience follow. We cut to Sheffield, who’s smirking next to Tricia, who looks uncomfortable)


TRICIA: …I gotta take a shit.


(Tricia gets up and tries to scoot past Sheffield)


SHEFFIELD: Wait, you’re gonna miss the best part- (Tricia runs away) Tricia! What are you doing?!


(We cut to a screen that says “3 HOURS AND 45 MINUTES LATER”. Cut to the Q&A after the screening. The house lights are up, revealing a sizeable chunk of the audience has left, and everybody looks tired. Sheffield is seated in a fold-out chair below the screen, next to a 69-year-old Lindsay Royce, the actor who played Mr. Frost, and the actors who played the business men. Mr. Frost is wearing a black suit and black dress shirt with no tie. Nobody but Sheffield seems happy to be there. The Moderator, a sad-looking middle aged dude, is sitting at the far-right end of the row of chairs with a wireless mic in hand)


MODERATOR: Alright, we’re joined by the director and writer, John Sheffield, the producer Lindsay Royce, the lead actor Marlon Vasquez, and the antagonists, Jack Whitley and Alfonse Zimmerman. Thanks for being here, guys!

SHEFFIELD: My pleasure.




(Marlon nods a bit)


MODERATOR: Let’s throw it to audience questions- line up in the aisles, and we’ll go first-come, first-serve.


(A young lady gets up and makes her way to the front of the aisle, where a microphone waits for her. She takes it)


YOUNG LADY: Yes, I have a question. What the fuck was that.


(The audience can’t help but laugh. The young lady sits down as the cast shift uncomfortably in their seats. Sheffield looks confused)


MODERATOR: You wanna take a crack at that?


SHEFFIELD: Well, I’m going to ignore the TONE of the question and just answer is directly. It was the story of a man with nothing to lose, who just wanted to spend his last days spreading joy and love, while a cadre of bourgeois profiteers tried to stop him.


(The lady stands up again, this time with no microphone)


YOUNG LADY: But why?! They didn’t even want to buy him out or anything, they just wanted to force him to sell his ice cream at a profit- what did they have to gain!?


SHEFFIELD: Enforcement of the capitalist order! I mean- I’m sorry if you didn’t get it, but it seemed pretty clear to me!


(The young lady scoffs and sits down)


MODERATOR: Alright, let’s settle down. Who’s next?


(A coiffed man in his mid-20s, wearing a suit, walks up to the microphone as Lindsay gives a heavy sigh)


EZRA: Hi, my name’s Ezra Milburn, I’m a film director and I was one of Sheffield’s classmates at Northwestern.


SHEFFIELD: (Annoyed) Hi, Ezra.


EZRA: I don’t really have a question, John, I just want to commend you on the unpretentious subtlety and RESTRAINT with which you approached this film. (Stifled laughter in the audience) Well done.


(Ezra smirks a shit-eating grin and walks away)


SHEFFIELD: For the record, that guy couldn’t tell a Dutch tilt from a Dutch tit, so, don’t listen to him.


MODERATOR: Why don’t we get a question for one of the actors?


MARLON: (Chilean accent) Please, don’t involve me in this.


(Cut to Sheffield sitting in his car smoking a cigarette while Tricia sits in the passenger’s seat smoking as well)


SHEFFIELD: What the FUCK was that?!


(Sheffield takes a pull from a whiskey bottle. Tricia lazily blows out smoke)


TRICIA: Not everybody’s gonna like everything.


SHEFFIELD: That was a fuckin’ ambush! That rat-fuck Ezra, I swear to God- his short film project junior year was a SHOT-FOR-SHOT remake of Lost in Translation, except Bill Murray’s character was a scientist and ScarJo’s character was a hot male lab assistant- but THEY WERE IN TOKYO! That stayed the same- except they ended up killing one another- the point is, FUCK THAT GUY, HE’S AN ASSHOLE!


TRICIA: John- I know what’ll make you feel better. How about I stimulate your cock until it spills seed onto your nice leather seats back here?


SHEFFIELD: …We can try that, I guess. (Cut to Sheffield limply riding Tricia in the backseat of his car, while clearly thinking about something else) …Lindsay didn’t say a goddamn word in my defense, and he was the producer!

TRICIA: Sheffield- please, just, ten-and-two, okay?


SHEFFIELD: And since when did Marlon get so sassy?!?


TRICIA: Oh my God, never mind, you’re completely soft.


(Tricia pulls out, and Sheffield puts his dick away, as Tricia lights up another cigarette)


SHEFFIELD: …I was trying to avoid the reviews, but I checked after the Q&A and um…they’re really bad. They’re really, really bad.


(Tricia shrugs)


TRICIA: Sheffield, this is your first major festival film. Not everybody hits it out of the park on the first go.


SHEFFIELD: Wait- do you like the movie?


(Tricia hesitates)


TRICIA: I do, but-


SHEFFIELD: JESUS! You don’t even like it!


TRICIA: Sheffield, please, I didn’t say that!


SHEFFIELD: Jesus, maybe I need to shoot some more scenes. Fill some plot holes.


(Tricia is stunned)


TRICIA: I’m sorry, WHAT?


SHEFFIELD: What?! We never even got into Mr. Frost’s childhood, and why he likes ice cream so much! (Tricia stares) …Maybe an ice cream man saved his mom’s life or something…


TRICIA: …The movie is four hours. How do you not- you know what, I’m gonna tap out before I say something I’ll regret. Examine your head, John. Christ.


(Tricia stubs out her cigarette and gets out of the car, as Sheffield looks on in disappointment. Cut to Roy sitting in the break room at the Huntsman law firm. Roy opens a fast-food wrapper and starts munching on a burger. Erica, the new intern, walks in and sits at the table with a paper bag in hand. Roy swallows his bite)


ROY: You make your own today?


(Erica pulls out a piece of Tupperware containing leftover stroganoff)


ERICA: Yep. It was stroganoff night last night.


ROY: Smells good.


(Erica removes the lid, stands up and opens the microwave as he puts the stroganoff in and sets the microwave to one minute and presses start)


ERICA: What do you got, Wendy’s again?


ROY: It’s just so close.


(Erica chuckles)


ERICA: I fuck with Wendy’s sometimes.


ROY: See, I knew you weren’t perfect.


ERICA: I think I like it because it’s forbidden- you know? We were never allowed fast food in the Lennon household.


(Erica opens the microwave and mixes the stroganoff around with a plastic fork. Roy furrows his brow)


ROY: Your last name’s Lennon?


ERICA: Yeah. (Erica closes the microwave door and sits down, and she digs into her stroganoff) Before you ask though, I’m not related to Joh Lennon.


(Roy chuckles as Erica takes a bite of her food)


ROY: Right, I mean, what about-


ERICA: Not Vladimir Lenin, either. Thank God. My brother would’ve hated that.


(Roy grows nervous)


ROY: …You have a brother?


ERICA: I, um… (Erica looks down) I had a brother. (Roy tenses up) He hated Leninists, he thought they were taking over the country.


(Roy takes a gulp)


ROY: What happened to him?


(Erica puts her fork down)


ERICA: …He was murdered two years ago. Really, mysterious circumstances.


(Roy grips the table and takes a deep breath, trying to suppress his emotions)


ROY: I am so, so sorry.


(Roy reaches for Erica’s hand, and she grasps his. Tears well in her eyes)


ERICA: Thank you. (Roy nods solemnly, but his eyes are portraits of remorse. Erica takes a deep breath) …You wanna get a drink after work?


ROY: Absolutely.


(Erica smiles. Cut to Roy fucking Erica in her bedroom. Roy is staring at a picture on her bedside table showing Harold and Erica Lennon posing with Mickey Mouse at Disney Land together. Harold is putting his tongue through his middle and index fingers and Erica is rolling her eyes)


ROY: (Under his breath) He was an asshole…


ERICA: What?


(Roy snaps back to attention)


ROY: Uh- I said, you like that?


ERICA: Yes! YES! (Roy speeds up his thrusts. Cut to Roy and Erica lying naked in bed together, basking in the afterglow. Erica is lying on her side as Roy lies on his back) …I had been thinking about him less lately, you know?


ROY: …Really?


ERICA: Yeah. Still every day, but. Less. (Beat) Honestly, he could be an asshole, but. He was my brother.


(Roy nods)


ROY: …But he could be an asshole? (Erica nods) Like, how?


ERICA: …I mean, he had a lot of problematic views. Could be pretty obnoxious and self-important. Stuff like that.


ROY: …But did he like, kill little rabbits for fun or anything?


ERICA: What? No.


ROY: Okay, okay, just making sure.


(Erica looks puzzled and gets up)


ERICA: I’ve gotta pee.


(Erica walks into the bathroom. Roy runs his hands down his face and gives a heavy, exasperated sigh. Cut to the exterior of the Delta Zeta sorority house. A bumping party is going on inside. Stephanie approaches it, wearing a tank-top and super short jean shorts. She runs into a muscular dude at the front)


BOUNCER: You got a V-card?


STEPHANIE: What?! No- no, I lost it to this guy named Andy- it wasn’t necessarily-


BOUNCER: No, I mean, a vaccine card.


STEPHANIE: OH! Shit. Sorry.


(Stephanie laughs nervously and digs into her purse)


BOUNCER: I’m just fuckin’ with you, we don’t care about that. Go on in.


(Stephanie smiles as the bouncer clears the way. Stephanie creeps into the party. It’s a classic sorority party- a lot of girls and plenty of guys, Top 40 pop playing, people mingling. Emily, Madison and Hannah are doing shots in the kitchen when Stephanie comes in. She makes eye contact with Madison, but immediately shies away and sits on the couch, next to a dude wearing a red-white-and-blue headband and smoking a blunt)


STEPHANIE: Pretty good music, right?!


DUDE: Who the fuck are you.


(The dude hands Stephanie the blunt)


STEPHANIE: Oh, uh- just a friend of one of the…people here.


(Stephanie’s heart jumps as she sees Madison, Hannah and Emily approaching)


DUDE: You mean those bitches?




(Madison, Hannah and Emily stand before her)


MADISON: She doesn’t mean us bitches.


(Stephanie nervously takes a hit of the blunt)


EMILY: She’s not supposed to be here.


DUDE: No way! (The dude snatches the blunt from Stephanie as she releases smoke from her mouth) I don’t want some interloper’s slobber all over my tightly rolled blunts, this shit is Cuban and shit!


STEPHANIE: Someone else invited me, Madison.


MADISON: I literally know every girl within a ten-mile radius, so don’t even try this shit.


STEPHANIE: I’m serious!


EMILY: Fine, who invited you?


STEPHANIE: It was a girl named, uh…Moth!


MADISON: You know I know every girl in a ten-mile radius, so you use a name that’s not a name to make me think I forgot one- nice try, but you’re not the first one to think that one up.




MADISON: Time to go.


(Stephanie’s eyes well up)


STEPHANIE: …I’m just trying to make friends.


MADISON: Well, then you should try what I did. Already have them.


(Madison points to the door, and Stephanie runs off. Cut to Stephanie in her dorm, crying into Mindy’s  chest on her bed. Mindy is clutching her head and stroking her hair)


MINDY: Shhhhh, it’s alright, baby. Let it out.




MINDY: I don’t know, Steph.


STEPHANIE: CARTOONISHLY MEAN! Like- isn’t being this mean a taboo by college?!


MINDY: Surprisingly, no, babe. (Stephanie sobs some more) I’ll tell you what, Steph. I’m having a hang-out with my friends in a few weeks, why don’t you come to that?


(Stephanie sniffs and looks up at Mindy)


STEPHANIE: …With your friends?


MINDY: Forget it-


STEPHANIE: No, no, no, okay, I’ll go!


(Cut to Tricia sitting in front of the TV at her and Sheffield’s apartment. She’s watching “I Think You Should Leave” with Tim Robinson on Netflix- and in the sketch a middle-aged guy tries to pull out of a parking space, until an SUV brakes suddenly behind him)


GUY: What are you doing? (The SUV drives on as the guy pulls out) Fuckin’ asshole. (The guy is driving behind the SUV, which is going slowly) Come on, man. Come on, man, go! (The SUV stops again) What? I’m going around this asshole. (The guy tries to go around the SUV, but the SUV blocks him) What the fuck!? (He honks) Come on, man, GO! (He honks some more. Tim Robinson pokes his head out of the SUV’s window. The guy rolls his window down and sticks his head out) What is your problem, man, do you know how to FUCKING DRIVE?!


TIM: No!


GUY: What!?!


TIM: No, I don’t know how to fuckin’ drive! I don’t what any of this shit is- and I’m fucking scared!




TIM: Not everybody knows how to do everything- driving isn’t the ONLY thing!




(Tricia gets a call on her cell phone as the sketches goes on. She sees the caller ID simply reads “CUNT”. Tricia bristles and pauses the show. She takes a deep breath and answers)




(Cut to Pauline Patterson, a 58-year-old woman with dyed blonde hair in a turtleneck sweater, standing in the driveway of a suburban home having a cigarette while on the phone. Intercut between Pauline and Tricia)


PAULINE: Patricia, why have you been ignoring me?!


TRICIA: I’m not ignoring you- I’ve just been busy, Sheffield’s losing his fucking mind these past few weeks.




TRICIA: It’s JOHN, mom! You’ve met John before!


PAULINE: Since when have you called him “Sheffield”!?




PAULINE: Don’t talk to me like that, young lady, I brought you in this world and I can take you out- stamp “return to sender” on your ass and shove you headlong into my snatch.


TRICIA: Mom- what the fuck do you want?




TRICIA: Jesus Goat-fucking Christ, mom, you’re a cliché. Plus- you have grandchildren!


PAULINE: I WANT GOOD GRANDCHILDREN! Not those little SHITS that Topher doesn’t even pay child support for anymore.


TRICIA: Sheffield and I are not gonna have kids.


PAULINE: Then get married! I AT LEAST want a party to go to where I can get fucked up.


TRICIA: Then just throw a party!


PAULINE: With who?! The dusty old cunts at my bridge club who go to bed at 8pm!? Or should I call up dad’s prison buddies and invite them over to play dominoes?!


TRICIA: You might remember I have FOUR OTHER BROTHERS who could give you grandchildren.


PAULINE: But they’re all fucking incels!


TRICIA: Mom, I have to go.


PAULINE: What are you so busy with?


TRICIA: I’m not busy, I’ve just reached my limit with you. Talk to you in a month!




TRICIA: …Yeah?


PAULINE: I love you, honey.


(Tricia takes a deep breath)


TRICIA: …Love you too, bye.


(Tricia quickly hangs up and she un-pauses the show, as the guy continues to yell at Tim Robinson)






(Tim grabs it, and immediately recoils and screams in pain)




(Cut to Oliver sitting in Dr. Nestle’s office, on a couch across from her. They’re sitting in an uncomfortable silence, though Dr. Nestle doesn’t break eye contact, even as Oliver looks down. Oliver picks up a piece of lint from the couch and blows it off his index fingers. Dr. Nestle smiles and leans forward)


DR. NESTLE: We’re about fifteen minutes in, is there anything you’d like to talk about?


(Oliver takes a deep breath)


OLIVER: …Well, I didn’t want to talk about this before, but I feel like I have to, now.


DR. NESTLE: Please, go ahead.


OLIVER: …At my graduation a few weeks ago, I thought I saw my brother in the crowd.


(Dr. Nestle nods)


DR. NESTLE: I see.


OLIVER: Which is impossible because he died in a car crash when I was twelve.


DR. NESTLE: Yes, I’m aware.


OLIVER: But it wasn’t only then. I saw him in a car outside my apartment, later that night. When I looked closer, the car speed away- or, HE sped away.


DR. NESTLE: …Have you been thinking about your brother more lately?


OLIVER: No! I had been thinking about him less!


DR. NESTLE: Well, he could’ve seeped into your subconscious.


OLIVER: But I haven’t finished- that night, I could’ve sworn I woke up and saw him staring at me through my window. I don’t know for sure, I could’ve been dreaming- but it felt real. He looked exactly the same- just paler. He looked eighteen. He even had one of those Affliction shirts, like it’s the mid-2000s.


DR. NESTLE: …Oliver. (Dr. Nestle leans forward) Usually I would chalk this up to suppressed grief, but I have to be honest. This, combined with the delusion you have about being a vampire-


OLIVER: Oh, fuckin’ hell-


DR. NESTLE: Has me very concerned for your mental health.


OLIVER: I never should’ve fuckin’ told you that.


DR. NESTLE: I’m glad you did. Because we need to work through it.


OLIVER: What would I have to do to prove it to you?


DR. NESTLE: Oliver, vampires don’t exist. That’s why we need to figure out why you’re having this delusion.


OLIVER: Vampires don’t exist? (Oliver leans forward) Why the fuck do murder victims keep showing up in Chicago, COMPLETELY drained of blood?


DR. NESTLE: It’s a serial killer, Oliver. I’ve seen it on the news- they call him the South Side Vampire.




DR. NESTLE: It’s a nickname.


(Oliver throws his hands up)


OLIVER: 250 drained bodies over the past year alone! That would make this serial killer the most prolific in history by like, 150 victims!


DR. NESTLE: You seem to know a lot about this, Oliver.


OLIVER: What the fuck does that mean?!


DR. NESTLE: I’m just reflecting that back to you, it’s an observation.


OLIVER: Jesus, every time you make a vague allegation, you just say you’re “reflecting it back to me”, well, reflect this!

(Oliver holds up his middle finger)


DR. NESTLE: You’re being very hostile.


(Oliver puts down the offending gesture)


OLIVER: You’re right that there’s a serial killer- SEVERAL serial killers, and those serial killers are vampires. Got it?! When will people wake up!?


DR. NESTLE: But you believe that you only drink animal blood?


OLIVER: Jesus- is that what do I have to do? Here-


(Oliver pulls out a knife and grabs a tissue from the Kleenex box on the coffee table. He slices his hand and bleeds onto the tissue)


DR. NESTLE: Jesus! Oliver!


(Oliver crumples up the tissue)


OLIVER: Test that blood, and you’ll see it’s horse blood, not human blood. Explain that shit.


(Oliver sits back defiantly, and Dr. Nestle looks shaken. She shifts uncomfortably in her seat)


DR. NESTLE: Please throw that away. (Oliver angrily grabs the tissue and tosses it in a nearby waste basket. Dr. Nestle composes herself, gets up, goes to her desk, grabs a box of band-aids, retrieves one, hands it to Oliver and sits down. Oliver unwraps the band-aid and places it over the wound) …So, uhhh…are you and Kelly still fighting?


(Oliver smirks and nods)


OLIVER: …Yeah.


(Fade to black)


Submitted: September 27, 2021

© Copyright 2021 NEONETWORK. All rights reserved.

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