THURSDAY MORNING EXORCISM BLUES
(a non-literal, non-linear translation)
by David R. Lister
1 EXT. - WHITEY'S BLOOZE BAR - NIGHT 1
COVER SHOT: Its a seedy little dive wedged between two
abandoned storefronts on a dimly-lit street on a seamy side
of town. A neon sign proclaims: WHITEYS BLOOZE BAR.
Establish. "WHITEYS," the letter "L," and "BAR" FLASH off
and on while the letters spelling "BOOZE" remain lit. The
cycle continues. A couple of REGULARS ENTER the shot and go
into the bar.
2 INT. WHITEYS BLOOZE BAR SAME 2
COVER SHOT: The couple of Regulars ENTER, taking a table
among the small, lethargic group of other REGULARS (mostly
five-dollar-women and two-dollar-men) who are already nursing
shots and beers in this dirty, smoke-filled room. They sit
at small tables, sipping and smoking with little to say.
Some couples, some loners. They sit in the dark, backlit by
a spotlight that beams on a modest stage (center-screen,
BG). WHITEY ENTERS and plops down two beers and a bowl of
pretzels in front of the unresponsive couple who just arrived.
Then he steps up to the microphone on-stage. Whitey is a
cheesy man who talks around a cheap stogie. The Regulars are
Before I intrduce tonights act,
just a reminder: Them pretzels aint
t leave this bar less ther aready
in yer gullet. Kay? Yer breakfast
aint on me, ya know...,
Yeah, up yers, Whitey!
Kay, nuff said.
MS: Whitey continues.