Comedy?
Michelle already described the writing assignment we did tonight. I followed mostly the same instructions as everybody else (I used an earlier rule and destroyed the cardboard that I got in the handoff after I'd written on my hand), but my evening turned out a little differently than the rest. First, my scene never really became comic or action. Second, it was interrupted by a really interesting conversation. But first, what I did write:
Three things that I wrote on my hand from the cardboard I received:
- strangers are the only ones you can trust
- extensive knowledge of local architecture
- all come at the same time
[street outside restaurant. Main Street. Jack and Henrey exit from within. Jack is young and wearing black-pants, turtleneck, nice shoes. Henry is old and wearing grey pants plust a yellow sweater. They are wealthy.]
Henry: I told him that he'd gone too far. He doesn't have a job. He lives out of his car. All he cares about is getting drunk on other people's booze. So when he started breaking things in my living room--maliciously, this was no accident--I told him he was no longer welcome. No more drinking at my house. No more parties. No more passing out on my couch...
Jack: Look at the dental work on this house.
Henry: Huh?
Jack: Just look at it. The current paint job obscures the details, I know. But if it were properly highlighted it would really be stunning. You can tell by the spacing between the blocks that this house represents an acrhitectural shift--a sort of melting pot--between an Earlier Victorian style that never made it quite this far west and a more modern Arts and Crafts look.
Henry: What are you talking about?
Jack: The dentals.
[A woman passes them, walking quickly. She is wearing a camo hunting jacket, carrying a digital camera, and smoking. She bumps into Jack's shoulder.]
Jack: Excuse me.
Henry: This town is full of hicks.
Jack do you really not know what dentas are?
Henry: I know when they're in my mouth.
Jack: They're the regularly spaced pieces of wood set under an eve. Think crown-molding but outside and broken into chunks.
Henry: Whetever.
[Woman passes them again walki]
And that was when the man who inspired the woman character (the description is the same, I only made the character a woman to fulfill the gender requirement for the script) stopped and asked me if I was writing a letter. He proceeded to tell me that he was a poet and we had a long conversation about writing and his life, ending in me getting a disk of his poetry. He was a really neat guy, not a mean hick, as Henry supposed. I'm still trying to get over the sad details of his life the absolutely brilliant moments in our conversation.