$10 A Carton (Or A Short Script on Love)

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$10 A Carton (Or A Short Script on Love).
Five page Creative Challenge.

Submitted: August 19, 2012

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Submitted: August 19, 2012

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\""Eye[x]

$10 A Carton (Or A Short Script on Love)

by a. rex

INT. NEW YORK APARTMENT - NIGHT

A high-end kitchen connects into a chice living room. TOM, a handsome rascal in his early twenties, runs into the kitchen, sliding on his socks. Laundry and his dufflebag fall out of his arms. The phone rings; he picks it up.

TOM

Stop worrying. It'll be okay. And stop calling.

Opens fridge, chugs milk from carton. Spits it out in disgurt, missing the sink.

TOM

Soy? Vegan? What - Yeah, he still does. It's awful.

Someone opens and shuts the front door.

TOM (continuing)

He's here. Stop calling.

TOM tries to clean the mess with some clothes, gives up, attempts to run into another room. He remembers the carton, runs to put it back. He hears footsteps. Trapped, he hides behind the kitchen's island. JACK is texting, enters living room.

JACK

Tom? Tom? Tom? Tom?

He throws his briefcase on a chair, and collapses like fallen timber onto his couch, business suit and all. TOM peeks from behind kitchen island, guesses coast is clear. He takes one step.

JACK

That milk cost me $10 a carton, you moron.

TOM

How do you even know--

JACK

I know everything.

TOM begins stuffing his laundry in his bag.

JACK

Put my Pink Floyd shirt back.

TOM

That is definitely mine.

JACK

Tuesday, September 7th. I made Dad's casserole, played my Dark Side of the Moon record. The next day, Christina gave me that shirt, and told me she never wanted to listen to Pink Floyd again.

TOM

It's unhealthy how much you remember.

JACK sits up, takes his seat on his throne.

JACK

Unhealthy? It's been over a year and I can't stop drinking that milk. I can't stop sitting on the same bench at lunch. I still job 'our route'. So don't tell me what is unhealthy, you bamboozling bookie!

TOM

Bamboozling. Bookie?

JACK

I'm trying to be insulting.

TOM

Word of advice, bro, Dr. Suess is not the guy to consult on that sort of thing.

JACK falls back over, deflated.

Thanks, bro, let me go shelve my Green Eggs and Ham.

TOM carefully pulls out a thick envelope from his pocket. He hestitates. 

JACK

Please tell me those are the take-out coupons you will be living on for the rest of your life, and not what I think it is.

TOM

Neither. It's for you.

JACK sits up, takes the envelope. He looks inside. He puts it down on the table. He walks into his bedroom and lets out a long yell. He walks back out, wearing a coat.

JACK

I am going out. On my birthday. Alone. When I come back, you will be gone.

TOM

Jack, seriiously, I'm paying you back. This isn't credit, it's for reals --

JACK

My shirt will be here. My briefcase, computer, everything will be here. But you.

TOM

No, bro--

JACK

DO NOT 'NO BRO' ME. I AM AWARE WE ARE BROTHERS. NOW GET OUT. NOW.

TOM

Now, now. Sit down. I'll get you something to drink, and we'll discuss this like adults. How about some milk? You can play that record, I'm much more open minded about music than Christina--

JACK

DON'T TALK ABOUT HER THAT WAY. SHE HAD GREAT TASTE IN MUSIC.

TOM

Yes, that great taste got her working in  LA  in kiddie radio, bro, I mean, yeah. Now let's count to ten--

JACK charges at TOM. He's no match for his fitter, bigger, younger brother. When JACK realizes he can't overpower TOM, he spins him around, tries going for the door. TOM grabs him around the waist. JACK runs, dragging a sliding TOM.

TOM

This. Is. Nuts. Resistance. Is. Futile.

JACK

DON'T QUOTE WHAT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND.

TOM

Nerd. Stay. Here. You. Have. To.

JACK

LET GO.

JACK stops, and falls back on TOM. They groan in pain. TOM gets up first, limping, to the door, locks it. He covers it with his arms, as JACK stands up.

JACK

Let me just go, TOM. I'm not bailing you out again. I'm not. So just please, let me go out, alone, on my birthday. My gift from you.

TOM

No, bro -

JACK raises a finger, threatening. TOM's arms are in mock surrender.

TOM

I made the money back. You remember hw I played piano? Yeah. Ok. Well, I've been giving lessons to your clients. Now don't look at me that way, you leave your email open, and I made bank, I --

JACK walks slowly back to the envelope. He looks at the money again.

JACK

Piano lessons?

TOM

Mrs. Gunner's twins on Saturdays, Mr. Fredrick's daughter on Tuesday, and Mr. Yon's on Thursdays, but he's in Hong Kong, so I wouldn't call him now. I think it's breakfast time.

JACK

Would you really use Mrs. Gunner's name in vain?

TOM

Not a chance.

JACK

Good.

TOM

Great.

JACK

And it's lunchtime.

TOM

Okay. Right. Smart ass.

JACK

I'll take that milk now.

TOM dashes to get the glass of milk.

There's a knock on the door.

TOM

There's something else.

JACK

I KNEW IT. I KNEW IT WAS TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE.

TOM unlocks the door and opens it.

TOM

Happy birthday.

JACK spits out his milk, choking.

JACK

Christina?

 

 


© Copyright 2017 andromeda rex. All rights reserved.

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