Sitcom - AKA Three Young Hitlers in a Baggie by The Juanabees

This came up on Facebook recently, and I'm posting it here mostly to fill in some blanks in some people's awareness.

Many people who know me know that I spent a big chunk of my 20s touring Canada in a comedy troupe called "The Juanabees."  Those were some cool times.  At one point we were called "Canada's best comedy troupe without a TV show" - which at that point put us third to CodCo and Kids in the Hall. But in the same year we were also mocked heavily by haters, so let's not forget that here I am 20 years later and no one outside of my circle of friends remembers the Juanabees.

What follows is the full script of our fourth show.  It was variously called "Sitcom" (as it had been conceived as a 90 minute sitcom put on stage) and at other times (at Canadian Fringe Festivals) "Three Young Hitlers in a Baggie" which was a promotional riff on the names of some of the more popular shows from previous shows on the Canadian Fringe Festival circuit.

This show was the artistic high-water mark for the Juanabees, though the main tour was one of our roughest - but that is a story for another time.

The play was outlined over the course of a dozen meetings with myself, Rob Fredrickson and my main collaborator through my years with the Juanabees, Norm McConnell.  I fleshed out the script before it was workshopped by Rob, Norm, myself as well as our director and stage manager, Matthew Bissett and Mike Rinaldi, who joined the team on short notice and only made the show better.

This version of the script is a representation of the show in its final version - about three years after its original run and three separate mountings with various cast configurations.  This does represent the "best" version of the show, though there were definitely gags which worked better the first time around than the last. "X-Files!" in the first scene was originally "'Trek's on!" and I am not convinced that the (then) update of cultural reference was worth the change. Also many of the visual gags, are at best only implied here and just don't have the impact they did live.

After this show's last tour I left the company to pursue other things.  Norm carried on for a while with the Juanabees, notably creating a serialized sequel to this which I was never able to see, but did get to read some scripts of which were very funny.  As to this script, it still makes me laugh, even though it is getting dated and there are bits that I am proud to have contributed to the history of Canadian comedy.

Enjoy.

­SITCOM

a stage play

CHARACTERS:

ACTOR ONE:

Mark Bloe - A student.

ACTOR TWO:

Nigel DeMentia - A bottom rung executive & latent serial killer, but the audience doesn't know the latter part yet.

ACTOR THREE:

Teak Phlegming - A bicycle courier from dimension x. But the audience doesn't know the latter part yet. Teak is written as male but can just as easily be female.

ACTOR FOUR:

Everyone Else - With some strategic cheating from actors one through three. Ideally the audience never clues in to the latter part.

SETTINGS:

The living room at #13 Cecelia Blvd: With TV, couch, table and exits to outside, kitchen & bedrooms.

The Smudgy Pigeon: A pub.

HappyMart: A convenience store, video rental outlet and "Lance and Willow's Rice-o-teria."

The Street:  A secluded section of street illuminated by a single street light.

The various settings should be easily changed in only a few moments of blackout. Maintaining the speed of the action is more important than the accuracy or detail of the set, so either a large stage with separate areas for each set piece or on a smaller stage the set should be as universal as possible.

BLACKOUT ONE:

"Funky Town" by Pseudo Echo begins.

Blair: It's Blair Faire on the air on WFUZ flash in the pan radio. It's the drive at five on this sunny afternoon and I can't believe the heat in the bowl. We're all going to be sleeping without our sheets tonight. Here's one of my favourite one hit wonders. It's Pseudo Echo with Funky Town....

Music continues and fades.

SCENE ONE:

No. 13 Cecelia Blvd. - Evening

Teak is sitting alone in the living room. He is perched over top of the telephone. After several moments he pounces upon it.

Teak: Hello.

He hangs up, waits and pounces again.

Teak: Hello?

And again.

Teak: Hello? Is anybody there?

Mark enters.

Teak: Hello?

Mark: What are you doing?

Teak: You know how sometimes you pick up the phone and there's already someone on the line even though it hasn't rung yet?

Mark: You're trying to do that?

Teak: Yeah.

Mark: Why?

Teak: Maybe they'll think I'm psychic.

Mark sighs and leaves.

Teak: Hello? Hello?

Nigel: (Offstage.) Teak!

Teak: Hello?

Nigel enters.

Nigel: Teak?

Teak: Hello? Is anybody there?

Nigel: Oh for God's sake. Teak!

Nigel snatches the phone from Teak and hangs it up.

Teak: Hey!

Phone rings.

Teak: Oh!

Nigel: Hello?

Teak: Ahhk!

Nigel: Dale! Phone!

Dale: (Offstage.) Got it!

Nigel hangs up.

Nigel: We've got to talk.

Teak: No we don't.

Nigel: Yes we do.

Teak: No we don’t.

Nigel: Yes we do.

Teak: Eat and breathe.

Nigel: What?

Teak: Eat and breathe. If we don't eat and breathe we will die.

Nigel: What does that have to do with...?

Teak: You said we have to talk. We don't. We have to eat and breathe. If we don't eat and breathe, we die. We don't have to talk.

Nigel: That's not what I mean....

Teak: Monks.

Nigel: Monks?

Teak: Monks don't talk, they don't die.

Nigel: Yes, alright! Look, you have to do the dishes.

Teak: No I don't.

Nigel: Yes you do.

Teak: No I don't.

Nigel: Yes you do.

Teak: Bushmen.

Nigel: Bushmen?

Teak: Bushmen don't even have dishes, they don't die.

Nigel: Yes, but it's your turn to do the dishes.

Teak: So?

Nigel: We all agreed we'd do the dishes when it's our turn.

Teak:  What about you and Mark?

Nigel: Mark and I do the dishes when it’s our turn.

Teak: I never see Dale doing the dishes.

Nigel: Nobody ever sees Dale at all. He never leaves his room! How can he even make dishes if he never leaves his room?

Teak: I don't make dishes either.

Nigel: Yes you do!

Teak: I buy them.

Nigel: Ahh! You're being difficult.

Teak: You're getting mad.

Nigel: You're damned right I'm getting mad! I get mad when you get difficult!

Teak: You're not making any sense.

Nigel: Is there any getting through to you at all?

Teak: Huh?

Mark enters.

Mark: It's eight o'clock.

Nigel & Teak: X-Files!

Nigel and Teak sit and watch TV, turning off the rest of the world. Mark begins writing in his diary.

Mark's Voice:  Dear Diary, June 6th 1996. All told today has been a fairly average day. I got up, went to school, came home and listened to Teak and Nigel argue. Not that I'm complaining. If they weren't arguing, something would be askew... askew? A-S-C-U... No. A-S-K-O... Hmmrn....

Mark addresses the audience directly.

Mark: To hell with this. There are easier ways to deal with the exposition. Now where was I...?

Nigel: Teak, the point is moot. Darth Vader exists in an entirely different cinematic reality. Even if Mulder could withstand The Force, they'd never meet each other.

Teak: You under-estimate the power of the dimensional vortex.

Nigel: Dimensional vortex? No such thing.

Teak: There is so. I learned it from the Wisdom Troll.

Nigel: Oh for God's sake.

Mark: Ah yes, Teak and Nigel's arguments.  They aren’t really arguments in the classic sense of the word.  For two people to argue effectively, they both have to connect with what the other is saying. I don't think Teak connects with anything anyone says.

Teak: Commercial!

Teak gets up and leaves.

Mark: Imagine a man conversing passionately with a chimpanzee, and you've pretty much got the idea. Don't get me wrong. Chimpanzees may be fairly intelligent, but they just don't have the same priorities we do. Neither does Teak.

Teak returns from the kitchen. He is carrying a bag of small dried fish like you would find in Chinatown.

Teak: Fish?

Mark: No.

Teak returns to TV-land.

Mark: He doesn't eat like normal people, he doesn't dress like normal people, and he certainly doesn't act like normal people....

Teak: You know how Mulder and Scully are trying to prevent the earth from being invaded by an evil dimension?

Nigel: Yeah?

Teak: It's not true.

Nigel: No shit.

Teak: This is the evil dimension.

Nigel hits him.

Mark: And then there's Nigel. Y'know those advertisements above your head on the bus? That's Nigel. He sells those spaces for a living. Nigel and I go way back. I remember the first time I met him. It was the first day of kindergarten. We were all supposed to be drawing pictures of our homes and families. Nigel had been sent to the corner for drawing an anatomically correct picture of his adoptive fathers. I hit him in the head with the class hamster, and he just kind of opened up to me. He's been my best friend ever since. It's a bit of chore sometimes though....

Nigel: Mark, do you think you and your friends can keep it down? I'm trying to watch X-Files.

Mark: Sorry Nige.

Teak: Fish?

Nigel: No.

Mark: Nigel's honest, dependable, he's got good fashion sense...

Nigel: Mark, you are interrupting the show television was made for.

Mark: But, he's a little obsessive....

Nigel: MARK!

Teak: They're crunchy!

Nigel: PISS OFF!

Mark lowers his voice to a whisper.

Mark: And a little pushy.

Mark beckons the audience away from the television and Nigel.

Mark: Nigel is the centre of his world. Anyone or anything which doesn't revolve around him suffers his wrath. He's passionate about every detail of his life. Every year at Christmas his fathers send him a case of Maalox. He's tried therapy, but every psychiatrist he goes to inevitably ends up taking a long sabbatical just as Nigel begins to feel he's getting something out of it....

Nigel: Ahhh... Dana Scully, I'd do anything for her.

Teak: Fish?

Nigel: Thanks.

Mark: I have a third roommate as well. Dale. You don't see him here, and you wouldn't even if you sat there an entire week. Dale is endowed with the ability to not leave his room. Actually, that's not true. I've seen evidence of him leaving his room. His groceries get eaten, visitors come and go, I've heard him in the bathroom. But I've never actually seen him. In fact if the police asked me for a composite sketch of Dale it would probably end up looking like Mr. Potato-Head... or maybe Ernest Borgnine. But as long as he pays the rent, I'm happy, and my Mother is happy. She owns this house. She lives uptown. I manage this place and freeload off of her while I work on my third bachelor's degree at the University, and lie to the student loan people about my living expenses. All in all, the situation suits me fine.

Nigel: Good episode. I liked the part where Cancer Man got his face sucked off by the flying vampire pancakes.

Teak: Yeah, but space crabs don't really do that.

Nigel: How do you know?

Teak: It happened to my uncle once.

Teak picks up the phone.

Teak: Hello?

Nigel grabs the phone from Teak.

Nigel: Teak!

Nigel and Teak scowl at each other. Teak leaves.

Nigel: Mark, I've got a problem.

Mark: It's Teak isn't it?

Nigel: No, it's the dishes.

Mark: Maybe you should talk to them about it.

Nigel: Look, Teak never does his dishes, and no matter how I appeal to him he still never does them.

Mark: Well, here's an idea Nige. Who's dishes are they?

Nigel: They're mine, I bought them when we moved in.

Mark: Why don't you tell him that he can't use your dishes anymore. That way he'll have to wash them for fear of being caught.

Nigel: That's a good idea. That's a great idea! Teak! Hey, Teak!

Mark: Nigel, I wasn't serious.

Teak enters.

Nigel: Teak.

Teak: Nigel?

Mark: Nigel…

Nigel: Mark.  Teak…

Teak: Nigel.

Nigel: Look…

Teak: Mark.

Nigel: LOOK…

Teak: Dale!

Dale: (Offstage.) Yeah?

Mark: Nothing!

Phone rings.

Nigel: Mark?

Mark answers phone.

Mark: Yeah?  Dale!

Dale: (Offstage.) Got it!

Nigel: STOP IT!! Alright. Teak.

Teak: Nige...

Nigel: Ah! Look. If you aren't going to wash your dishes, you aren't allowed to use them anymore. Got it?

Teak: Okay… Nigel.

Teak leaves.

Nigel: Well, that was easy.

Mark: Nigel's been having some trouble at work lately. I think now would be an appropriate time to talk to him about it. Say Nigel, did you get that promotion you were after?

Nigel: Don't get me started.

Mark: Nigel's immediate superior was found dead in an alleyway last week.  The police suspect foul play. What's the matter Nige?

Nigel: I said don't get me started.

Mark: So you didn't get the job?

Nigel: I don't want to talk about it.

Mark: You sound upset.

Nigel: No I'm fine. I just don't want to talk about it.

Mark: So someone else got the job? Someone less deserving than you?

Nigel: I didn't say that!

Mark: Are you feeling a little useless and down on yourself?

Nigel: Shut-up!

Teak enters the room wearing boots covered in duct tape – sticky-side out. He is sticking to the floor with every step.

Mark: What are you doing?

Teak: Vacuum is broken.

Mark: Ah.

Nigel: Oh for God's sake....

An old man bursts through the door.

Nigel: Oh no.

Mr. B.: What is this? What's going on here? Who are you people? What are you doing in my house?

Nigel: Mr. Bludfluke, this isn't your apartment. You don't live here anymore!

Mark: This is Mr. Bludfluke. He used to own this house twenty years ago. Sometimes he forgets what year it is and escapes from the seniors centre and shows up here, thinking it's home.

    Teak has continued walking about the living room. Nigel and Mr. Bludfluke are arguing. Mr. Bludfluke shoves past Nigel as Mark quits talking. Mark turns to observe the chaos behind him. Teak begins to sing loudly.

Teak: I love to go a wandering along the mountain path…  (Etc.)

    Nigel has wrestled Mr. Bludfluke to the floor. Mr. Bludfluke is hollering obscenities and preaching against disrespect towards veterans like himself. Nigel picks him up and out the door.

Teak: Val-der-ahhh!

Teak exits into the bedroom.

Mr. B.: (Offstage.) You're going to break my colostomy bag!

Teak: (Offstage.) My knap sack on my back!

Something bursts off stage.

Nigel: Oh shit !

Mr. B.: I told you!

Mark: Sometimes around here entire days go on like this.

Scene.

BLACKOUT TWO:

Blair: Hello caller. Who is this?

Randi: This is Randi.

Blair: Good evening Randi. Where are you calling from?

Randi: I am calling from my place of employment. Please do not tell my boss.

Blair: Oh, I'm afraid I'm going to have to.

          Randi: Oh my goodness! (Sound of receiver dropping. Randi's voice recedes to background.) Oh! I am dropping the phone! (Returning to receiver.) Please do not do that.

Blair: Hey, don't get too worked up. I'm just kidding Randi.

Randi: Oh thank you.

Blair: What would you like to hear?

Randi: I would like to dedicate this to my special friend at HappyMart. Please play "Let's Go All the Way?"

Blair: Got a little 'Sly Fox' you'd like to get tropical with eh, Randi?

Randi: Oh, you could be saying that twice!

"Let's Go All the Way" by Sly Fox fades in, then out again.

SCENE TWO: The Smudgy Pigeon - Evening.

Pat is wiping the bar.

Mark enters.

Mark: Ah! The Smudgy Pigeon; home of low life beggars boozers and bar rats. You won't ever find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. We must be cautious. I only come here because it's the closest bar to my house... and all my friends come here... and everybody knows my name.

Pat: Norm!

Mark: Mark.

Pat: Oh, right. What suits your fancy?

Mark: Draft, Pat.

   Pat: Sorry. The taps are down. The God - nyah! - blessed pumps are broken and of course everybody wants draft. It's a real pain in the gynh! - flowers.

Mark: Make it a bottle of Canterbury.

Pat: You got it.

Pat leaves.

    Mark: That's Pat the barkeep here. Good guy really, but he's got a slight disorder. He's got an inverted form of Tourette's Syndrome. It seems that whenever he's upset about something he feels compelled to say nice things about it. It's rather crippling at times, which only makes him more stressed. It can be really disconcerting to see him throw a temper tantrum. Imagine Marilyn Manson using Shakespeare's Sonnets as epithets.

Teak enters.

Teak: Hey Mark.

Mark: Hi Teak.

Teak: Guess what.

Mark: What?

Teak: No, no guess.

Mark: I don't know. You won a hundred bucks on the 6-49?

Teak: Nope. Well, guess again.

Mark: I don't know Teak. It could be any one of millions of things.

Teak: It starts with the letter 'T'.

Mark: I DON'T KNOW. What?

Teak: I quit my job.

Mark: That doesn't start with a 'T'.

Teak: Sure it does. 'Teak' - Me - I quit my job.

Mark: I don't know whether to be sorry or scared of you.

Teak: Oh, don't be sorry. It's a good thing. And you know what the best part is?

Teak waits for a response from Mark. Mark gives him a reprimanding look.

Teak: I fixed it so I can't ever go back.

Mark: How did you do that?

Teak: I put my bike lock on the outer door of the dispatch office, and then I ate the keys. Now I can't get back in.

Mark: Teak! What about the people inside?

Teak: Don't worry. They've got a vending machine.

Mark: Teak, why would you even want to fix it so you can't go back?

Teak: Temptation.

Mark: Excuse me?

Teak: Temptation. If I ever get the whim to go back to a lousy job like that, I can't.

Mark: But don't you need the money?

Teak: Yeah, but I've got a new job licking stamps.

Mark: Licking stamps.

Teak: Yeah, twenty-five dollars an hour, and it's Union.

Mark: Twenty-five dollars an hour for licking stamps?

Pat enters with order pad and Mark's beer.

Teak: Plus benefits.

Pat: Can I get you anything Teak?

Teak: Um... yeah. Do you make substitutions on your menu?

Pat: We can.

Teak: Great. I'll take the bacon and tomato sandwich.

Pat: Bacon and tomato.

Teak: Hold the tomato.

Pat: No tomato.

Teak: Add watermelon instead.

Pat: Watermelon instead.

Teak: And no bacon either.

Pat: No bacon either.

Teak: Frosted flakes and mustard.

Pat: Frosted flakes and mustard.

Mark: These aren't the droids you're looking for.

Pat: These aren't the droids we're looking for.

Mark: Move along.

Pat: Move... Hey! You quit your fu - nyrk! - Family Circus hi-jinx. Anything to drink?

Teak: Scotch on the rocks. Hold the ice.

Pat: Right. Oh yeah, if you see that roommate of yours, I've got a bone to pick with him.

Mark: How so?

Pat: That son of a - nygh! - foufou bunny never tips. He comes in here, makes demanding orders, wants the pre-stuffed burger with no green peppers. I have to cut the thing open and pick out every last ­gnyk! - beautifully chunky pepper. He's a high maintenance patron. Fifty, sixty dollar tabs and do I ever see a penny? No! He pays the bill and that's it. I don't want to see him in here anymore if he isn't going to tip. I swear, if he doesn't smarten up, I'm gonna wind up and give him a good - gnyh! - hug!

Mark: I'll have a word with him Pat.

Pat: Thanks.

Pat leaves.

Teak: Quick a pen! A pen! I need a pen!

Mark: Why what's going on?

Teak: I just got an idea for a perpetual motion device.

Mark: Uh, Teak...

Teak: I just have to figure out what I'll use for fuel.

Nigel enters.

Nigel:  Pat!  Vodka!  Straight up.  Make it a double.

Pat enters.

Pat: We don’t serve doubles.

Nigel: Then make it a triple.

Pat: You know I can't do that.

Nigel: Well, give me two singles in the same glass.

Pat: Alright.

Pat leaves. Nigel joins Mark and Teak.

Nigel: Citizens.

Mark: Hey Nige, what's eating you?

Nigel: What do you mean?

Mark: You never order a double.

Nigel: Sure I do. Pat just never gives them to me.

Pat enters with drink.

Pat: Ahh! Go soak your - kgnn! - porcelain caste cheeks, Sunshine.

Nigel: Poke me pansy. (Downs his shot.) I'll see you guys at home.

Nigel leaves.

­

Pat: Why, he didn't pay at all! Why that - yneg! - golden god of heavenly wonder! I oughta - gkak! - wine and dine him like a lady should!

Pat leaves.

Teak: What's with him?

Mark: I don't know.

Teak: Someone sure shoved his belly weasel on the wrong side of the snow muffin.

Mark: What?

Teak: You know... shoved his... y'know...?

Mark: I don't understand.

Teak: Didn't your family ever say that when you were a kid?

Mark: No.

Teak: Well we sure did where I came from.

Mark: Well, maybe I should have grown up there.

Teak: Oh no. They wouldn't like you there. You're not... pointy enough.

Mark: Pointy?

Scene.

BLACKOUT THREE:

         Blair: And now it's time for a WFUZ flash in the pan radio 23.5 second news update. Brought to you by the Smudgy Pigeon. On the lighter side of the news, the staff of a downtown courier company were mysteriously locked with a bike lock in their dispatch office overnight. Nobody was injured in spite of the poor circulation in the overnight heat. Also in the news this morning, a body was found in the city streets when a dog pulled the carcass out of an alleyway in front of Al's fruit market. Police are issuing a statement for the press later this afternoon. And now, back to the music....

"The Freshman" by The Verve Pipe fades in and out again.

SCENE THREE: HAPPYMART - MORNING

An entrance bell rings. Mark enters.

Buddy: Good morning my friend. Welcome to HappyMart.

Mark: Good morning Buddy. (To audience.) This is HappyMart, the neighbourhood convenience store, video rental outlet and Lance and Willow's Rice-o-teria. (Buddy is confused and can't figure out who Mark is talking to.) Lance and willow are latter-day hippies. They own the franchise. Pretty much all they eat is rice. They import it from around the globe, but only sell it to their closest friends. This is where we come for all our personal grocery needs, in spite of the three hundred percent mark up. But it's convenient, that's why they call it a convenience store.

Buddy: Is there anything I can help you with?

Mark: No thanks Buddy, I'm just getting breakfast and a newspaper.

Buddy: Ah, breakfast. Can I suggest Eggos? Aisle three.

Mark: No.

Buddy: McCainine Microwavable Minute Bacon? It's in the freezer case.

Mark: No, I think I'd rather have cereal.

Buddy: Cereal. Multi-grain Wheat-o-Bix?

Mark: No.

Buddy: Captain Sugar Mallows?

Mark: No.

Buddy: Choco-Frosted Margarine Balls.

Mark: Thanks, I'd rather have something healthier    Ah! Fruity Crunch Jell-O-Flakes! I love this stuff. It stays crunchy and when you add milk, it turns into a rainbow of colours.

Buddy: Will that be all?

Mark: No. (Lowering his voice conspiratorially.) Do Lance and Willow have any good stuff in?

Buddy: We just got a shipment of Thai long grain.

Mark: Is it any good?

Buddy: It's hydroponic man.

Mark: How much?

Buddy: Twenty bucks a gram.

Mark: Mmmm. Too rich for my blood. Got any of that basmati left?

Buddy: No, but we've got some Uncle Ben's in aisle two.

Mark: Never mind.

Buddy: Taking the day off again Mark?

Mark: Yeah, Teak and Nigel are at work. I've got the house all to myself.

          Buddy: Ah, house to yourself. You'll be wanting a magazine then. The new issue of 'Shaved Mound' just came in. It comes with a free, pull-out, twelve foot, glow in the dark, scratch 'n' sniff ceiling poster. It's the magazine for guys with acute Freudian problems.

Mark: No. Newspaper will be fine.

Buddy: Newspaper comes with a complimentary coffee.

Mark: No, no that's quite alright.

Buddy: It's free. It comes with the newspaper.

Mark: No, I'm really not a fan of the coffee here.

Buddy: Here take it. Take it.

Mark: No.

Buddy: It's fresh.

Mark: I don't care! I don't want any!

Buddy: Lance and Willow watch the security video tapes. If you don't take the coffee, I'm in big trouble.

Mark: No.

Buddy: Please?

Mark: No!

Buddy: Alright. Anything else?

Mark: Yeah, give me a copy of 'Good Will Hunting.'

Buddy: Alright. Can I see your video card?

Mark: There you go.

          Buddy: And your driver's license? And a major credit card. Medicare card, birth certificate, citizenship card, bank card, Fitness World membership card, business card, Rocket Richard rookie card...

Mark: Hey! Is there a problem here?

Buddy: Yes, your membership has expired.

Mark: Expired? But it's a lifetime membership.

Buddy: Yes I guess I'll have to rectify that (He pulls out a shot gun. Mark grabs his stuff and runs from the store.) Have a nice day!

Scene.

BLACKOUT FOUR:

    I Don't Like Mondays by the Boomtown Rats fades in as it is coming to an end. Blair Faire sings the last few words, mocking the plaintiveness of Bob Geldof's vocal.

Blair: …the…whole…day…down. Yeah. This is Blair Faire on the air and that was the Boomtown Rats with “I Don't Like Mondays." Another one from the 'Who cares where they are now file.' This is WFUZ Flash in the Pan Radio. Now let's go back to 1985 with this little ditty from Boys Don't Cry, and believe you, me, “I Want to be a Cowboy…”

"I Want to be a Cowboy" by Boys Don't Cry fades in and out again.

SCENE FOUR:

NO. 13 CECELIA BLVD. - MORNING

Mark comes home.

Mark: It's such a good feeling - to know you're alive. It's such a happy feeling - when you're growing inside. And when you wake up ready to say, 'I think I'll have a snappy new day.' (Mark has taken off his shoes, and put on a cardigan and slippers.) Ahh... there's nothing like a day to yourself. Kick back, relax and do absolutely nothing, with no fear of interruption from keys scraping in the lock.

Phone rings.

Mark: Hello?

Voice on Phone: Hello, is this 49 avenue?

Mark: What?

Voice on Phone: Is this 49 avenue?

Mark: Uh, no. You must have a wrong number.

Voice on Phone: Thank you.

Mark hangs up and sits back. There is a knock on the door.

Mark: Who could that be? Come in!

Postman enters.

Mark: Ah! It's the Postman. Hello Postman.

Postman: Hello. Is this No. 13 Cecelia Blvd?

Mark: It most certainly is.

Postman: As in... Cecelia, you're breaking my heart...

Mark: Yes, that's right.

Postman: ...you're shaking my confidence daily...

Mark: You can stop now.

Postman: ...Oh Cecelia, I'm down on my knees, I'm begging you please to come home...

Mark: I've heard the song before.

Postman: Ho-ho-home.

Postman & Mark: ...Making love in the afternoon with Cecelia up in my bedroom. Making love. I get up to wash my face, when I come back to bed someone's taken my place....

Mark: (Sighs.) That's very clever.

Postman: I've got a parcel here for Teak... Tninen... Fdornen... uh... um, Grommen?

Mark: Phlegming?

         Postman: Yeah. Just sign right here. (Mark does.) It's right outside the door. (Leaving.) Lie-la lie. Lie-la lie lie lie la-lie. Lie-la lie.

Mark: (Following.) Thank you!

Postman: Have a nice day!

    They leave and a mysterious box enters of it's own volition. Mark enters, a bit confused. He looks at the box and tries to pick it up. It shrieks and leaps away from him. It then growls and begins to chase Mark. The phone rings. Mark answers it.

Mark: Hello?

Voice on Phone: Hello, is this 49 avenue?

The parcel lurches at Mark. Mark's attention is more on the parcel than the phone.

Mark: No. No this is not 49th avenue.

Voice on Phone: Are you sure?

Mark: Yes I am sure.

The box continues lurching, much to Mark's dismay.

Voice on Phone: So this is a wrong number?

Lurch, lurch. The parcel starts stalking Mark.

Mark: Well, it's not a correct number is it?

Voice on Phone: Uh... Do you know what is....

The box is advancing on Mark.

Mark: Look I gotta go. (Hangs up.) Ole! (Mark herds the box into Teak's room.) Okay. (He sits.) Milk... Juice... Cereal....

Knock at the door.

Mark: What now? Come in!

There is a strange small person at the door.

Luka: Hello. My name is Luka. I live on the second floor. I live upstairs from you. I guess you never....

Mark kicks him out - literally.

Mark: Go away.

Phone rings.

Mark: Hello!!

Voice on Phone: Is this 49 avenue?

Mark: No this is not 49 avenue!

Voice on Phone: Oh, Okay. One moment please.

Pause.

Second Voice on Phone: Hello is this 49 avenue? I am looking for...

Mark: No this is not 49th aven...

Unseen by Mark, Mr. Bludfluke enters.

Second Voice on Phone: No. You do not talk. You do not talk when I am talking. When I am talking, you do not talk, you listen. Attend to me! Attend to me!

Mark: Okay, I'm sorry.

Second Voice on Phone: I'm not worrying. Just one moment.

Mark: What? Do they travel in packs?

Pause. Mr. Bludfluke has a swig of orange juice, which he immediately regurgitates back into it's container.

Third Voice on Phone: Hello?

Mark: Yes, I'm still here. Same wrong number.

Third voice on Phone: Is this 49 avenue?

Mr. Bludfluke stuffs a handful of Jell-O-Flakes into his mouth and starts masticating.

Mark: No. No this isn't 49th avenue. This is Cecelia Blvd. Is there a specific part of 49th avenue you wish to speak to? The crosswalk? A manhole cover maybe? Or is there actually a specific house?

Third Voice on Phone: So this isn't 49 avenue?

Mr. Bludfluke tries to wash the Jell-O-Flakes down with a mouthful of milk, but it too ends up getting returned to it's container.

    Mark: No it isn't! What have I been telling you people? I mean what are you doing? Randomly phoning numbers hoping that you will stumble upon somebody who lives on 49th avenue? No! How foolish of me. (Mr. Bludfluke has found the remote control. He is fascinated by it, continuously turning the TV on and off.) You're phoning my number over and over, hoping that magically it will suddenly change to 49th avenue. But would that help you? What if this was 49th avenue? Okay, okay! This is 49th avenue. Now what do you want?

Third Voice on Phone: Oh, sorry wrong number.

Dial tone. Mark hangs up. Mr. Bludfluke dives behind the couch. Mark returns to his breakfast. He picks up the opened OJ.

Mark: What the hell?

    Mr. Bludfluke's hand appears over the couch. He turns the TV on. Mark is confused. Mr. Bludfluke turns the TV off. Mark is weirded out.

Mark: Teak!? Nigel? …Dale?

    Mark returns to his cereal and pours a bowl. Mr. Bludfluke turns the TV on again. Mark gets up. He walks to the TV. Mr. Bludfluke watches him. Mark whacks the TV. As he does, Mr. Bludfluke turns it off. The phone rings. Mr. Bludfluke escapes out the door. Mark turns to the phone. He stops himself. He lets the phone ring. The phone rings. Mark unfolds the paper and reads it as he pours his milk. The phone continues to ring. Mark has some cereal. The phone keeps ringing. Mark continues eating. The phone rings faster. Mark looks at the phone confused. The phone rings some more. Mark looks for the remote control. The phone rings more insistently.

Mark: Alright! I give up. Where's the remote control?

The phone rings more. Mark gives up. He answers the phone with exaggerated calm.

Mark: Hello?

Click and dial tone. Mark approximately loses his sanity. He hangs up.

Mark: Why can't I just have some peace and quiet?

Knock at the door.

Mark: This had better be important. Come in! (Enter Constable Chisholm.) What is it!? (As he realizes who he has just hollered at, he switches from AC to DC.) Ah, Constable Chisholm, the local beat cop who will play a crucial part in the play right at the climax. What can I do for you today?

          Constable Chisholm: Oh I just came by to get introduced to the plot before I'm actually needed. So as to reduce the cheesy nature of my deus ex machina like insertion later in the show.

Mark: Well, you must have some real excuse to be here rather than simply this self-aware intrusion into the action of the play.

Constable Chisholm: As a matter of fact I do. I'm looking for a person named Luka.

Mark: Ah, he lives on the second floor.

Constable Chisholm: He lives upstairs from you?

Mark: Yes.

Constable Chisholm: I think I've seen him before. If you hear something late at night....

Mark: Some kind of trouble, some kind of fight?

Constable Chisholm: Just don't ask me what it was.

Mark: Just don't ask you what it was.

Constable Chisholm: Thanks son.

Mark: You are my father!? You son of a bitch! You've got a lot of nerve coming back here after what you pulled! Seventeen years and you think you can just walk right back into my life....

Constable Chisholm shuts Mark up by threatening him with his billy club.

Constable Chisholm: No no no - 'Son' in that context is simply an affectionate nickname, not a declaration of relationship.

Mark: Right.

Constable Chisholm: Right. I'm sorry.

Mark: Bye.

Constable Chisholm: Bye.

Constable Chisholm exits. The phone rings. Mark answers in total despair.

Mark: Hello?

Voice on Phone: Is this 49 avenue?

    Mark: Fuck! No, this isn't Fucking 49th FucKinG avenue. Don't FucKinG even FuCKinG think of FuCKiNG phoning the FUCK back! I FUCKING SweaR, I'LL FUCKING KiLL You WiTHiN A FUCKING InCH of YoUR FUCKING WORthLESS FUCKING LIFE YOU FUCKING FUCK! FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK! …Hello?  (Dial tone. He hangs up.) Alright, video. To hell with the remote control - I'm no lazy ass couch potato. I'm not above a little physical activity! (Mark puts in the video.) Alright. Robin Williams - Oscar winner, my hero. I've been wanting to see this since it came out.

He sits as the video begins.

Video: VideOpensore presents 'Adventures in Canadian Trout Fishing' with your host Noddy Midriff.  Hey there Noddy. Hey. Sure is a nice day for fishing out here on Lake Brackettybott.... (It continues spouting similarly inane dialogue.)

         Mark: What? Why that lousy little punk! I'm gonna take this right back right now and (He has gone to the VCR and is looking at it confused.) What? Where's the eject button? What kind of stupid VCR doesn't have an eject button? There's one on the remote control. I DON'T HAVE THE REMOTE CONTROL!

Phone rings.

Mark: Look, if you're calling for 49th avenue, you had better just hang up right now 'cause you don't want to hear what I have to say to you.

Zeffie: Glm. Uh, is Gdh, Teak there? Gdrn.

Mark: No, no. He's at work.

Zeffie: Glm. will you let me know Glk, when he gets in?

Dial tone. Mark hangs up. Teak walks in. Mark hollers directly at the phone.

Mark: He's home! He's home!

Teak: Ah!  Zeffie called.

Mark: Why are you home so early?

Teak: I got fired. I've been diagnosed as having Ethyl's Disorder. Apparently I lack the critical enzyme in my saliva which activates stamp glue. So they fired me! So, I'm walking down the street with Zeffie talking about it and suddenly he turns to me and says, "The chickens are back, I can feel them." So I turned. And there they were. We ran, and right outside The Smudgy Pigeon, they ran into the light of the neon sign and Bang! - they melted! Zeffie says to me, "Do you remember what we did last time this happened?" I shook my head. He said, "Neither do I." (Teak seems to think this is pretty significant and deep.)

Mark: Ah. A package came for you today.

Teak: You didn't touch it did you?

Mark: Yeah.

Teak: Excuse me.

    Teak exits to his room hurriedly. Mark sits down with the newspaper. There are screams and gunshots heard in Teak's room. Teak returns.

Teak: Damn. Now I have to order another one.

He pulls out a form and begins to fill it out.

Mark: Was it dangerous?

Teak: Only to people.

Mark: Oh. Good.

Mark returns to his paper. Teak tries to lick his stamp.

Mark: Hey Teak, look at this.

Teak: Paper.

Mark: Yes, but look at this.

Teak: Newspaper.

Mark: Would you just read this!

Teak: Could you lick this for me?

Mark: Do you remember how Nigel's boss was killed last week?

Teak: Yeah.

Mark: Well listen to this. "In a strange set of circumstances, an executive partner of Paul Behrir and Sons Advertising has been found murdered. This is the second killing of a member of Behrir and Sons staff this week. Police refuse to speculate if the crimes may be related."

Teak: Whoa! Nigel had better watch out.

Mark: Yeah, he picked a dangerous place to work. But wait, it continues.... Police have been unable to determine the cause of death, but autopsies show that both victims had exceptionally high citric acid content in their bloodstreams. The only evidence was a single sunglass lens found at the scene."

Teak: Weird.

Mark: Yeah.

Nigel walks in wearing broken sunglasses. (One lens is missing.)

Nigel: Citizens.

Mark: Nigel, we were just reading about... Beyahhh!!!

Nigel: What's with you?

Teak: Mark's had one of his days.

Nigel: Ah.

Teak: People sure are dropping off like flies at your office, huh?

Nigel: Yeah, just like flies, baking in the sun. Hey, 'Canadian Trout Fishing…'

Mark: Teak… Teak… (He can hardly speak, he's so scared.)

Teak: Are you losing your voice? You shouldn't yell at the phone so much.

Nigel: Hey, were there any calls for me?

Teak: I don't know. I was being chased by chickens.

Nigel: Ah. Mark? Any calls for me?

Mark: For - four - forty-ninth avenue....

Nigel: I see.

    Nigel puts down his glasses and picks up the paper. He's ambivalent about the headline. Mark grabs the sunglasses and motions to Teak, pointing at the broken lens.

Teak: Those are Nigel's. (Mark shakes his head and points again.) Yes they are. (Mark shakes his head again.) Yes they are! (Mark continues to indicate 'no'.) YES THEY ARE!

Nigel: Ahem.

Mark: We're just... going to play charades.

Teak: Cool!

Nigel: Alright. (Returns to paper.)

Mark points at glasses.

Teak: 'My eyes are blind I cannot see?'

Mark shakes his head. He motions as if hanging himself by a rope.

­Teak: 'Hang 'em High!'

Mark refuses again. He slashes his throat with his finger.

Teak: 'I cut myself shaving?'

Mark shakes head and pretends to shoot himself in the temple with his finger.

Teak: 'Bang bang, the British are coming!'

Mark is getting very frustrated. He begins to strangle himself with his hands.

Teak: 'MY BALACLAVA IS ON FIRE!'

Nigel: Excuse me, I'm trying to read the paper!

    Mark looks at Nigel. He puts the glasses on Nigel. He looks from Nigel to Teak. Back to Nigel, and again to Teak. He is desperately trying to telepathically tell Teak what he is driving at.

Teak: (Clues in.) AAAAAAH! I have to do the dishes!

Mark: I have to help Teak.

The pair run into the kitchen. It takes them all of about four seconds to do the dishes. (SFX) They run out of the kitchen and run out the door.

Teak: Bye.

Mark: Bye.

Nigel: Uh, bye.

Nigel is bewildered at his roommates industriousness. He checks in the kitchen.

Nigel: Hey. Where'd that sink come from?

Scene.

BLACKOUT FIVE:

"Zombie" by The Cranberries fades in. It fades out.

         Blair: A little Zombie going out to you on this steamy afternoon. Outside the WFUZ studios there's an ugly yellow-grey smog cloud. So if you can, hop on your bike and leave the 'Beamer' at home. Update on the body found this morning. Police have connected it to the slaying last week of a 39 year old man. All names are being withheld, but both victims were employed at the same office. And autopsies on the bodies reveal that both had exceptionally high citric acid content in their bloodstream. Police have nicknamed the culprit "The Scurvy Slayer." Now back to WFUZ flash in the pan radio.

"Criminal Mind" by Gowan fades in and out again.

SCENE FIVE:

THE SMUDGY PIGEON - AFTERNOON

    Mark and Teak are in the pigeon obviously drinking themselves silly as fast as they can. Pat enters and picks up their empty beer bottles.

Mark and Teak: Umm! (Pat replaces them with full bottles.) Yeah.

Pat leaves.

Teak: Holy holy, man!

Mark: Yeah, shit.

Teak: Nigel's... killing people.

Mark: Yeah… Well, wait! We don't know that for sure.

Teak: But his glasses…

Mark: Maybe he dropped them.

Teak: While struggling with a victim.

    Mark: OR getting on the bus, or running up a flight of stairs, or bending down to pick up a dime. It could have happened a thousand different ways.

Teak: But all of the victims are from his office.

Mark: Coincidence.

Teak: Nigel wanted all their jobs.

Mark: Yes, alright, but it's all circumstantial. We don't KNOW that Nigel is killing people. I mean he was always such a nice quiet boy who kept to himself.

Teak: No he wasn't.

Mark: Oh yeah. Shit. We better find out.

Teak: We could ask him.

Mark: Go right ahead.

Teak: You go ahead.

Mark: It was your idea.

Teak: He's your friend.

Mark: He's your roommate.

Teak: He's your roommate too!

Mark: He eats your fish!

Teak: You hit him in the head with the hamster!

Mark: Flip for it!

Teak: Call it.

Mark: Heads.

Teak flips a coin. He catches it, looks at it and deliberately drops it.

Teak: Ooops! Call it.

Mark: Heads.

Teak tosses the coin into the air. It doesn't flip. He catches it, and looks at it.

Teak: It didn't actually flip. (Mark sighs.) Call it.

Mark: Heads!

­Teak flips the coin. Catches it, looks at it and over reacts to some unseen, bogus influence.

Teak: Whoa! Did you feel that?

Mark: Give me that! Okay. Now, no matter how it flips, or how it lands, the loser has to confront Nigel. Call it…

Teak: Tails! Ha!

Mark flips coin and looks at it.

Mark: Best two out of three?

Teak: No way! You said…

Mark: Alright…

Nigel enters.

Nigel: Citizens....

Teak and Mark: Hi Nige.

          Nigel: You guys left the house in such a hurry, I didn't know where to find you. But then I thought... Smudgy Pigeon. Oh hey, good job on the dishes. PAT! VODKA! MAKE IT A DOUBLE!

Pat enters, furious.

­Pat: Forget it Nigel.  I've about had it with you. You haven't tipped me once in the past three years you've been coming here, you - nkeg! - Teddy bear!

Mark: Pat, give him the double.

Pat: Not a chance. I don't even want you in here. If you aren't going to cough up, you can walk. I don't want to see you in here again.  Kapish - gnek! - Prince of my heart!?

Mark: Pat…

Pat: Forget it. He can put it up out front, or he can leave.

Mark: Here, here's his tip.

Nigel: Hey! Don't tip him for me.

Mark: Pat give me the money.

Pat: No way, you tipped me. It's mine.

Mark: I tipped for him, not me. Him. It was just my money. His tip.

Nigel: It wasn't my tip. I don't tip.

Mark: You see? It wasn't a tip. Give it back!

Pat: You don't tip?

Nigel: I don't believe in tipping.

Pat: You don't believe in tipping?

Mark: You know what these guys make? They make shit.

Nigel: Don't give me that. He don't make enough, he can quit.

Pat: You don't care about counting on your tips to live?

          Nigel: Jesus Christ. I mean you aren't starving to death. You make minimum wage. I used to make minimum wage, and when I did I wasn't lucky enough to have a job society deemed tip worthy.

Mark: You don't have any idea what you are talking about. These people bust their ass. This is a tough job.

          Nigel: So's working at McDonald's. But you don't feel the need to tip them. Why not? They're serving you food. But no, society says don't tip these guys over here, but tip these guy's here. That's ­bullshit.

Mark: Pat please. Get him his drink.

Pat: No.

Mark: Trust me, it's for your own good.

Pat: Not until I see a tip.

Mark: I already tipped you.

Pat: Right. Right.

Pat exits.

Teak: Mark…

Mark: Alright! Alright! I'm all over it. Nigel?

Nigel: Yeah?

Mark: What happened to your glasses?

Nigel: Broke.

Mark: Yes, but how did they break?

Nigel: They fell off. Alright?

Mark: I see... um...

Nigel: What? Is there some kind of problem here?

Mark: No... Yes... Well... I don't know.

Nigel: You sound confused.

Mark: I am. I just... well, we... we were...

Nigel: Yes?

Mark: You haven't done anything rash lately, have you?

Nigel: Like what?

Teak: Mark, just ask him if he did it.

Nigel: DID WHAT!

Mark: Well, there's been a lot of trouble around your office lately...?

Nigel: Ahhh... I see. Yes. I did.

Mark & Teak: You did!?

Nigel: Yes.

Mark: Well, how can you be so blase about it?

Nigel: Blase? I'm not blase. As a matter of fact I'm pretty damned happy with myself.

Mark: Happy with yourself!?

          Nigel: Yes! I realized something. I realized that there are two kinds of people in this world, those who go out and get what they want, and those who don't. Those who go out and get things go places in life, those who don't... don't!

Mark: So you started killing people.

         Nigel: Not without reason. I wanted their jobs, they were standing on my path to success, so I eliminated them. Up until last week, I was someone who waited for life to come to him. I used to be just like you.

Mark: ME!? Hey, I'm in school. What about Teak? He's unemployed and couldn't hold down a job if he tried.

Teak: Hey!

Nigel: But he DOES try!

Teak: I try.

Nigel: You, you hide behind the veil of school...

Teak: Veil of school.

Nigel: Working on bachelor of fuck all number what?

Teak: What?

Nigel: Four?

Teak: Four?

Mark: Three!

Nigel: I took charge of my life. I saw something I wanted and I took it.

Teak: Took it.

Nigel: Can you say the same? Aren't you proud of me?

Teak: I'm proud of you!

Mark: Will you shut up?

Teak: Shutting up.

Mark: Proud of you? How can I be proud of you? You're a cold-blooded killer.

Nigel: I'm a new man!

Mark: That's great. I really love the new you. I'm really glad you searched your soul and found yourself. Tony Robbins would be so proud. You just see something you want and you take it. Take, take, take. That's all you ever do. Take, take, take. Do you see anything else you want? Here, want Teak's beer? Take it!

Mark passes Teak's beer to Nigel.

Teak: Hey!

Teak takes Mark's beer.

Nigel: That's the idea!

Mark: Oh for Christ's sake.

Teak: How do you do it?

Nigel: Ever get lemon juice in a cut?

Teak: Ouch, yeah, that happened to my uncle once.

Nigel: Imagine getting it injected straight into your veins. Then, when it gets to your heart…

Mark: That's obscene.

Nigel: It leaves no obvious trace.

Mark: It's sadistic.

Nigel: (With a grand gesture.) I'd call it brilliant!

    They all freeze like at the end of a television episode. After a moment, Pat enters. He picks up Teak's empty beer. He suddenly realizes that nobody else is moving. He is confused. He pokes Teak. No response. He goes to Nigel and tries to take his beer. It is firmly set in Nigel's hand. He gives up and spits in the bottle before turning to leave. He notices something in Nigel's breast pocket. He reaches in and pulls out a twenty dollar bill. He smiles, pockets it and leaves.

Scene.

BLACKOUT SIX:

          Blair: The 235th caller to correctly tell me: From what movie comes the quote, “What do you want to do with your life?" will win tickets to next Saturday's opening of the Twisted Sister Reunion Tour! So now let's listen to this…

"We're Not Gonna Take It" by Twisted Sister fades in and out again.

­SCENE SIX:

NO. 13 CECELIA BLVD. - EVENING

    Mark is watching X-Files. Mr. Bludfluke enters with the remote control and changes the channel. Mark looks at him. Mr. Bludfluke laughs and leaves. Mark sighs as if this has happened a hundred times within the past day. Which it has.

Mark: He's been so happy since he got the remote control I just don't have the heart to take it away from him. I just wish he'd change it to something other than the Shopping Network.

Teak looks frantically out of his room.

Teak: Mark! Mark!"

Mark: What? What is it Teak?

Teak: You didn't just see me leave here, did you?

Mark: Mmmmm, no?

Teak: Good. Would you let me know if you do?

Mark: Uh, yeah, sure.

Teak: Thanks.

Teak renters his room.

Mark: Hey! Spray on hair! I've heard about this stuff. I wonder if Nige'd like some for his Birthday? And it sure would improve my self-esteem at the beach.

Teak, dressed in entirely different clothing enters from outside.

Teak: Hi.

Mark: Uh, Hi Teak????

    Teak enters his room. There is a scream. His door opens. The new Teak comes out a foot or so with a pair of arms wearing his original shirt strangling him. They drag him back inside. Pause. Teak re-enters (from bedroom) and sits.

Mark: What was all that about?

Teak: What was what?

Nigel enters.

Teak: Hey Nige. Say, did you get that job you killed for?

Mark swats him.

          Nigel: No. I did not get the job. I go to all the trouble of eliminating someone who's job I want and then someone else gets the promotion. That's fine for them, but what about me? I get nothing, after all that work and trouble. Maybe if I had someone else kill somebody for me, then I'd get the promotion. Hell, I'd even pay somebody for the service, if it worked. Hey! That's a great idea! Why don't I start killing people for other people who want their jobs? I could start my own job placement agency. And furthermore, it's justice. An unfair number of young adults are saddled with dead-end nowhere jobs. Why? Because all of the good jobs have been taken by people only a few years older than them, who are too young to die any time soon. And by the time they do, those jobs will be better filled by younger, more vital applicants. So this is a service to society, by forcing openings in the job market for people who need them now. Instead of allowing it to remain two walls of opportunity, one too soon and one too late - evening out the imbalance. Giving us an opportunity to find a worthwhile niche in society rather than being crushed between the gears of an over-employed bourgeois. This employment agency is more than a job, it is a duty, a mission, a campaign, a CRUSADE!!!! AAAAh ha ha hah ha !

Nigel exits. Teak and Mark look at each other stunned. Teak's attention is caught by the TV.

Teak: Hey look! Pewter Elvis statues!

Mark: Cool!

Scene.

          NOTE: If the need is felt to divide the play into two acts, this would be the place to do it. I personally feel that it works best as a long one act.

BLACK OUT SEVEN:

          Blair: WFUZ Flash in the Pan Radio! Where all the artists who only had one crack at fame, still get air time. Going into five in a row, from the class of '86, who remembers this Flash in the Pan?

“Spirit in the Sky” by Dr. and the Medics fades in and out again.

SCENE SEVEN:

THE STREET - NIGHT

    There is the sound of a struggle. A day-planner flies through the air, landing in a pool of light under a street lamp. A man in a business suit stumbles out of the darkness.

Victim: Who are you?

Nigel steps into the pool of light.

Nigel: I'm your worst nightmare.

Victim: What do you want from me?

Nigel: Shut-up!

Victim: Please don't hurt me.

Nigel: (Using a syringe to suck the juice out of a lemon.) Don't worry, this isn't going to hurt…

Victim: Thank God.

Nigel: …For long.

Victim: Oh God! Look, I've got money… Keys to my Audi, My… (Looks at day-planner.) Uh! (Looks away desperately trying to draw Nigel's attention away from the book.)

          Nigel: Ah! Day-planner. Daily tool of yuppie oppressors everywhere. Let's see what we have here. Hmmm. Tuesday. Take Cyril to Ace Dentura - Pet Dentist to fit him for 'Kitty Caps.' (Tears out page. Victim is clearly distressed.) Wednesday. Take the Audi to the brake specialist. Hmp. (Tears out page.) Today, Thursday! Oh.

          It appears you missed something here  Career planning with the Scurvy Slayer!

Victim: Don't you write in there!

Nigel: Shut-up. You might get this back.

Victim: I'll do anything you say.

Nigel: Roll up your pant leg.

Victim: (Tries.) I can't.

Nigel: Pull them down then. (Victim looks confused. Nigel threatens to pull out another page.) Pull 'em down! Good. Now rollover. Roll over!

          Victim: (Rolling over.) I haven't done this since college. (Nigel swabs his calf.) Hey that doesn't feel as bad as' I... (Nigel slams the needle into his leg.) ARRRRG!

Nigel: Hold still! Hold still!

Victim: What is that?

Nigel: Lemon juice.

Victim: Lemon? Egads! You're the Scurvy Slayer!

Nigel: Didn't I just say that? You ought to read your day-planner. Check Thursday!

Victim: Please don't kill me!

Nigel: Too late, you're already dead.

Victim: Oh God. Everything you say… is a cliche! I can't take it! (The victim tries to run.)

          Nigel: The pain ought to hit right about... Now! Followed by a ticklish feeling in your thigh. Then you lose all control of your leg. As the spasms subside, the lemon juice reaches your groin causing at first a feeling of pleasure, then impotence and agony. Luckily, the lemon juice then makes you lose all feeling in your lower body.

Victim: Dear Jesus, I can't feel my legs! (Nigel nudges him.) Oh shit! (He Falls.)

          Nigel: Then the lemon juice enters your stomach causing at first acute hiccoughs. Then nausea and convulsions. It all stops for one brief moment, just long enough to ask one final question.

Victim: Why?

Nigel: Well, most of my victims have one last request.

Victim: No, I mean why are you doing this to me?

Nigel: Oh. Sorry to waste your last moments like that.

Victim: ARRRKGH!

Nigel: The calm before the storm has ended. The lemon juice has entered your heart. It will all be over in just a moment.

Victim: ...rosebud...

(Dies. )

          Nigel: What the hell did he mean by that? Hmp. Ah well let's get you out of here. (He lifts the body but slips and falls in an obscene position.) AAAAAAH! Shit. Okay, get off. (He pushes the body away. It falls back on him. This continues.) Get off. Get off! GET OFF!

Someone enters just short of the light. Nigel hears him.

          Nigel: Oh, God! Uh... why of course I love you dear! Heh, heh, uh here give me a kiss. (He pulls the corpse's lips to his just as Teak steps into the light.)

Teak: Nigel!

Nigel: Teak! Oh thank God it's you.

Teak: Oh Nigel! Oh man, I'm really sorry....

Nigel: No, no Teak this isn't what it looks like.

Teak: Look Nige…

Nigel: (Overlapping.) Teak, Teak! Oh God.

Teak: If you're in the closet, that's cool and everything. But hey, (Pulls out a condom.) be safe man!

Nigel: Teak, I'm not gay. This man is dead.

Teak: Dead?

Nigel: Yes.

Teak: That's really sick!

Nigel: No! Teak, look. Listen. He's the manager at 'The Warhol Boutique. I just got a client in commercial art school.

Teak: Oh! You're working!

Nigel: YES! (Sighs.)

Teak: Sorry, didn't mean to disturb you. See you at home.

Nigel: Teak. Teak! TEAK!

Teak: Hm?

          Nigel: Will you help me get him off of me? I've got a lot of work to do tonight. I have to kill Blair Faire from WFUZ before the morning show.

Teak: Cool, I love his stuff!

They struggle with the body, ultimately ending up with Nigel in yet another obscene (but this time mobile) position.

Teak: Are you sure you aren't gay?

Nigel: Just go before his bowels loosen!

They exit.

Scene.

BLACKOUT EIGHT:

Sky: Welcome to the brand-new morning show. I'm your host Sky Faltzburg. Here's the Crew. Hey guys!

Crew: Woo woo! Yeah! Woo!

Sky: Ahh, it's a wonderful Saturday morning. How's the weather? Let's ask Captain Cumulo Nimbus, the Weather Pirate.

Weather Pirate: Arrr!

Polly: Caw! Whew-hoo!

Weather Pirate: Arr, shut-up Polly. It's going to be a hot day today Sky. Arrr.

Sky: A hot day again! Well, what are we gonna do guys?

Paddy: We could go to the baseball game.

Sky: Oooh, it's Paddy the Sports Leprechaun. What if it's too hot out to play?

Paddy: We could still have hot dogs and beer!

Crew: Woo-hoo!

Sky: How right you are paddy.

Mr. Sneed: Uh, Sky could you read this please?

Sky: Oh my!  It's Mr. Sneed the station manager. Now what have we here?  Oh, I see. Um, WFUZ Radio would like to extend our deepest sympathy to the family of Blair Faire. He was a good co-worker, loving husband, and great DJ for Flash in the Pan Radio. In his honour, we would like to break format for a moment and play one of Blair's favourite songs. And so, going out to the man who died so I could have his job...

Crew: Woo-hoo!

Sky: Thanks guys. Here's some VanHalen, 'cause Blair would have wanted it that way.

SCENE EIGHT: NO. 13 CECELIA BLVD. - MORNING

   "Jump" by VanHalen is plays. Mark is eating a banana. He begins to tap his toe to the music. He then begins to sing, using the banana as a microphone. When the chorus comes, Teak bursts in from his bedroom using a broom as a guitar. They sing and dance and airband together until the next chorus. Nigel walks in. The guitar solo starts. They don't notice Nigel as they play air guitar. He watches them act like idiots. He shakes his head and turns off the radio. Mark leaps to his feet. Teak continues, oblivious to the lack of music.

Nigel: Citizens. (He kicks Teak, who jumps to his feet.) What’s up?

Teak: We were just... jumping.

Nigel: Aren't we all. You wouldn't believe the night I just had. I must have filled a dozen contracts by this morning.

Teak: Work is good?

Nigel: Too good. I'm completely bogged down. And then I get jobs like the last one this morning.

Mark: Do we have to hear this?

Teak: What happened?

          Nigel: I got a client who was a fry cook at McDonald's so I had to dispose of his manager. Now you wouldn't have believed this guy if you saw him. He must have been scarfing down all of the reject burgers.

Mark: They reject burgers?

Nigel: He must have weighed like 380 pounds.

Teak: 380 pounds. Let's see, that's... 170 kilograms... or... 18 and one-half shmagmargers!

Mark: Shmagmargers?

Nigel: Look! Do you want to hear this or don't you?

Mark: No.

Teak: (Simultaneously.) Yes.

Nigel: Well I couldn't move him let alone lift him. So, I had to find a way to break the body into carryable pieces.

Mark: Oh God.

Teak: How did you do that?

Mark: Spare me the details.

Nigel: I ran him over about sixty times in my new car.

Mark: Wait a second. When did you get a new car?

Nigel: I got a new Audi last week. I told you business was going good. As a matter of fact, I'm going to have to expand.

Teak: How are you going to do that?

Nigel: I put an advertisement in the newspaper.

Mark: An Ad in the paper? What does it say? Kill for cash? Death for dollars? Murder for money? You'll make a killing when you toss your basic human morals to the wind?

Nigel: No. (Pulls out classifieds.) Here Teak, why don't you read it out.

Teak: (Nigel mouths the words proudly.) “Are you between the ages of 19 and 30 and not earning at least 300 dollars a day? Realize your full potential. Call me now!"

Nigel: Great huh? I just can't figure out why I haven't got any response.

Teak: Sounds like telemarketing.

Nigel: Give me that! I… Wait! It doesn't matter. I just realized something. I've got all the manpower I need right here.

Mark: Oh no. No. No!

Nigel: What about you Teak? You're out of a job.

Teak: I don't know Nige. You mean killing people?

Nigel: Well, no. Not killing people. Liberating.

Teak: Liberating.

Nigel: Come on, it's for a good cause.

Mark: Teak don't do it.

Nigel: Competitive wages. Tax free.

Teak: Hmmm.

Mark: Teak, think about it. Think about what you're getting yourself into.

Teak: No.

Nigel: No!?

Mark: You're doing the right thing Teak.

­Teak: I won't do it. I can't get involved.

Nigel: Teak, you already are involved.

Teak: What?

Nigel: Last week when you helped me move that body.

Mark: You helped him!?

Teak: Just a little.

Nigel: You're already in too deep Teak. You might as well make a little profit while you can.

Mark: I can't believe I'm listening to this.

          Nigel: Once more Nigel and Teak are dear friends, once more. To close the wall up with those yuppie dead. In truth there's nothing so becomes a man as a modest job and gainful utility. And when the cries of the unemployed blow in our ears, then we shall imitate the action of the tiger. Thinning the herd and replacing unfair nature with hard favoured occasion. Strike the iron while it's hot. Seize your chance and make hay while the sun doth shine. You are without job and I in need of aide. What could more nobly suit a man than to fight along side his brethren 'gainst a common foe. So, band with me upon the usurpers and I shall line your pockets with wealth to spare. At my arm you shall have the knowledge in your soul that you have served a purpose higher than any seraph army. So what say you? I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, straining upon the start. So follow your instinct and upon this charge cry "God for Scurvy, Nigel and his war!!!"

Teak: I'm in!

Nigel: Away!

Nigel and Teak rush out.

Teak: Kill!  Kill!  Kill!

Nigel: From Hell's heart I stab at thee!

Mark: Help?

Scene.

SCENE NINE: EVERYWHERE - ALL OF THE TIME

    As "Eye of the Tiger" by Survivor plays, we watch Nigel and Teak kill several generic professionals. (Possibly The Village People.) In between each killing we see a newspaper headline spinning towards us like in cheesy movie sequences. These headlines in order read: "Scurvy Strikes City!", "Fourth Week of Terror!" and "Qh the humanity! 'Scurvy' slays 50th." At the end, Nigel and Teak dance together as money rains from the sky.

Scene.

SCENE TEN: No. 13 CECELIA BLVD. - MORNING

Mark enters the apartment. Nigel and Teak are dancing together among piles of money on the floor.

Mark: What the hell is going on here? What's all this money doing on the floor? It's a bloody mess!

Teak: Too busy.

Nigel: We haven't had time to clean up.

Mark: Is it just me, or is that just a little ironic? Look, mid-terms are coming up, both my roommates are homicidal maniacs…

Nigel: That's an exaggeration.

Teak: Nigel's a homicidal maniac, I'm just hired help.

Nigel: We're businessmen.

Mark: (Grabbing broom. Threatening with it.) Look! Point is I'm too stressed out without having to clean up after the two of you.

Teak: Be careful with that broom Mark.

Mark: What? Are you afraid of a little broom Teak?

Teak: Well, sort of.

Mark: Why?

Teak: My uncle got hit with a broom once. It made him impotent.

Mark: No way?

Teak: Yeah.

Mark: That's bunk.

Teak: It's true. But he countered the effect. (Teak grabs Nigel and holds him between Mark and himself.)

Nigel: How?

Teak: He went to the Wisdom Troll. Wisdom Troll told him to go to the person who hit him with the broom and hit him back seven times. This reverses the effect.

Mark: So if I hit you with this broom, you'd hit me back seven times?

Teak: Yes.

Knock at the door. Nigel breaks away.

Nigel: Come in!

Elder Stan enters.

          Stan: Hello there, I'm Elder Stan. God has made room for you in his kingdom, and you can read why in my new set of twelve books about infidelity, masturbation...

Nigel: Excuse me.

Nigel gets the broom from Mark and beats Elder Stan soundly with it. Elder Stan flees.

Stan: Jesus Christ!

Nigel: Thanks! (Returns the broom and exits to the kitchen.) Ah ha ha hah ha!

Teak: Wisdom Troll also says that it's lucky to live in the same house as a mad man.

Mark: I don't feel very lucky.

Teak: He also invites good fortune into his home by spreading dung through all his living areas.

Mark: Don't even think about it.

Nigel: (Re-entering.) Hey citizens, look at this! It's in this morning's newspaper. “An unprecedented phenomenon is sweeping the city. Death toll rises to a confirmed fifty four, only one dozen shy of making the Scurvy Slayer the most prolific serial killer in history. Perhaps more astounding than the sheer industriousness of the six week rampage, is the public response. Young urban professionals who seem to be the primary victims are outraged, and in most cases scared. However, younger age brackets, adults in their twenties, are fascinated. They seem to look to the Scurvy Slayer as some kind of hero - a Robin Hood for the Turn of the Century." Isn't that great? A Robin Hood for the Turn of the Century?

Teak: Wait a second. If you're Robin Hood then who am I?

Nigel: Um, Tonto.

Teak: Cool. Tonto.

Mark: Nigel, you're kidding yourself. You can't cover it up with heroic phrases. I don't care if you're the Braveheart - William Wallace of serial killers. Self-made man or not, you're still sick. Look, I think it's about time you step back and look at things from a fresh, objective viewpoint.

Nigel: Oh my God! You're absolutely right. How could I be so blind?

Mark: Good, so you're going to turn yourself in?

Nigel: What? No. I'm going to expand to other cities. Come on Teak, we're off to HappyMart. We're going to look into franchising.

They exit.

Mark: In my own defense, I would like to point out that I did not create the monster. I inadvertently fed it steroids, but my hands are clean. I've been opposed right from the start. (He singles out one audience member.) You, you saw it, you witnessed the whole thing. I'm innocent. You can't blame a guy for turning a blind eye where friends are involved. Can you? Can you? (Mark swats the person with the broom and runs away, off stage.)

Scene.

BLACKOUT NINE:

Sky: Hello caller welcome to request line… Hello? Okay… line two. (Feedback.) Jesus! Turn down your radio! Christ caller! Fuck, what are you - stupid? Jesus. Oh. Fuck… shit. Damn - I mean shit. I uh, er, hello? Your name please?

Luka: My name is Luka.

Sky: And what would you like to hear?

Luka: Something by Suzanne Vega.

Sky: Sorry caller, she's got more than one hit, I can't play that. Anything else?

Luka: Chumbawumba?

Sky: Now THAT I can do!

“Tubthumping” by Chumbawumba fades in and out again.

SCENE ELEVEN:

HAPPYMART - MORNING

Buddy is standing at the counter. He has a MondoMug (Big Gulp-esque drink - a mocked up KFC container.) which he sips. Pause. He occupies himself. A longer pause. He waits. Nothing happens. He smiles and nods at the security camera. Pause.

Buddy: I've got a BA in anthropology.

Pause.

         Buddy: That must be how I got this job over all the other applicants. Now I get to put my over qualifications to work nightly. Making coffee, maintenancing the HappySlush machine when it makes the wrong consistency of HappySlush. I sit up over night drinking far too much Coke, selling cigarettes to customers coming out of the Smudgy Pigeon. Then, once the Pigeon closes, anyone who still wants a drink comes over for a nice bottle of Listerine. Mouthwash? Aisle two. Aisle Two? Farther! Past the tampons. It's really kind of depressing having to face this side of humanity. Especially when you get shit on as hard as you do in my position. No one respects the plight of the night shift convenience worker. I work minimum wage and people expect me to pick up the difference of the few pennies they're short for their M & M's. If I did that for everyone who comes in here. I'd be working here for free. That MondoMug has gone right through me. Excuse me.

Just as Buddy moves to go, the entrance bell rings. Nigel and Teak barge in.

          Nigel: See Teak? This is where it's at. National franchising. HappyMart has stores right across the country. I bet that the guy who came up with this convenience empire has houses on both coasts, and every exciting city in between. Montreal, Toronto, Vancouver...

Teak: Calgary!

          Nigel: I said exciting cities. See, what it's all about is standardizing and mass production. Every MondoMug is the same, every HappySlush is the same. unfortunately, so is every coffee.

Teak: Igh.

          Nigel: What we have to do is find some way to standardize our service. We'll have to work on that. MMM! And while we're here we should pick up some more lemons.

Teak: Hey Buddy.

Buddy: Hey.

Teak: You alright?

Buddy: Fine thanks.

Teak: You're looking a little pale.

Nigel: Teak will you help me with these?

Teak tries to help.  Chaotic physical comedy ensues.

Nigel: Teak?

Teak: Nigel.

Nigel: Teak!

Teak: Nigel?

Nigel: Teak!

Teak: Nigel!

Lemons end up all over the floor.

Nigel: Teak, pick those up! Buddy, lemons. Ring 'em up.

Buddy: That will be $19.50.

Nigel: $19.50 for three lemons?

Buddy: There's been a strange glut in the lemon market lately. Supply and demand.

Nigel: Right.

Teak: You sure you're alright Buddy? You look a little tense.

Buddy: I uh... gnnn!

Nigel: You are looking a little stressed Buddy. Job getting you down?

Buddy: MMMM.

Nigel: Well, you're in luck. Bet you didn't know I've gone into business for myself.

Buddy: MMn?

Nigel: Got my own job placement agency. You thinking of maybe working your way up the HappyMart ladder?

Buddy: MMNH!

Nigel: Well, just sign right here and you'll be manager in just ten days! (Pokes Buddy who's bladder fails him.)

Teak: You sound relieved Buddy.

Buddy: You could say that.

Nigel: You ought to be. Soon you'll be Numero Uno.

Buddy: I know what the first thing I'll do will be.

Teak: What's that?

Buddy: I'm going to fix the coffee so that the night shift employees don't have to drink so much damned Coke to stay awake.

Teak: You can fix the coffee?

Buddy: I find your lack of faith disturbing.

Nigel: Buddy, if you can fix the coffee here, you deserve a real reward.  Tell you what, we'll discount the service. One hundred dollars.

Buddy: Oh, money's no object.

Nigel: Alright. Five hundred it is. Come on Teak, let's get a taco.

Teak and Nigel exit.

Buddy: I've still got two hours left in my shift.

Scene.

BLACKOUT TEN:

Sky: Hello caller.

Buddy: Hello?

Sky: Who am I talking to?

Buddy: Am on?

Sky: Yes you're on.

Buddy: You mean I'm on the actual radio?

Sky: Yep, you're live. What's your name?

Buddy: Buddy at HappyMart.

Sky: Hey Buddy, welcome to the show. So, what do you think about today's topic: "The Scurvy Slayer?"

          Buddy: He's cool. "The Scurvy Slayer" is giving new life and excitement to this city. You don't know who's gonna die next. It could be me. It could be you.

          Sky: I see. Well, I don't think it will be me Buddy. Tell me, how do you respond to the suggestion that "The Scurvy Slayer" is only attacking established professionals?

Buddy: More power to him. We need room. They've got it coming. Those bourgeois bastards can cram it up their…

Sky: Thank you caller! (Aside.) Jesus Mike, where do you get these people?

SCENE TWELVE:

THE STREET - NIGHT

Teak is struggling home with the HappyMart manager's body in a bag.

Teak: God this guy's heavy.

Constable Chisholm: (Entering.) Excuse me Son.

Teak: Oh. Hello officer.

Constable Chisholm: You dropped this bloodied shirt a ways back there.

Teak: Uh, thanks.

Constable Chisholm: That's quite the stain. You might try putting some soda water on that - or perhaps some lemon juice.

Teak: Thanks, I'll keep that in mind.

Constable Chisholm: Say, I just finished this MondoMug from HappyMart. Mind if I put it in with the rest of your garbage?

Teak: Yeah, sure. No! No I can't.

Constable Chisholm: What do you mean you can't?

Teak: Uh… the bag is all full. Isn't that right bag? That's right! Say 'Hello' to the nice officer. Hello Mr. Pig, hello!

Constable Chisholm: It doesn't look that full to me.

Teak: It's really very full. It just doesn't look that way from the outside.

Constable Chisholm: Now how can that be?

Teak: It's very special garbage. It's extra dimensional garbage. It takes up way more room than it looks like.

Constable Chisholm: Let me get this straight. Extra dimensional garbage?

Teak: Uh-huh.

Constable Chisholm: I gotta see this!

Teak: Negative. Negative. I have a reactor leak in here now. Uh… large leak - very dangerous.

Constable Chisholm: Look Son, all I want is the truth.

Teak: You can't handle the truth!

Constable Chisholm: Oh yeah tough guy? We'll just have to see about that.

Teak: Aaaaah!

Teak charges at Chisholm.

Constable Chisholm: Whoa! Whoa Son! There's a time and a place for violence.

Teak: (Turning his back on Chisholm.) Right. You're absolutely right.

          Constable Chisholm: (Pistol whipping Teak from behind.) And that time is now! Now you wait right there and leave your little parcel just right where it is.

He steps aside and talks on Walkie Talkie.

Constable Chisholm: Chisholm here.

Walkie Talkie: Gohda tou loh solo?

Constable Chisholm: Tinderhousedogfacecabbagepatch.

Walkie Talkie: Soam peetah lay.

Constable Chisholm: Over and out. Son, there's a matter I have to discuss with you.

Teak: I can explain.

          Constable Chisholm: There's a limit on the size of receptacle you can leave for the civic garbage crews to take away. You can't leave that on the street for pick up. You'll have to take it down to the transfer station yourself.

Teak: Yessir! Yessir!

Walkie Talkie beeps.

Constable Chisholm: Excuse me a moment. Chisholm here.

Walkie Talkie: Cheezamott boffast.

Constable Chisholm: "The Scurvy Slayer!" In my neighbourhood? How'd you find out?

Walkie Talkie: Poskynot sumblastness.

Constable Chisholm: Prescription sunglasses. Where is he?

Walkie Talkie: Nistafot fostalotovard.

Constable Chisholm: #13 Cecelia Boulevard. As in "Cecelia, you're breaking my heart. You're shaking...?"

Walkie Talkie: Yeahyeahyeahyeah.

Constable Chisholm: Alright. Send SWAT team, K-9 patrol, forensics unit, bomb squad and back up. I'll be there right away.

Teak rushes away with the body.

Walkie Talkie: Rawcha ohvenowp.

Constable Chisholm: Over and out. Son, I have to... Son?

Chisholm turns to leave. He stops, he runs the other way. He stops and runs back. He pulls out Walkie Talkie.

Constable Chisholm: Chisholm here. Where am I?

Scene.

BLACKOUT ELEVEN:

Sky: (Fading in.) …heard by five men named Tony. At last report the priest was in stable condition, but the goats had to be put down. (Music begins.) That's the news. This is WFUZ Flash in the Pan Radio. All the world's great one hit wonders on one station. And now a 23.5 minute Non-stop-flash-back-rock-block!

Music rises. "The Future's So Bright I Gotta Wear Shades" by Timbuk 3. It fades out.

SCENE THIRTEEN:

No. 13 CECELIA BLVD. - NIGHT

Nigel is watching X-Files. Teak enters, body on shoulder.

Teak: Nigel! Nigel!

Nigel: Ho! Calm down. Christ almighty! What is this?

Teak: HappyMart manager.

Nigel: HappyMart manager! Teak, how many times have I told you not to bring your work home with you? It's bad form.

Teak: I was in a big rush, man.

Nigel: Teak you're never in too big of a rush to dispose of a body.

Teak: The cops are coming.

Nigel: It only takes five minutes to weigh a body down and throw it in the river.

Teak: The cops are coming!

Nigel: A little care and attention to detail is the key to success!

Teak: THE COPS ARE COMING!

Nigel: There's never time to do it right… (Sirens wail outside.) but there's always... time... to... do it... again...? Did you just say the cops are coming?

Squeal of brakes.

Teak: They're here!

Nigel: Great. Just great! Now what are we supposed to do with this thing? If you had just got rid of it in the first place.

Teak: But I had to come tell you that the cops were coming.

Nigel: Nevermind. We just have to find some way to get rid of this.

Nigel & Teak: Garbeurator!

They exit with body to kitchen. We hear them.

Nigel: Just stick his feet in there.

Teak: Okay.

Garbeurator noises. Blood squirts out of kitchen.

Nigel: Dammit, this isn't going fast enough!

Teak: What should we do?

Nigel: Look through the drawer to find something to cut it up with.

Teak: Like what?

Nigel: Anything. Anything we can use to speed this up a bit. Anything that will slice, dice or otherwise dismember this corpse.

Teak: How about this. It slices, it dices. Look it will go right through this tin can, and it still cuts right through this tomato!

Nigel: That's not a tomato.

Teak: It kind of looks like a tomato.

Nigel: Just give me that. Here you use this knife.

Teak: I can't.

Nigel: Just use it.

Teak: I can't.

Nigel: Just take it - cut pieces...

Teak: But... but I can't!

Nigel: Why the hell not?

Teak: You said I can't use your dishes. (Bong! - The hollow sound of someone being hit with a pot.) Okay. I'll use it.

Mark has entered and looked around the living room.

Mark: Holy cow! What are all those police cars doing out there? Somebody must be in trouble. SWAT team, K-9 patrol. This is going to be better than TV. Bad boys bad boys whacha gonna dooo....

Mark enters kitchen.

Mark: For crying out loud you guys, I told you when you use my good knife to put it back in it's sheath… Oh my god!

Mark stumbles back into the living room followed by more blood. He pukes behind the sofa.

Constable Chisholm: (On megaphone.) We've got you surrounded. Come out with your hands up!

Teak comes out of kitchen, arms raised. Nigel pulls him back.

Mark: There's no way out.

Constable Chisholm: There's no way out.

Mark: We only have one minute.

Constable Chisholm: You only have one minute.

Mark: Nobody told me there'd be days like these.

Constable Chisholm: Nobody told you there'd be days like these.

Mark: Strange days indeed.

Constable Chisholm: Most peculiar Mama.

Nigel: For God's sake lock the door!

Mark: I'm locking the door.

Nigel: Amateurs!

As Mark approaches the door, Mr. Bludfluke barrels through it, knocking Mark down and out.

Mr. B: Who are you? What are you doing here? Wake up! All you punks ever do is sleep. You loaf! I'm talking to you. Get out of my house!

Mr. Bludfluke uses the remote to turn on the TV.     The opening theme of X-Files is heard.

Mr. B: Where the goddamn piss are my pickles!

Nigel & Teak: X-Files!

They each enter with a bloody limb in hand. The fight Mr. Bludfluke off with the body parts.

Constable Chisholm: We fire in 5... 4... 3... 2... 1...

Just as Nigel and Teak sit down, there is a round of gunfire. The TV blows up.

Nigel: Jesus!

Teak: They shot the TV!

Mark regains consciousness.

Mark: What the hell is going on?

Nigel: The police are here.

Mark: Oh wonderful. I'm in the middle of mid-terms and my night of studying is ruined by a siege of my apartment. Thanks Nige.

Nigel: Hey, don't look at me. Teak's the one who led them here.

Teak: I didn't lead them here, they were already on their way.

Nigel: Already on their way? How'd they find out then?

Teak: They traced your prescription sunglasses Nigel.

Nigel: Oh shit.

Mark: Way to go Nige!

Nigel: Give it a rest.

Mark: You and your stupid crusade!

Nigel: Let it alone already.

Mark: You arrogant, scruffy looking nerf-herder!

Nigel: Who's scruffy looking. (Phone rings.) Jesus Christ! (He answers it.) What!

Voice on Phone: Is this 49 avenue?

Nigel: What? No this is not 49th...

Gunfire. Slow motion. Nigel is shot several times. He falls to the ground. Mark pulls him into his arms.

Mark: Noooo!

Nigel: Aaaaaaaaaaaa...!

Mark: Nnniiigggeeellllllll!

Teak: The grassy knoll!!!!

Slow motion ends.

Mark: Nigel! Nigel are you okay?

          Nigel: What does it look like? I'm fucking dying here. All this blood is scaring the shit out of me Oh God, I can't believe they killed me.

Mark: Hey - HEY - Listen to me. Nobody's dying here. Are you a doctor?

Nigel: RRRRRRGhh....

Mark: Tell me are you a doctor?

Nigel: Nnnn – no Hurk!

Mark: Oh God, Nigel... Nigel! Stay with me. Please don't die!

Nigel: (Sings.) Don't you fret M'sieur Markus I don't feel any pain...

Mark: (Slaps Nigel.) Stop it! You're hallucinating! Hang on, hang on Nige... Listen, I didn't mean to call you a nerf-herder.

Nigel: 'Sokay....

Mark: I didn't mean to call your crusade stupid.

Nigel: It's okay... You don't understand... I did it all for you....

Mark: You what?

Nigel: Yes you know it's true. Everything I do - I do it for you.

(Dies.)

Mark: What? You what? What are you talking about? Nigel! What does that mean? Nigel? Oh Nigel....

Pounding on door.

Constable Chisholm: We're coming in!

Teak stands up ramrod straight and pulls Nigel's coat over his head. Constable Chisholm rushes in and slips in the vomit.

Constable Chisholm: Shit!

Mark: Watch out for the vomit.

Constable Chisholm: Get away from the body. (Mark does. Constable Chisholm checks Nigel's pulse.) He's dead. Move away from the coat rack. (Mark steps away from Teak. Chisholm puts hand cuffs on Mark.) Let's go. (Slips in vomit.) SHIT!

Mark: Watch out for the vomit.

Constable Chisholm: Got anything to say for yourself?

Mark: Sometimes around here, entire days go on like this.

Constable Chisholm: Yeah whatever. Move it. (They leave.) You have the right to remain silent...

Teak pulls the coat off his head and looks around.

Teak: Noxious.

Unholy Disembodied Voice: Teak.

Teak: Who? Me?

Unholy Disembodied Voice: No, the corpse. Of course you.

Teak: Well, you do have strange and mysterious powers.

Unholy Disembodied Voice: Shut-up.

Teak: Sorry.

Unholy Disembodied Voice: Your mission here is complete. It's time to go.

Teak: Oh, great! Can I take my...?

Unholy Disembodied Voice: No!

Teak:... How about my?

Unholy Disembodied Voice: NO!

Teak: Man. Extra-dimensional parents are such a drag.

Teak exits.

Dale: (Offstage.) Guys? Guys, can you keep it down out here? I'm trying to sleep. (Entering.) Guys? Guys? Hey Nige... (Phone rings. He goes to the phone. Slips in vomit.) Shit. Who left this casserole on the floor? (He picks up the phone.) Hello, Dale speaking, President of 49th Avenue Consulting.

Scene.

BLACKOUT TWELVE:

"Right Here Right Now" by Jesus Jones fades in and out again.

Sky: And now a WFUZ 23.5 second news update. Brought to you by HappyMart. Well folks, it's over. Last night after a brief stand off, the police gunned down "The Scurvy Slayer." Dead is Nigel DeMentia, confirmed to be responsible for at least 55 deaths in this city over the past two months. Missing is Teak Phlegming, one of "The Scurvy Slayer's" roommates. The other two, Mark Bloe and Dale Vickery were questioned by the authorities and subsequently released.

SCENE FOURTEEN - EPILOGUE:

THE SMUDGY PIGEON - MORNING ­

Pat and Mark are in The Pigeon.

Pat: Drink?

Mark: No thanks.

Pat: It's on the house.

Mark: Canterbury. (Pat brings it to him.) Thanks.

Pat: Pff... 'S nothing.

Mark: No, thanks for bailing me out.

Pat: Oh. That. You owe me 8OO bucks.

Mark: Don't worry. The police told me I'm not supposed to leave town. Besides, my student loan is coming in.

Pause.

Pat: You okay?

Mark: Yeah.

Pat: Liar.

Mark: Yeah. I guess I'm still in shock. I'll get upset once everything hits me. Nigel was my best friend.

Pat: I know you and Nigel were close. I hated his guts. I don't know what to say....

Mark: You don't have to say anything. It's just his last words. I wonder what he meant.

Pat: What did he say?

Mark: He said, "Everything I do - I do it for you."

Pat: He was probably trying to give you a complex.

Mark: Yeah, Nigel sure had an odd sense of humour.

    Pat: Yeah, he sure shook this town up and turned it on it's ass. Jesus what a bastard. ???? Bastard. Holy Shit! I'm cured! Quick ask me for a double.

Mark: Can I have a double?

Pat: What?

Mark: Can I have a double?

Pat: No! You can't have a double. What kind of twisted fuck are you? We don't serve doubles. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Thanks, you're beautiful.

Mark: Wait. Are you sure you're cured?

Pat: Yeah, I really meant that last part. I'll get you that double now.

Pat exits.

Mark: Mind if I turn on the radio?

Pat: Go right the fuck ahead!

    Mark turns on the radio. It begins to play "Murder by Numbers" by The Police. He switches stations. It plays "Empty Chairs at Empty Tables" from Les Miserables. He quickly changes again. "I Just Died in Your Arms Tonight" by Cutting Crew plays. Mark begins to sob and changes the station again. He finds WFUZ....

Sky: Good news folks! Heat wave is over. We can expect rain tonight to wash our streets clean of blood and lemon juice. Here's a little EMF going out to Nigel, where ever he is. Hey Nigel, it's been unbelievable!

"Unbelieveable" by EMF begins.

Mark drinks a toast to absent friends as the lights go down.

Scene.

Play.

Show.

A note on editing dialogue:

This really just dawned on me. It is something I have been doing for some time as a writer, but I only really just identified how I was using it. Hopefully it will be of some use to some one out there.

I tend to put as much as I can on the page in a first draft - often its not enough in some places, but mostly it is overwriting and I wouldn't have it any other way. From there I scale back. It happens in stages, but there is no point at which the stages are mutually exclusive. If something needs doing and I recognize it, I almost always do it in the moment (unless it is a distraction from a bigger task.) First I look for wording that is unclear and or unnecessarily complex. Sometimes there is a purpose for convoluted wording, but usually I was wrong in the first pass. Next I strip away most of the conversational dross. I write SO many sentences that start with "well", "but", "yeah" or "okay" almost none of which adds to the core ideas or character voice, and almost every single one of those sentences work better simply by clipping that opening verbal detritus. Repetition also gets a good scrubbing at this point too.
Doing these surface-level changes first means that I read the script a few extra times (Usually I read it at least once without making a change before any of this.) to re-familiarize myself with the details as much as possible.
Once these first changes are done things get more complicated and much more tailored to the specifics of the writing - the theme, the plot, the characters. An element of this is what I had a realization about.

I'm going to use my actual dialogue to demonstrate:

A: I refuse to be seen as someone who would condemn millions of people to death.

B: If it came to that, your self-image would be moot.

(That first line is actually the last sentence of a longer passage, but it is all that is immediately relevant.)

My first pass - the really surface stuff - resulted in the first line being scaled down to:

A: I refuse to be seen as someone who would condemn millions to death.

B: If it came to that, your self-image would be moot.

The "people" is pretty clearly implied - especially with the context of the preceding dialogue (you can take my word on that.)

My next pass...

A: I refuse for that to be seen as my legacy.

B: If it came to that, your self-image would be moot.

Much shorter, and again we know from context what 'A' means.

The next version is where I really had my epiphany.

A: That will not be my legacy.

B: If it came to that, your self-image would be moot.

Half the length of the original sentence, and 'A' doesn't hint at it being a matter of how they will be seen by the world. Because 'B' says it all. This changes 'B' in big ways. Instead of simply reacting and cutting 'A' for being worried about how 'A' will be perceived, 'B' actually does some mental work and reads right through to the sub-text of what 'A' says and in the end accomplishes all that was intellectually there before and more.
In the final tally this: 1) makes it more entertaining dialogue, 2) is more concise, 3) does more interesting things with both characters, 4) Doesn't pander to the audience!

As is so often the case, less is more.

Like I said, I've been doing this kind of edit for quite some time, I just hadn't quantified it and thereby realized what I was doing.

Good luck!

How We Broke Bad With Walter White

SPOILER ALERT

If you are not up to date with Breaking Bad, this post is going to spoil stuff from pretty much episode one right through the third to last episode.  Consider yourself warned.

Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!

I haven't spent anytime on social media since last night so I don't know the broader reaction, but last night's (third to last) Breaking Bad was one of the hardest TV viewing experiences ever. (9/11 and similar news trauma notwithstanding.) After sleeping on it and taking in The Newsroom's uplifting finale as a palate cleanser, I've had time for reflection and processed my feelings somewhat.

I'm betting that there are viewers out there who are feeling betrayed, and that is an easy to understand knee jerk. If, after last night's episode, you still think Walt is a hero, or even an admirable anti-hero, then keep the hell away from my family. But if you are an emotionally and morally grounded individual, there was no escaping the reality that Walter White's descent has become irredeemable.

And here is where the real brilliance of Breaking Bad and Vince Gilligan comes to surface... We, the audience, were seduced into breaking bad right along with him. It was easy to go along on that ride down with him. Walt was a sympathetic (and initially simply pathetic) everyman in a very difficult position.  Expecting to die soon from cancer, he had to find a way to do right for his nearly destitute family - including pregnant wife and handicapped son.  How could we NOT be on his side?  Sure he went down a questionable road - cooking meth - but it was for his family!

And on it went.  Walt's choices were always for the right reasons and he solved his problems with ingenuity - it was always easy to look the other way.  Looking the other way was of course how Walt's descent really started to take control of him.  All Walt did when Jane was overdosing was (not quite literally) look the other way.  It was something that was happening anyway, Walt simply didn't intercede. And he was doing it for Jesse's best interest.  Partnering with Gus Fring allowed Walt to work in his sweet-spot (as a chemist) and avoid the dirty-work while still making a metric fuck-tonne of money for his family.  Convincing Jesse to kill Gale was simply understandable self-preservation, right? And it's not like Walt pulled the trigger.

By this point the slippery slope is getting quite apparent from our position of privileged hind-sight.  But back then, it all made sense - dark sense, that was apparent, but I know I went along for the ride and I am pretty certain I wasn't the only one.  If I had been the only one, the show would have been cancelled way back then.

I am of course skipping over all kinds of details and focusing on a handful of major events along the way.  Walt engineers the demise of Fring at the hands of Salamanca in one of the more brilliant machinations of the entire series.  How could we not admire Walt for that? After all it was, at that point, kill or be killed and Walt avoided being any more than the proximate cause of Fring's death. Poisoning Brock in order to get Jesse back in line...? Well of course Walt had to do something, right? And its not like Brock died - as Walt has pointed out himself, he knew exactly the right dose to administer in order to walk the line.

Killing Mike?  Well Mike was clearly not a good man, so killing him ought not be seen as a particularly bad thing, even if Walt did have to pull the trigger himself... again ultimately out of self-preservation.

The killing of an innocent boy... that was never on Walt.  Right?  It was Todd.  That was all Todd.  Todd did it.  Walt had nothing to do with it.

Are you calling bullshit?  Yes.  So am I.  But how easy was it to turn a blind eye six months ago?  That was an amazing episode and Todd's actions represented the darkest moment of the series at that point, yet Walt was our hero and the heist had been cleverly executed (who can resist a good train robbery?) so it was easier to look past the collateral in service of the larger narrative.  But what wasn't quite so apparent was that being inured to that violence - the dead of a complete innocent was the larger narrative.

I don't know about you, but last week when the action of the fire-fight cut to the credits, I found myself thinking that our man Walt was going to come up with some way out of his predicament.  He always had before.  And the only other way out was that Hank would be killed and that would just lead to disaster.

Well, disaster has descended upon the White family, Walt in particular.

We have been berated for going along with it - or was that Skyler?  No, actually it was us.  Skyler was merely the vehicle for Marie and Jr./Flynn to deliver the severely deserved chastisement through.

I don't know when it happened for you - one friend identifies Walt's spite filled admission about Jane as her point of no return - but for me, it was the confrontation with his family and ultimately the kidnapping of Holly that did it for me. (For others I know it was the phone call, which for me was merely proof of what I had already determined.) I even spoke out loud to the screen as the camera fell upon Holly and we knew Walt was taking her with him. "No Walt. No."  I knew that if (I was momentarily undecided) I could get past the knife fight with Skyler (she did pull it on him) that taking the baby would definitely be a step too far.  And even that as a father I can understand the instinct of... and hey... he did return Holly of his own free will, and he did it cleverly in a way that avoided capture.  But no... even with those justifications I can't do it.  Walter White is a bad man.  He may not have begin as a bad man.  He may have become a bad man by trying to do the right thing and even by making good choices on the way to the dark side.  But there was no turning back - Walt is Heisenberg - a bad man and has been for a lot longer than I was willing to admit.

I am unsure how I will be redeemed for going along with Walt so far.  We have two episodes to do it in.  I feel pretty confident that Walt cannot be, nor should be.  We, the audience will get our reward by having seen the error of our ways experiencing the catharsis of seeing Walt get his just desserts.

Sports Fandom is a Breeding Ground for Irrational Thought

I've been meaning to write about hockey in general, and the Canucks specifically for about two months now. Obviously it hasn't happened yet until today.

It has been a crazy few years to be a Canucks fan and its kind of hard at the moment to not think that this past weekend had to be the turning point one way or the other - and its kind of hard to imagine the good version, but I'm going to try.

I'll be the first to admit that my view of my team is perpetually rosy, and that by many measures it is hard to see an argument that justifies that position.  But I also try to be level headed and rational - which is something that if you read much fan commentary is a very spare commodity.

Pulling just a few comments that I've read just this morning:

 - "Luongo is a terrible goalie and has nothing to show for it."
Dubious grammar aside.  This one is just flat out wrong.  Hockey-reference.com as of this writing has Luongo ranked as #25 of all-time. His GAA is in the top third of active goalies. He is #2 of all active goaltenders in shut-outs (of course Brodeur is #1 and has nearly twice the number of SOs.) which isn't so much a measure of current quality, but you don't reach that point without a heap of talent. He is also second in wins (again Brodeur - arguably the greatest goaltender to ever live - is first.) His save percentage - third.
I'm sorry - no, I take that back... "Luongo is a terrible goalie" is such an asinine statement that I have nothing to be sorry for when I say that anyone who says that is egregiously wrong.
As to the second half - "has nothing to show for it."  Again, this is wrong.  If the commenter wants to amend that to "has no Stanley Cup to show for it" - which does seem to be the subtext of most comments along this line - then they are correct.  But that is not what they wrote.  Luongo has a Jennings trophy.  The Canucks won two President's Trophies with him in the pipes as well as winning the Western Conference finals once and topping their division every year since 2009.
And of course at the 2010 Oly...
The commenter continues: "You can't count the gold medal."
Uh.... why not?  Because it is the biggest single piece of evidence disproving your claim that he has nothing to show for it?  I suspect that yes, that is the reason for the commenter's cherry-picking of facts.  But the reasons they present are that 1) "its not the NHL"; and 2) "he let in a clunky goal at the end of the third requiring the Canadian team to win in OT."  My short hand argument to both assertions is "so fucking what?" But in the interest of rational discourse I shall elaborate.  1) The discussion is whether Luongo is a terrible goalie or not. Under which umbrella he is a good (or great) goal-tender has nothing to do with the overall question.  Eliminating the data of the olympics is like ignoring the results of one scientific study over another - simply because you don't agree with the results of the one you are discounting.  2) I don't recall anywhere in any hockey rule-book there being a rule about how almost losing is the same as losing.  I've said it a million times it seems, but the goalie's job is to stop one more puck than his competitor at the opposite end of the rink.  If he does better than that, great.  Other than that it doesn't matter when, where or how.
As to "clunky?" There is a heap of traffic in front of that net, including two US players behind the Canadian defense.

The entire argument also wilfully ignores the game-saving stops Luongo did make in the contest - including a doozy in the extra period.

None of this means that I don't think Luongo has his issues. He has shown a propensity for emotional fragility. He has blown more high-pressure games than he has won (but the reality is that in any given year 29 of the teams in the league do so). He did stink up one too many games in the 2011 Stanley Cup final. But he was also brilliant in that series too.  Only two goaltenders have ever posted two shutouts in a Cup final series.  Luongo and Tim Thomas - both in the same series.  Overall, he did fail the "stop one more goal than your rival" test in the final.  But he got us to that final, and the other side of the coin, in order to "stop one more goal than your rival" your team has to score - and that was something that the skaters largely failed at in the games the Canucks lost in that series (game six is the only game that really could have been saved by better goal-tending if you really want to be honest about it.)  For that matter, if you look at the four games of the 2013 first round sweep of the Canucks by the Sharks, Luongo was the better goalie in the playoffs, and in the games he played was actually the best player on the ice for the Canucks.  Yes, it was a sweep.  But most of those games were a lot closer than the series outcome implies.  I'm not going to break it down, but no less than two of those games were lost to either a bad play by Canucks skaters or unbelievably bad calls by the officials.  No reason to make the goalies the scapegoats - or worse yet, make one goalie a scapegoat for circumstances outside of their control, but not do the same for the other.

 - "The Canucks will never win the Cup because they've never won the Cup."
Where do you start with this one?  There is no causal relationship here.  Yet, this statement and similar sentiments are remarkably common.  "The Canucks suck because they have never won the Cup."  Uh... what?  I would love for the Canucks to win the Stanley Cup - and I have total faith that they will some day - but "they suck because they have never won the Cup" can only be one of two things.  Trolling, or a pretty astounding lack of appreciation for the actual game.  A lot of great teams have failed to win the cup in any given year.  There is ALWAYS more than one worthy team in the playoffs, but only one ever hoists the hardware.  The Canucks have been a pretty great team for most of the last dozen years, and it really sucks that they haven't managed to go all the way in that time (or ever), but that doesn't actually make them a bad team. (Not to beat a dead-horse, but if it DID mean they were a bad team, then conversely there would only ever be one good team int he league in any given season.)  Statistically speaking they are behind the curve.  42 years in a league with 14-30 teams, they ought to have won the Cup by now.  But you can say the same for Buffalo who entered the league the same year and have only made it to the final once. Worse yet, you can say the same of St. Louis who had an extra three years, made it to the Cup finals each of their first three years (due to the NHL equivalent of affirmative action - where the playoffs set the expansion teams against the O6 teams, so one expansion team was destined to play in the final) and have not come closer than the conference finals (twice) in the 42 years since.

- "The Devils become an instant contender with Schneider."
Wow.  This HAS to be a poe.  HAS TO BE.
You almost have to know absolutely nothing about hockey to say something this dumb. In fact, if you've bothered to read this far, I probably don't even have to explain how barking this is.  But in a sentence... Martin Brodeur (arguably the best goalie of all-time - see above) has been between the pipes for NJ forever, winning two Cups and taking the team to the final two other times - INCLUDING LAST YEAR.
Schneider will be good for the Devils' future, 'cause Marty is going to wake up one day in the next 24 months and very suddenly have become a mortal being. Quality tends to turn over fast for goalies.  Schneider will be there to catch the team when Brodeur hangs up his jersey, but he isn't making them a contender.

And so it seems I have inadvertently transitioned into the Schneider trade...

I was as shocked as anyone.

Disappointed even.

But upon sober reflection, I don't think there was another way.
I (obviously) am a Luongo proponent, but when Cory took over in the 2012 LA/Van series I "knew" it was over, and thought that for the good of all, that it should be. Luongo would be better off being moved, the team would have a change that could be mentally circled around for a morale boost, and the PR nightmare would be done once and for all.
Fast forward to the 2013 entry draft.... oh, boy....
After a year of not being able to move Luongo, and all the kudos that went to both net-minders for handling the situation well, who gets moved? Schneider.  And though there are folks like me who still love Luongo for being the best goaltender the Canucks have ever had (go ahead, make an argument against that - the statistics say you are wrong) I knew that if I felt, at best, mixed, that the majority of Canucks fans - who are largely Canucks fans, not hockey fans, if you get the distinction - would be anywhere from alienated to outraged.  I find it agonizing that in this market that public opinion has as much sway on hockey decisions as it does.  It has to.  I understand that.  I'm also relieved that Canucks brass has the cajones to stand against it as much as they do - but it is a balancing act.  And this Jenga tower has tumbled.

But here's the thing... there was no other way.  That sucks.  But that's the way it is.

It comes down to Luongo's contract.  That record-breaking, rule-bending, precedent-setting contract.  There was some genius in it when it was signed. The way it creatively accounted its way around salary-cap issues... fucking brilliant.  And that is why it was the template for a schwack of contracts around the league that followed it.  But it bit back.  It made Luongo un-tradeable.  That is self-evident now.  If Luongo could have been traded, he would have been traded by the deadline last year, and if there was any doubt about that then, it is abundantly clear now.
So what options did we have with goalie-gate?
Not many.
1) Compliance buy-out on Luongo and send him on his way for nothing.  Less than nothing. It would cost them 13.5 million dollars just to say goodbye.
2) Keep both. Ha ha. Right.One short season of that worked better than it should have, but the cap-hit alone simply won't stand.
3) Renegotiate Luongo's contract downwards. Not actually an option. The NHLPA would set fire to Rogers Arena.
4) Trade Schneider.

Realistically there are only two options there. #1 and #4. Both were going to be PR nightmares.
Of course we ALL know better than Mike Gillis - just read the comments online, its apparent that anyone who has been watching 2 games a week plus playoffs for 25 years knows more about hockey than a guy who has spent his life in the business and lives and breathes the behind the scenes details of his team that we will never see. Just ask any of them. They all think Gillis is an idiot.
I do think Gillis is on shaky ground. He has one season, I figure, to do something to change the state of the team - and more power to him, he is giving it all he's got.
I'm not confident that trading the younger, still improving, cheaper goalie was the better choice, but I don't think the other option was clearly a better option.  At least this way the team got something back.  A lot of the grumbling seems to stem from a fiction that there was another option - trading Luongo. And that, as I've already pointed out, was clearly not in the cards.
The next tier of dissent among fans is that assuming Schneider had to go, that we didn't get enough in return.  On the surface it certainly feels that way, doesn't it?  Schneider is exactly what New Jersey needs for their future and they got him for a first round draft-pick who may never wear an NHL jersey.  But the question is not "what is Schneider worth in trade?" The question is "what could we get for him when the moment Gillis mentions him in a trade discussion it confirms what every GM in the league ought to already know - that they have Gillis over a barrel?"  He was doomed to get screwed. It would have been nice to get a roster player in the trade, and I think that in most other circumstances that would have been warranted.
Bo Horvat, the player we got with our pick looks promising. Hes an OHL MVP and as close to a lock for the NHL as the average first rounder gets. The beauty of being 9th is that you aren't first. There is all kinds of room for disappointment in those first picks.  The focus on the top three or so picks is usually unrealistically high, setting up a failure to meet expectations. Drop down a few rungs and there is room to exceed.  The jury is out and will be for at least the season or two it takes for Horvat to get into the league, but he has the all the boxes ticked for a player who could be the future of a team.  With all the talk about how our present is slipping away, this isn't a hollow move for the organization.

Speaking of the future...
What is Luongo's future?
He has few options right now. He can take the path of least resistance (at least professionally, I'm of the understanding that his wife has never supported Vancouver, and for all practical purposes has never lived here... gee thanks, Honey. Perhaps we shouldn't be vilifying Roberto for his emotional fragility and looking at his support network.) and commit to Vancouver with all that he's got. That is what management expects.  Or he could retire. Heh.  Or he could refuse to report to training camp.  Its not out of the realm of possibility.  At this point if he feels fucked over, that is his deserved right.  But at the same time, he did make this bed himself by agreeing to the contract that has caused the issue.  If Luongo doesn't play in Vancouver - either by retiring (simply not going to happen yet) or by refusing to report - then we are hooped.  That is a reality that the fans need to embrace and accept.  And that means getting behind Luongo, making him feel welcome and appreciated.  We need to encourage him to be the goalie of his resume, not the goalie of his reputation.
At 34 he is getting close, if not past, the point where goal-tenders start to decline, but the good news is that it is very common for the tail of an elite goalie's career to be quite long.  Take Brodeur as an example for the umpteenth time in this post.  Luongo could easily have another 5 or 6 years as one of the best goal-tenders in the league, and it is not out of the question that he could still make an argument for being the best active goalie in the next few seasons.  His contract was built with exactly that possibility in mind. He will still be being paid more than his actual cap-hit for another five years - that is a plus of sorts, albeit one that wouldn't be relevant with a different contract.  Luongo could still be the player he is expected to be.  Many a player has been less than their perceived legend until they've won a Cup (Yzerman springs to mind.) and many many great and beloved players have never won cups at all.  We have no choice now but to hope he is the former, not the latter.  Accept it and get with the program, 'cause he will be a better player with our support than without it.

Think of all the money that will be saved now that this doesn't have to be removed from the arena.

I can hardly believe I've made it this far without mentioning the name John Tortorella.
Two days ago it was a subject that would have been the bulk of this post.

My short-form opinion is that I am not pleased with the match.  I just don't think that he's the right guy for this team. I will be very happy to be proven wrong.  I will be curious to see how his feisty presence works here, both with the team and with the media, but the guy was fired from Madison Square Gardens because his team didn't score enough.  Is that really what we need here?  Granted that may be exactly the kind of style that Luongo flourishes under, but I'm not so eager to watch that kind of hockey.
Vigneault had to go.  I liked him, but it was clear that a change had to be made, and I'm sure that if AV hadn't been shown the door that Gillis would have been (and as I indicated earlier I don't think Gillis has much room left to work with without results.)  With that in mind I had hoped that we might bring Patrick Roy back to the NHL behind our bench.  But the Canucks were a day late firing Vigneault for that to even be a possibility.  And as the job was available in Colorado, I don't think it ever really had been an option for us.
So I guess I hope that Tortorella coaches the team he has and makes all the pieces function at their peak and doesn't try to shoe-horn it all into a system that isn't in the DNA of the team.  I hope the players recognize that, whatever the changes are from AV to Fonzie, that the status quo wasn't working and that a reasonable shift in the system could be fruitful if everyone buys in.  (Oh gawd... usually when a team "buys in" to a system, isn't the unspoken part of that; "to an un-entertaining, if effective system"?)
There is a temptation to compare Tortorella to Keenan, but I don't think that can fairly be done beyond the temper.  Tortorella was not brought in as the buddy of a hired-gun superstar, like Kennan was with Messier. (Who I loved, but his Canucks years were the among the worst for him and the team.) The team is not actually skidding the way the Canucks were in 1997 and though the teams' system needs an upgrade, there is no indication that the country-club atmosphere of the late 90s is an issue now.  Lastly, Keenan had trading power. Tortorella doesn't, and I don't think there is any chance that that kind of mistake will ever be made again on Abbott St.

Hopefully the team can pick up an interesting UFA (Lecavalier* has experience in the Tortorella system - doubt that we can fit him into our payroll though.) and give the fans something to think positively about before the first puck drops.  After that, all bets are off.  Things are extremely in question right now - volatile, even - but once the heat of this past weekend (literal and figurative) has passed there is actually plenty of reason to continue to expect the Canucks to be a contender.

A bit of a tangent as I wrap up...

Regarding the notion that there is a conspiracy to keep the Canucks from ever winning a Cup:

First off.... Why?  What purpose does that serve?

I will grant there does seem to be some favouritism in the league.  In the past 20 Cups (21 years, due to the lock-out season) an O6 team has won 9 times. (Montreal - 1993, Rangers - 1994, Detroit - 98, 98, 02 & 08, Chicago 10 & 13, Boston 11). So perhaps - maybe even probably - there is some favouritism that creeps in via the officiating and trickling down through the media. Its hard to come up with an argument other than "an unlikely confluence of events" that explains how those specific teams should have a disproportionate number of wins amongst them.  But there is a LONG way between "subtle refereeing bias" and "conspiracy."  Furthermore it doesn't explain why only five of the O6 teams are represented in that list - in fact the team with the biggest market in the entire league, the Maple Leafs isn't on that list at all (and haven't won since before the Canucks were in the league (against St. Louis in those affirmative action years of early expansion.)
That said, there have been rules, circumstances and traditions in the past that favoured the O6 teams.  Note that for those first three years of expansion mentioned above that the Blues did not win a single game.  Also did you know (obscure fact time) that the Canadiens have the right to veto the pick of any team selecting a French Canadian player in the entry draft in order to select that player as their next pick.  (This rule was only exercised once and has since been changed so that all other GMs in the league must agree to said veto - which isn't going to happen - but the rule technically still stands.)
There is also a similar conspiracy theory - that the league doesn't want Canadian teams to win (and it has been since 1993 when the Habs last won). The basic standard explanation being that they need to keep the interest up in the States by continuing to bring the Cup there.  Really?  If it was a question of keeping interest high in struggling markets Wayne Gretzky would have his name on the Cup as the coach of the Coyotes.
On top of that, all standard arguments about how logistically difficult it is to maintain a conspiracy apply (in a nutshell, the number of people necessarily involved in this case would be too big for there not to be a leak) not to mention the un-equal danger of negative fall-out should such a conspiracy ever come to light.  The NHL would have its own Erik Snowden by now, if there was such a conspiracy.
So, conspiracy - no, bias - possibly.

This has been long.  I've said most of what I can imagine to say.

Go Canucks!


*EDIT: I wrote this several hours ago. About 1 minute ago I got an alert that the Flyers have signed Lecavalier.  So nix that.

What the end of The Sopranos means, now that the other option is no longer possible...

 If by any chance you plan to watch The Sopranos through to the end and haven't yet done it, just be warned - this post is predominantly about the very end of the series.  If by any chance you've avoided knowing how it ends, do yourself a favour and don't blow it by reading this.  Go and watch the rest of the series, come back here once you are done.


Okay, now that that is done...

It is six years ago now that The Sopranos aired the final episode and it was brilliant.
There was an immediate out-pouring of confusion and anger at the ambiguous ending, but it was that ambiguity that was part of the brilliance.
David Chase gave the audience an ending that, if the demand for more Sopranos - an additional season, a movie, you name it - was great enough that it could be taken out of mothballs and the cast's demands could be met (all of which was unlikely, but was discussed publicly) the story could be taken up, with the interpretation of the end being something to the effect of the tension & paranoia of that final scene is a reflection of how Tony will have to live the rest of his life.  (Yawn... wasn't that paranoia why Tony was having panic attacks in the pilot episode?  Chase is a better story teller than that.) However, if you were paying attention to the show - both that scene as well as the previous few seasons - it was fairly easy to deconstruct the true ending.  And now that James Gandolfini is dead, that IS the real ending forever and ever amen.
Like Mr. Gandolfini, Tony has left us.
It is actually quite simple.
For seasons (without going back to re-watch and check, I'm going to say "three seasons") we were told several times some variation on "You never hear the bullet that gets you."  And really, it doesn't take much more than that to parse the ending.  However, if you must... break down the scene in the diner - we keep getting shots of the door from Tony's point of view, the ten seconds of black... that is Tony's POV too.
I expect that someone somewhere has detailed far more completely than I have - some people were really fanatic about that show, and would have taken that end apart like a forensic investigator.  They could probably tell you which customer at the diner pulled the trigger.  I don't know that that even matters.

One last point - this interpretation has been attacked (to my face) by the argument that "The show is called The Sopranos.  It is about Tony Soprano.  If he died, they would show it.  They would HAVE to show it!"  Uh... no.  The show is called The Sopranos.  It is about Tony Soprano.  He is the main character.  It is HIS story.  When he is dead, the story ends - abruptly and with far more art than showing it would have had.  If they had shown it, obviously we wouldn't still be having this debate.  If they had shown it, it wouldn't have been an ending worth discussing.

Rest in Peace James.  

Your greatest work will remain secure as it was intended to be.

A bit of a ramble on Nirvana

It was the 19th anniversary of Kurt Cobain's suicide this past week. Jodie asked me whether Nirvana or Pearl Jam has been more important to me.
It isn't really a linearly equal question. She did know this.
Obviously Pearl Jam has had an opportunity that Nirvana never had - that of longevity. But beyond that, my discovery of the two bands was, naturally, unequal.
In April of 1992 at a party my friend Ian mentioned that he has been listening to a band called Pearl Jam. I saw the Evenflow video soon thereafter and bought the album. I enjoyed it, but it did not immediately change my life. In two months time I would be on tour myself with the Juanabees and Ten would get left behind - only to be championed later that summer by fans (of both Pearl Jam and the Juanabees) in my home town. It was then that PJ would take permanent hold in my aural aesthetic.
Meanwhile on a transcendental plane...
Nirvana on the other hand came to my attention quite spectacularly a month or more after Pearl Jam, and it was a moment I have previously chronicled where "everything changed."
The Juanabees paid comical tribute to Smells Like Teen Spirit on that tour and Nevermind was in high rotation in the tour van.
But as huge a comparative impact Nirvana had on me that summer, by mid-autumn Pearl Jam had out paced them in my heart and, without diminishing my enduring appreciation for Nirvana, we've never looked back.
The question arises, of course; what would have become of Nirvana had its trajectory not been abbreviated?
Well, who knows?
Obviously, at the time we were unaware that there was a visionary lurking in the ranks of Nirvana whose talent may have out shone Cobain. We don't have a lot to go on, but the growth from Bleach to In Utero was comparatively nominal. The best of tracks on the bookends would not have raised the high water mark of Nevermind by much. Which does speak to consistency, but not necessarily favourably.
Meanwhile, while Ten was a spectacular album, Vs managed to be even better and Vitalogy it's equal while for the first time truly showcasing the band's need to serve their own artistic needs, not merely the expectations of their audience. Beyond that point it becomes hard to compare. Would the raw soul-baring post-punk aesthetic of Cobain mature, or would it prove to be his one gift? Could Dave Grohl have blossomed in that circumstance and brought new depth to Nirvana, or was it necessary for him to find his own place, as in reality he did fronting the Foo Fighters? Could Krist Novoselic, surrounded by that much talent have become more than a lucky dabbler? Or was he always destined for political life, perhaps some one else might have filled his shoes. Hey, Pearl Jam got Matt Cameron behind the kit after a run of drummers that rivalled Spinal Tap. Almost any band could benefit from his presence. Imagine a universe where Les Claypool joined Nirvana. Geez... There is a combination of these factors where Kurt Cobain is the least talented member of the alternate reality Nirvana.
Okay, now lets get silly and add Trent Reznor and Mike Doughty to the line up... Fuck... Now THAT is a supergroup I'd pay to see.

Witnessing Christmas in Your Eyes

Merry Christmas, Padawan.

This is Christmas number three for you.

The first time you were three months old, and generally speaking I don't think you even noticed.  Sure there were sparkly lights and about a week straight of lots of extra people and yummy smells around, but you hardly had any context whatsoever and you did a lot of sleeping.  It was a joy to have you around for Christmas, but you weren't really experiencing the joy.

Last year you were definitely interested in the stuff around you.  You liked the tree.  You hated going to see Santa Claus (so much so, that this year I made your Mum take her turn to take you for Santa pictures).  You definitely got into the spirit of opening presents - including a few that weren't yours, of course.  But still, I don't really think you had a sense of Christmas.

All that has changed this year though.  You are still pretty unclear as to what Christmas is, but you sure are enjoying it.  You love wrapping presents.  I don't know if you've quite figured out that there is a consequent opening of them - it seems to me that once kids have that figured out, its all you can do to stop them from either exploding with anticipation or just giving in and opening them prematurely.  (I guess that is next year.)  You adore the tree.  Both of them.  You have your own little one up out of reach on your dresser in your room.  You've also enjoyed helping decorate Grandma Van's tree, and Karen and Mollie's tree.  You do a little bit of redecoration of our tree EVERY day.

You love the Christmas Market at Queen Elizabeth Plaza.  Mostly you like the carousel, but I think even if there were no carousel you'd still want to go in every time we pass it.  You and I have been there an average of twice a weeks since it opened.  I think we had our last trip there today - I don't know where we'll find the time in the next four days.

Yesterday it snowed and we went out into it to go and see the old Woodward's window displays set up around town.  There were a lot of Christmas trees too - you loved that.  The weather was pretty unpleasant, truth be told.  It was not a fun show.  It was a cold, wet snow.  Pretty much rain with an attitude.  It looked pretty in the air, but as soon as it touched the ground it was a yucky slush. Yesterday was the day hot chocolate was made for.  (You love hot chocolate.)  But despite the weather you loved it.  You were totally game and even when we had to double back twice to see displays we'd missed the first time, you didn't care.

You love wrapping presents.  You enjoy putting tape on things.  Never where it will be useful, but what's the need for that?  You also like drawing on tags and cards.  Note I didn't say "signing" - though I'm pretty sure that no one who gets a gift from you will have any doubt who they are receiving the present from.

You love "The Ginch" (sic) and also Rudolf - whose last name it seems is "Withyournosesobright," if one is to ask you.  You haven't asked to watch Shrek all month!

You have figured out that when Christmas comes you are going to get a whole day of "Nana, and Papa, and Grandma Van, and Karen and Mollie, and Tara, and K.C., and Mum, and Pop and December," and you are very excited by it.

You look forward to your Jacquie Lawson advent calendar (and your Lindt advent calendar, for that matter) every night.

Oh Padawan.  You have only scratched the surface.  You haven't even had turkey dinner yet or a New Year's Eve party.  And of course, the real discovery of the true spirit of Christmas, the gift of giving GETTING STUFF!

It wasn't really why we called you December, but you appear to be embracing this season with all you've got.  That's a good thing, 'cause inevitably you are going to be associated with it for your entire life.

It Has Been a Strange Week to Be a Parent

Anyone old enough to read this already has a rough picture of what happened this week in Conneticut.  So, as with most posts lately this is not for you, this is for December, my daughter.
I was looking forward to writing tonight.  I was planning to write and tell you about how you, December, are reacting to Christmas.  (It's pretty fun to watch.)  Perhaps I will do it later this week.

Your Mum has been sick this week.  Friday we sent you off to daycare so that she could get a full day of rest.  You are at an age where you are an inevitable handful.  Most of the time that is delightful, but you have no off-switch.  What two-year old does?

For my day I headed out the door early for work, looking forward to a day of news filled with reviews I expected to support my expectations of The Hobbit - beautifully designed, but why the hell is this slim book going to be 9 hours or so of cinema?  And for the most part, that is what the reviews have been... but by lunch I had noticed my first warning.  A single Facebook post that read "Turn it off.  Go outside."  It first I interpreted it as a run-of-the-mill, "don't spend too much time in front of the TV" manifesto.  By the time I began eating, scrolling through my feed, it was clear - something terrible had happened somewhere.  The specifics were then still forming, but the basics were clear - a young man had taken a gun into an elementary school and started shooting... children, adults, he didn't seem to care, but mostly it was children.  Young children.
It turned into a dark day pretty quickly.  I actually avoided anymore news.  I just wasn't ready.  I put out some angry words about the NRA, 'cause it was as close as I could allow myself to get, and forged on through my day.

Before I was a parent, I used to get so angry at the oft heard sentiment "unless you are a parent, you just can't understand."  It is a pretty condescending thought.  "WTF?  Are you saying I can't possibly have the depth it takes to reach that level of compassion or empathy?  Well, fuck you."  Well here I am, a parent.  What I am going to say is this; "Before I was a parent, I didn't have that capacity.  It didn't turn on the moment of birth.  It developed over these past two years - and has noticeably kicked in harder in the past nine months or so.  I'm sure it has more developing to do.  But yes, after I became a parent, everything changed."

When I picked you up from daycare on Friday, I gave you the biggest hug I've ever given you.  It wasn't the longest or the squeeziest, but it came from a place I previously did not know.  A place of immense gratitude that you were coming home with me.  That you would be safe in bed that night.  That you were going to have Christmas.  And, if you'll forgive me for being so willfully maudlin, that I can't imagine how I would manage to carry on if anything were to ever happen to you.

(NOTE from a year later - just for context, this post was written in response to the Sandy Hook shootings.)

730 Days Hath December

Hello Padawan,

I just put you down for your last nap of being one.  The next time you lay down for a mid-afternoon snooze, you will be two.
So now its time for me to fail at being profound in a birthday(ish) address.

A year and one week ago your Mum went back to work and my life changed in a way that was nearly as profound as when you were born.  All of a sudden I became your primary care-giver (though only by a small margin).  I stay home with you three days out of most weeks.  Your Mum takes you on weekends, while Mondays and Fridays you go to day care while I do various wage earning things.  Mostly due to your own demands and requirements your Mum still does more hands on care than I do when we are both home, but you will quit breast feeding relatively soon, and that should make a big difference.

Now, while I have been game for this fatherhood thing from the get-go, I willingly admit that there are things I've been more actively looking forward to than others.  I knew that diaper changing was something I was just going to have to grudgingly live with and that was that.  (But you are potty-training now, so while I have yet to see the light at the end of that tunnel, we can no longer look back and see where we came in.)  I don't relish the thought of having to counsel you through the rough parts of interacting with other kids.  (That has begun.  Just last week you had a run in with a young lady in the building who simply doesn't know how to play nice with other kids.  It made me so fucking angry.  (Please don't speak like that until at least high-school, okay?  And even then, choose your moments based on a combination of respect and effect - we'll discuss the intricacies of that in years to come, a series of conversations I actually am very curious about, if not outright looking forward to.)  Boys... yeah - that may be rough on me, but we shall see.  (Hey, remind me when you are old enough, we should watch Castle - the father daughter relationship there is about as good as a man can dream of, we can both probably gain something from it together.)
I've enjoyed so many of the stages you've already gone through, but in many cases the greatest delight was fleeting and quickly left to memory.  I know you are going to spend the rest of your life being reminded of how you said your name for the first time along Riva dei Sette Martiri in Venice, for example.  But you've recently reached a stage that I've been actively looking forward to from the beginning, and it is a stage that is going to gradually morph into another stage I've been looking forward to.  You've begun voicing your own ideas - somewhat mis-shapen ideas, often due to your grasp of the building blocks of language - but delightful because of that.



The other day we were talking about going camping and when I asked you how long you were going camping for, you declared "two minutes and one time."  A week or two back you were asked who your friends were.  The first time, your answer was "Mummy and Daddy and Karen and Mollie," but when asked again (in hopes of a repeat performance) we were in formed that your friends were "Frogs.... and bunnies."  Often on weekends when I come home from work you tell me about some part of your day.  I rarely pick up more than the obliquest of details, but I can usually identify some major aspect of what happened (more often than not, that you went to a "big park.")  From here you will gradually develop the ability to tell me more and in more precise detail, we'll fly through the glory and embarassment of "the mouths of babes" stage, and before too long we will be having conversations and debates on an equal footing.  I look forward to all of this and more.

We've also reached a stage where when we play I can pick you up and roll around with you without my primary job being to protect you (though there is still a lot of that going on).  You are a much more active participant in our rough-housing and it is always one of my favourite part of my days.  It is still growing, but at the same time I see how it will slip-away.  You get bigger every day, and while I have gotten stonger to accomodate that, the tale of the boy who became the strongest man in the world by lifting a baby bull every day of it's life is a myth.  You get bigger and I get older (and though it rankles me to admit it, I am past my physical prime) and as you become more work to play hard with, my stamina will gradually slip away, and bit by bit without even noticing it happening we will lose those playful delights.  But I swear to you that I will always do everything in my ability to play those games we create for as long as you will have me as your playmate.

Tomorrow we start year three, and though today doesn't look very different at this end, I look forward to looking back in a year and seeing how much your world has grown.

Love your Pop.



P.S. I just checked, and as of this afternoon, "Three Minutes of December" is over half a day of continuous viewing!

The Truth & Signal Top Films List 2012

Perhaps you've heard about the Sight and Sound Top Films List?

It keeps on cycling back into my life over this past month. It got an awful lot of attention this year (they actually only compile it every ten years) as for the first time since 1952, Citizen Kane was not the number one film. This year the number one was Vertigo.

Naturally this kind of list gets me thinking about my own experience with film. What are my favourite films? What films have had the biggest impact upon me? What movies have I watched over and over again and felt like the well was endless?

So I decided to make my own list. Mine isn't 100 films. I limited myself to 11. I tried to do 10, but I simply couldn't leave one of the 11 I whittled it down to off the final list. My list is not numerated. There is not a number one. The most important - the "most essential" - films in my life.

Only one of my films is on the Sight and Sound list.

Six of the eight directors who I have declared I will watch (but not necessarily enjoy) anything they do are represented - one of them twice.

Only one silent film. Only one foreign language film. 

I am reasonably certain that there isn't a film on my list that I have seen less than 20 times (which is probably why there isn't a film newer than a decade old the list - indeed only one since the turn of the century.)

These aren't necessarily my favourite films (see next note), they are the films that I have found to be the ones I felt compelled to watch the most (Beast of Bottomless Lake excluded for obvious reasons).

For years I have named five specific films as my favourites of all time. They are on the list, but only because as I considered the films that should be on the list those five kept coming up for all the reasons that the other six films did. So they got there honestly. If I were to name my favourite 10 or 11 films probably three or four of the films on this list would fall off. Perhaps I'll make that list some day, but I think by having a pretty solid top 5, I've kind of already done that.

Lastly, before I move on to my top 11 most essential films.... Citizen Kane v. Vertigo? For me it's Vertigo all the way. Spoiler alert - it doesn't make my list. I think it's a fantastic film. But if I were picking a Hitchcock film it would be Rear Window. I've never managed to get through Citizen Kane in a single sitting without falling asleep. I think that speaks volumes.

So, without any further futzing... The Truth & Signal Top (11) Films of All Time for 2012:

(In chronological order of release.)

The General - 1926
I went through a BIG Buster Keaton phase in my late 20s. While a few people would call Sherlock Jr. their favourite Keaton film, there are virtually none who know what they are talking about who would deny that The General is a masterpiece. I hardly know where to start. It is a whopping adventure, and Keaton is spectacular in his stunt-work. Watch any of the action sequences and they actually challenge action sequences of today for their excitement, largely because most of them are single un-cut takes. It features the most expensive shot in film history (for its day) and it manages to tell it's tale with less than fifty title cards. (Trust me. I've watched a lot of silent film. For a feature, that is amazing.) Keaton's most famous single stunt (and shot) may be in Steamboat Bill Jr. but for prolonged sequences, The General is the show to see. Of all the films on this list it is the one it has been the longest since I've watched it... that will probably be rectified soon.
FUN FACT: The General (which is the one film on my list that is also on the Sight & Sound list) was a box office failure when it came out. Keaton was known for comedies. The General is an adventure. He may have made his best film, but it wasn't what audiences were used to seeing from him. It took decades for people to respond favourably to that disconnect. Those who still haven't still think Sherlock Jr. is the superior film.

The Great Escape - 1963
This is probably the hardest film to defend on this list. Jodie has never made it past the introduction to the camp - which is too bad, because the best is yet to come... however, I don't think that much of the rest would change her mind. Admittedly, it is a film that is populated about 99.6% by men, and it takes a lot of criticism for that. But a lot of that would be a result of the fact that it was men who were on the ground in the 2nd World War. 
FUN FACT: If you listen to the commentary of the collector's edition of the film, there is a point where they address this fact and mention that the producers wanted to shoehorn some women into the movie in the most cynical of ways and that the director, John Sturges, put his foot down. 
Why do I love this film? Because it's clever and fun and tragic. I suspect that a lot of my aesthetic came from that juxtoposition. "Hey this is all jaunty, but a lot of despair can come from it... and that despair might actually be a victory in its own right."
And sure Steve McQueen's motorcycle stunts are lame by modern standards as well as being historically inaccurate, but I've never found them to be any less cool (and, hey - its a movie, not a history lesson).

Jaws - 1975
Jaws was already over two decades old by the time I saw it (oh yeah, I saw it later than all but three movies on this list) because I had been the perfect age to get the message (when it came out) that it was the most terrifying thing a person could see on screen. Yet despite all that build up, it survived. It was my friend Keith's favourite film and I finally gave in in 1997 and watched the damned thing. And it is a masterwork of storytelling. All other aspects aside, whenever I go back and rewatch it, it is the parcelling out of information that stands out to me as being the most fantastic element of the film. Each sub-element of stakes and character is revealed at exactly the right moment until action has to happen - and all of that occurs with the weight of the set up on top of it. Face it, the film doesn't even need the shark until 82 minutes into the film. It is that well crafted. Spielberg was the first director who I ever knew the name of. He is probably the most important director of my life, even if I'm generally less fond of his work these days.

Star Wars - 1977
There is simply no way this film cannot be on my list. It is flawed. The sequels are flawed. (Though Empire Strikes Back is the superior film of the bunch.) But there is no film I have watched more times and there is no film which directed the course of my life so much, nor from such a young age. It is still a lot of fun. Most of what I get out of it now is nostalgic, sure I have mostly contempt for what George Lucas did to the second/first three films, but it had to be on this list.

Alien - 1979
I doubt that this was the first film that ever scared me, but it absolutely is the first one that left an indelible mark. I first saw it at a birthday sleep over when I was about 12 and it scared the bejesus out of me. We ended up watching it again the next morning too. I've never really quit. The first sequel would probably make it's way onto my top 20 list. The 3rd installment has some terrible early CGI, but isn't that bad a film - and importantly was the first feature of the only director to appear twice on this list. And unlike Ridley Scott's other big early masterpiece, Blade Runner, it doesn't feel dated. (Yes, I did just say that.) Scott is one of the six directors on this list whose work I will give a chance to at any turn. His latest, Prometheus - the prequel to Alien - was rough, but ultimately it was gorgeous and it passed the "Did it entertain me?" test, despite its faults. (Which I can't say about the fourth Alien film - which I rarely acknowledge the existence of, so bookmark this page - or the AVP spin off.)

Das Boot - 1981
I first saw Das Boot when it was still called The Boat on these shores and only ran around 2 hours in length. I had snuck out of my bedroom in the wee-hours of a pay-TV free movie weekend to see what was on. I didn't actually know what it was I was watching because I had missed the beginning. (It would be some years before I would discover that I had only missed a few minutes, though I did figure out what it was I was watching that very night.) Nonetheless I was enthralled pretty much right from the start. It was likely the first subtitled film I ever watched through to the end. I saw it once or twice between then and the mid 90s when I really sunk my teeth into the Director's Cut and since then have watched it nearly annually (though parenthood is putting a dent in that average.) I even bought the full 5 hour version. I've only watched it at full length twice, and probably never will again (well maybe once more in many years time) as it doesn't really add much to the superior 3+ hours cut. To this day I still find the tension of certain sequences to be such that I feel like I can't afford to blink. Wolfgang Peterson is another director whose work I will always give a chance to.

Goodfellas - 1991
Much like with Das Boot I started unwittingly watching Goodfellas in the opening few minutes and was instantly hooked. The film is a clinic. It is outrageous that Martin Scorsese took another 15 years (and several worthy contenders) to finally win the Best Picture Oscar. Goodfellas (and to a lesser degree Casino) are the films that put the lie to the rule that voice-over makes for a bad screenplay. That is a pretty good hueristic, but it simply isn't a universal truth. There isn't really anything that hasn't been said about this film that I can add. It's fantastic. The four leads each give some of the most important performances of their careers, the pacing is spot-on, the music could not do a better job of both moving the film forward and placing it in time (after time after time), and the camera work is as close to flawless as any film gets. (Insert ubiquitous reference to Karen's introduction to the Copa here.) And yes, I'll watch any Scorsese film once.

Seven - 1995
Another film that breaks the voice-over rule, albeit only for one line. I'm not sure it needed to, and it's probably the only weak choice in the movie. I first saw Seven (or "Se7en" if you insist on being a wanker) on a last moment whim. I was on my way to see The Shawshank Redemption when the poster for Seven caught my eye. The friend I was with, Todd, suggested we take a chance and see this film we'd never heard of instead. BEST MOVIE GOING CHOICE EVER. (It took me nearly a decade to get around to seeing Shawshank. A great film, but I've only felt the need to watch it once.) When the film was over, Todd and I sat for about two minutes in silence after the credits were over before either one of us spoke. I can count the number of times on one hand that a movie has made me feel like I've never seen anything like it before, and the only film that ever made me feel that way that isn't on this list is The Matrix. The fact that two of those films were directed by David Fincher is pretty much why he is my favourite director of all time.
On a side note, only one other time have I changed my choice of viewing at last moment based on a poster. I ended up seeing Hardware instead of Miller's Crossing. WORST MOVIE GOING CHOICE EVER.

LA Confidential - 1997
For my money, the best crime drama ever told. I can't even recall at which turn in the plot I spontaneously cried out in the theatre "what the fuck is going on?!" The woman beside me whispered "Yeah. Isn't it fantastic?" Damned rights it was. The plot-lines which spin-around each other towards the abyss; the cast that is populated by a host of characters (mostly police officers) who are each in their own way terrible people (and variously bad cops) but all thoroughly compelling; the fact that most audience members were seeing both Russell Crowe and Guy Pearce for the first time and not having the slightest clue they were Aussies; the pitch perfect scenic design and matching camera-work; and a plot which seems so insanely convoluted, yet comes out being perfectly clear and seemingly inevitable....  sigh; it is so frikkin' good. If it hadn't come out the same year as Titanic it would have cleaned up at the Oscars.
I went on to read the book, which is now one of my favourite books of all time, and discovered that the screenplay is even more brilliant than it at first seems. James Elroy - the novel's author - declared the book un-adaptable. It is a miracle he was wrong. The book and film could not be much more different, yet satisfyingly still be the same story. I could not concisely sum up how without giving far too much of either one away.

Fight Club - 1999
David Fincher is of course one of the directors whose work is on this list whose movies I will always see. Fight Club is probably the best example of a film which spoke directly to who I was when I saw it when it came out, and on top of that, it's a ripping great yarn. This was the first time we really got to see Fincher put his technical savvy front and centre... and the fact that the script and his cast manage to not get upstaged by it is why this is such a fantastic film. Again, this is a film which can't be talked about much and really just needs to be experienced. If forced to make a Sophie's choice and pick one of my top five films of all time as my number one, I could make the choice a different way on any different day, but I think the smart money would be on Fight Club.

Memento - 2000
Memento backs its way onto this list, but I don't mean that in any way which lessens the film that it is. When I was considering my criteria - the  "most essential" films" I watched over and over again and felt like the well was endless," Memento fit the bill at least as well as two or three others on this list that popped to mind immediately as contenders without considering the criteria as the determining factor. I have analysed the living shit out of Memento. I watched it in the edited order (of course) and even before I had a DVD copy with the option to watch the events in chronological order I did so - on VHS, which took some doing. Christopher Nolan is the most recent director to work his way onto the list of directors who work I will always see. Memento probably isn't even his best film. But it is the one that worked it's fingers deepest inside of me.


Some clean up:

So, for the record, who are those eight directors whose work I will always see?

Spielberg, Fincher, Scorsese, Peterson, Scott (the Elder), and Nolan - all on this list. As well as, the Coen Brothers (Who I am counting as one as they do not work without one another, and for me have the widest range of hits and misses of directors on this list, erring towards misses, but damned interesting ones.) and Steven Soderberg (Whose work I probably have the worst record of actually seeing - largely due to the manner of release of his lesser known work.)

What came close?

Its a long list, but three films stand out as movies that I really have rewatched at length:
Brazil (Though I suspect that if I was going to add it, I would have by now.)
Primer (Though in the grand scheme of things I watched it a LOT to try to untangle its compellingly fascinating and complex plot, not to re-appreciate the quality of the film itself. It's kind of a false positive. I figure this is the most obscure film on the list.)
Children of Men (I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that the main reason it didn't make the list is that it hasn't been out long enough for me to watch it enough times to really earn it a place. Given some more time for consideration, I think there is a real chance that it will either un-seat a film on the list, or earn it's own place on a list of 12. Perhaps I shall do it all again when the Sight and Sound 2022 list is published.)

Of course there are many many films that I LOVE and with different parameters, many of them could have made the list instead of these, but I believe there is a need in this realm of discussion to ask how important these films are in my life and that is different than how beloved they are to me (though there is some overlap).