Ebscris and the Legend of the Thumb People

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
A script to a movie telling why our socks disappear in the laundry.

Submitted: May 18, 2008

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Submitted: May 18, 2008



The Legend of Ebscris and the Thumb People
Narrator: Long, long ago, in a land far, far, away, there lived a man named Tom.  He lived in a little village named Detroit. The people of Detroit were modest, and quiet, and old-fashioned. Tom lived quietly in Detroit, as a tailor. He was good at fixing clothes, and loved by his small community. Tom was reliable and fast, and was able to patch holes faster than a celebrity relationship could begin and end. One day, in late September, when Tom was hard at work in his shop, a very young and professional lady strode through the front door. (the sound of bells tinkling)
Tom: Hallo, how can I help you, miss?
Liza: Good Morning. My name is Liza, and I’m here from Ye Olde Public Records Department. Is a living relative of Tom Tailor here?
Tom: Er, well, I’m Tom-
Liza: Did you know that you can be sentenced to up to 15 years in the dungeon for impersonating someone?
Tom: Wait, what? What does that have to do with anything?
Liza: You can’t be Mr. Tailor. According to our records, he’s dead.
Tom: What? That’s not...-how...-ah...-do I look dead?
Liza: No, sir. You do not.
Tom: Well, I’m Tom Tailor, and I’m sure as heck alive, so can you change that, at all?
Liza: I can, but-
Tom: What?
Liza: Well, a record alteration as immense as that would take about 764,915 pages of paperwork, years of testing to ensure that you are, indeed Mr. Tom Tailor, and approximately 9 years after that for the change to register in our system.
Tom:  What? All you have to do is chip the part that says “dead” off the tablet!
Liza: I’m sorry, sir. We can’t do that.
TomErgh. Well, is there anything else I can do to correct this?
Liza: Well, you could-
Tom: Killing myself isn’t an option.
Liza: Oh. Well, you could, uh, hmm. You could leave town, and become a hermit and live by yourself in a remote, unsettled wilderness...
Tom: Can’t I just move to Camaloops or something?
Liza: Ah, no. They would have the same records.
Tom: Oh. Well. Hmm. Bye, then.
Narrator: So, Tom packed his bags and left his beloved tailor-shop. He traveled the country, searching for that elusive remote, unsettled, wilderness, but alas, he found none, thanks to America’s vast highway system. Then one day, he found it.
Tom: What? There’s nothing here except for trees, grass, and a highway!
Narrator: (whispering) No, Tom. Over there. The hole.
Tom: What about it?
Narrator: (sigh) Go in the hole, Tom.
Tom: Ah, okay....
Narrator: At last, Tom had found his haven. It was perfect. Already equipped with the necessities of life, there couldn’t be a better secret cave for Tom to live in.
Tom: It looks like an old, abandoned, underground secret lair.
Narrator:  But Tom was grateful that his new home was an old, abandoned, underground secret lair, because, that meant that Tom already had, besides a bathroom and food, a rockin’ sound system and free high speed internet!
TomReally? Sweet! (Tom hits a button on a large control panel and begins to dance to a random song. Suddenly, the music stops.) Wait. (pan of the secret lair) *to camera* what does this place have again?
Narrator: A bed, a bathroom, food, shelter from the elements, a stereo, and a computer.
Tom: Any lava lamps?
Narrator: No.
Tom: Pinball machine?
Narrator: No.
Tom: Cable television?
Narrator: No.
Tom: Huh...
(music begins as Tom scrambles out of the hole. After a moment, we see tom return with a box. Next, we see the lair has been transformed into a bachelor pad.)
Tom: Much better!
Narrator: The new lair-turned-house was perfect. Tom, now able to live more comfortably, had a whole new life ahead of him. Except for one thing.
Tom: (sigh) I don’t know what’s wrong. I mean, I’ve got this new home, new clothes, and essentially a new identity. But, it feels like I’m not quite done. (pause) I know! I should change my name! Since Tom Tailor is dead, anyways,  why not?
Narrator:  He thought long and hard about what his name should be. Jimmy? Fred? No, he thought. Those aren’t good. In a bazillion years, when my story is told, who wants to hear about a hero named Bob? Nobody. That’s why my name has to be new. Interesting. Unique. I know....
Tom: Ebscris! There. That’s perfect.
Narrator: Ebscris lived a good life there, in the old lair. He was happy, and content, and since the world thought he was dead, he wasn’t ever bothered. One day, after updating his livejournal, Ebscris went poking around the back closet of the lair.
(Tom [Ebscris] opens a closet. It is dirty and old, and creaks. On the shelf was various supplies, such as beakers and books and things. On the top shelf, there is a beaker filled with a greenish, glowing goo. He reaches for it, but it falls, and shatters on the ground. A shard of glass severs his thumb, and it falls into the goo. It grows legs, arms, and a face, and begins to bow to Tom.)
Thumb guy: Maaaaaster!
Tom: (confused) Wait, what?
Thumb guy: I will serve Master! We will all serve master! (With this, bunches of thumb people appear around Tom, and begin to eat his socks. Tom runs away, and the thumb people chase)
Tom: STOP!
(the thumb people halt)
Thumb people: (In unison) Yes master, but we want sockses!
Tom: Uh, go get some then!
Narrator: But there was one problem. Since they were underground, there were no socks to eat! So, the Thumb People grabbed shovels and began work. The thumb people dug a vast system of tunnels, to every dryer, in every home. The thumb people had an ever replenishing food source at their disposal, and worked as Ebscris’s army forever more. Everyone lived happily ever after, and even now, the Thumb People steal our socks, to keep their bellies full.

© Copyright 2018 George. All rights reserved.

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