It’s day. But what day? GOD! My head hurts. Who hit me with a sledgehammer? It appears to be about three in the afternoon. Ahhh, yes. The Cherry Blossom for lunch. That was a mistake. Did I even eat lunch? What the hell does Phat put in those Mai Tai’s? Opium? I swear there’s opium in them. How many did I have? I think I had five. They’re supposed to shut you off at two. Yeah, oookay! They told me that three years ago.

There’s nothing like having your own business when you have my work ethic. It REALLY pays off. Isn’t there supposed to be someone answering my phone? Isn’t there supposed to be a woman of about 200 pounds putting that chair in the front office to the test? Excuse me, I mean the reception area. Reception area? What the hell does that mean? Is someone going to have a party out there? Has there ever been a party out there? There’s a party going on in my head and it’s not over.

Chapter One

*enter text here*

[edit on 21-2-2008 by Excitable_Boy]

Screen Play, no title, input welcome! Collaborate, add, change...

Opening scene...
Desert landscape, tumbleweeds tumbeling, dust, wind, dirtroad, two guys in a pickup headed into the sunset.....

Virgil...What was all that about Bob? Are you drunk or just stupid?

Bob...I really don't need you raggin on me Virgil...that chick Ramona...something's just not right with that...did you see her eyes? I think that she's a witch or shamana, Curandera. I could feel her power and it's just not right; maybe not evil but somehow...bad...

Virgil...Oh please...that website you are on all the damn time has warped your perception of reality. She was just like anyother hot tomato you find in the bars around these parts...tryin to act mysterious so you will hang around and buy her another Corona or Screwdriver and she sucked you in
huh?....What's that upahead, funny lights flashing like that, maybe it's the cops.....



[edit on 23-2-2008 by whaaa]

*Okay so MY opening scene was actually the pre-opening scene. The story will be going back and forth from the writer of the story to the story....*

Bob: That don't look like no cop lights I've ever seen before. I tell you it's that crazy broad from the bar. She's inside my head and screwin' up my life!

Virgil: Dude....you've been screwing your life up mighty fine on your own. You don't need no crazy voodoo mamas from the bars around here to help you with that...

Bob: Pull off the road and bushwack it for a while. I don't like them lights. I gotta funny feeling about this

Virgil: (lighting a joint.....taking a long drag and passes it to his friend) What you need is a little of this. Maybe them lights will turn out to be little green men from Mars (laughs like a lunatic)

Bob: Pull off the road already (takes a long drag on the joint). This isn't funny man. I have a bad case of the willies...

Virgil: (pulling off the main road and heading out into the desert) You know Bob....Bobby, you need to RELAX. Maybe if you weren't hopped up on speed all the time you might actually be able to stand being in your own skin ocassionally. How much sleep you get last night?

Bob: I didn't sleep last night....

[edit on 23-2-2008 by Excitable_Boy]

(back to the office of the writer)

Ramona. My secretary, ooops excuse me, I mean administrative assistant will like that I used her name in this story. I hope she at least left some coffee on before she skipped out on me. YES! Coffee.....it's muddy but it's hot. What's with all the political correctness going on today. God it gets tiring.....for instance: Ramona is Latin American (not a Spic), she is weight challenged (not a cow) and she has hygeine issues (she smells). Why do I even need her? I guess without her, it would be just me and who would I have to aggravate besides myself?

I once needed her when I was busy. When I was writing two novels a year and still managing to write magazine articles and short stories. The phone used to ring off the hook here. Now.......

The reality of this situation is, I can't write anymore. It's gone. I have made some money over the years, even had one of my stories made into a movie. A BAD movie, but a movie. The wife left what seems like an awful long time ago and we had no kids.....so it's just me. Me and my ability to do nothing....oh, and Ramona, the Latin-American, weight and hygeine challenged administrative assistant.

Two guys in a desert? It's been done. Thelma and Louise! Okay...that's two gals in the desert, but they were lesbians, so they were almost men, right? But seriously, guys in the desert, flashing lights, creepy feelings....blah blah blah. This needs to be different, otherwise I'm just spinning my wheels like I've been doing for the past five years or so.

(goes to the mini refridgerator and grabs a Miller High Life.....screws off the cap and takes a big pull.....drinks half the beer) Ahhhh.....the champagne of beers! I KNOW! I need to go out in the desert and write this story. I need to be there. I need to feel what my characters are feeling. Oh hell, I just need to get out of this depressing office.

(Goes over to the desk in the front office, grabs a piece of paper and starts writing)

Ramona,

You're officially fired. I will pay you until the end of the month. Steal whatever you want on your way out and please make sure you lock up after.

Regards,

RJ

(Rusty heads out the door....forgets to lock it, heads down to the lobby and exits out the back door. The office is in a nice old building, in the city. It's the kind of building and office Sam Spade had or would have had.)

The Mercedes should be up for this ride. It's been begging for a long road trip. This car was made for driving. Fast! For long periods of time while listening to great music. Old music.

(Rusty starts the car and immediately an old song begins on the cd player: Jerry and The Pacemakers -

"When you walk through a storm
hold your head up high and
don't be afraid of the dark

At the end of a storm
there's a golden sky and
the sweet silver song of her love

walk out through the wind
walk out thru the rain............"

the whole song plays as the opening credits play across the screen. Rusty is being watched from not too high above as he works his way through the city to the Mass Pike in his convertible. He's on a mission...)

(note to self: Contact Robert Downey Jr.'s people. He needs to play the main character.

[edit on 24-2-2008 by Excitable_Boy]

* Hey, I'm looking for collaboration here. I say get into the story and each person takes 300 miles west. I started in Boston...the next person takes it 300 miles from there....and then the next 300 miles, etc. I was planning on having him settle some place in Arizona, but it can be someplace else.......just CONTRIBUTE!! *


I know. I'll do 300 miles every day and crash somewhere. I'll keep doing that until I find some place to settle down, at least for a little while. Does the Pike even go for 300 miles? I guess I'm going to find out.

I can't believe I didn't put the top down. I need to stop some place soon, put the top down and grab some supplies. I guess I'll even take a piss. As they say here in Massachusetts: that would be "pissa." There's one of those highway rest areas with the wonderful restaurants like Popeye's and MacDonald's not too far ahead. I'll get out the laptop too and see what's about 300 miles from Boston and find a decent place to stay.

(Rusty opens up a plastic bin full of cds and grabs one of many home-made ones with nothing written on them. He grabs one. It could be anything. He pops it the cd player.....and:

Excellent choice Mr. James.

(Concrete Blonde starts playing....a rare unplugged version of Joey. The camera changes to a behind view of Rusty driving down the highway listening to the song and it goes to overhead and further behind......the song ends just as the rest stop is in sight)

[edit on 28-2-2008 by Excitable_Boy]

Rusty slips the 280sl into a close spot, openers th door and shakes off the road dust.

Rusty thinks out loud; Please Jesus, don't let that bum even say aword to me.

Bum... did you watch lou dobbs tonite? Middle class is toast. You Mercedes drivers are soon gonna have to ride bicycles.

Rusty...Yeah old man, I'll still be way ahead of you.

bum...bullshi# kid, only the healthy people gonna be able to walk, ride bicycle or horses. And by the way the whites of your eyes look....you might have a week till you puke up your guts and die from the virus.

Bum....Are you happy now that you can watch your life click away on that Rolex.

Bum... I been eating lots of red chili and peanut butter so I won't have to suffer, plus I been stashing me enought 714s to sleep the finial sleep when the times comes. What are you gonna do squire? Make a mess with that .38? In the end don't really make no never mind what tool you use to check out. You might as well open a vein with a piece of broken glass.

Rusty...Well you stinking old bum why don't you ride along with me for the next few miles until you bore the **** out of me and I throw you out. hop in.

(it's not a 280 SL......it's a 600. The V12....)

The bum gets in the car. That's when his aroma really hit me.

[edit on 29-2-2008 by Excitable_Boy]

So the stinkin ole bum slides into the leather seats of the Benz, leans his head back and begins to speak.....

son...have you ever heard pf the tale of the green isle in the sea?

The Benz slides out into the traffic headed west....

the bum starts his drunken ramble...

One sweet morning in the year of our lord, ninteen hundred and thirth nine a little old gentleman got up and threw wide the windows of his bedroom letting in the living sun. A black widow spider, who had been dosing on the balcony, slashed at him and although she missed, she did not miss verry far. The old genteleman went downstairs to the dining room and was jus sitting down to a splendid breakfast when his grandson, a boy named Virgil, pulled the chair from under him. The old mans hip was strained but it was fortunately not broken.

Out in the street as he limped toward a little park with many trees which was to him a green isle in the sea , the old man was tripped up by a skate board sent rolling at him with a kind of disinterested deliberation, by a grim little boy. Hobbling on a block farther, the old man was startled but not exactly surprised when a bold daylight robber stuck a pistol in his ribs. "put em up asshole." said the robber, and give me your ****** money. The old man came across with his watch, money and a gold ring his mother had given him when he was a boy.

When at last the old genteleman staggered into the little park which had been to him a fountain and a shrine, he saw that half the trees had been killed by a blight and the other half by a bug. Their leaves were gone and they no longer afforded any protection from the skies, so that the hundred planes wich appeared suddenly overhead had an excllent view of the little old gentleman through thier bombing sites.

the bum slid into a deep slumber and the driver wiped a tear from his one brown eye. as the miles rolled under the michilins.


[edit on 1-3-2008 by whaaa]

With the top down, I can't smell this bum so much. Especially at this speed. The laptop was no help at the rest stop. I couldn't get a signal. No signal, no internet.

That's cool. I'll just wing it. Throw caution to the wind. Hell, I'm giving this bum a ride. He could be some crazed mass murderer for Christ's sake. Hopefully, there is only one person in possession of a gun is this car and that's me.

You know, I look at this bum and think that could easily be me. I sometimes wonder how I keep it together. (opens the glove box and grabs a bottle of pills....the Glock is right where it's supposed to be....takes out three Percosets and pops them in his mouth and swallows them dry). Man those taste awful. (Grab's his Dunkin' Donuts iced coffee he got at the rest stop and takes a big sip through the straw).

The cost of this crap is unbelievable. Everyone is complaining about the price of gas. What about the damn price of coffee? This cost me almost as much as a gallon of gas and they want me to throw my change in a cup? Screw you! You're getting paid and I'm getting porked. You want a tip?

Kills me. This bum is sleeping like a baby. I suppose the passenger seat of this car is the most comfortable place he's slept in a while. (digs under the seat and grabs a bottle) Mmmmm...Sambuca, my old friend? How have a ya been? (opens the bottle and drinks about three ounces)

Okay. Once the buca and the percs kick in I should be rolling and enjoying this here trip west. Not sure what happens when I get to New York, but I guess I will learn as I go.

What is this bum's story? You know what? I don't care what his story is. I should shoot the bastard and put him out of his misery. Put him out of my misery. (just as he's thinking this, the bum disappears) What the fu.....?

WO! (Rusty immediately pulls the car into the break down lane and stops with a screech of brakes partly on the grass just beyond the break down lane) What the Christ just happened? I wasn't hallucinating. That guy was here and he was talking to me. What the hell was he talking about anyway? What is he, some sort of spirit? Someone sent here to warn me? But warn me with what, some drunken ramblings? Damn.....I gotta remember what he said. My memory is HORRIBLE anyway.

Something about an old man and people being mean to him and bombs? Hmmmm.....I'm old and I plan on getting bombed. But what about the mean people? Maybe I'll come across some mean people on this journey? The Queen of Pain was pretty mean but she left years ago. Thank God for small favors.

Maybe something to do with that old man being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe that's where I'm heading. To the wrong place at the wrong time. Destiny. Something bad is going to happen.

[edit on 2-3-2008 by Excitable_Boy]

(just then Rusty notices a black substance all over the passenger seat and it has already begun eating through the leather like some sort of mild acid)

What the Christ? What is this crap? Is this the blood of that freak? Was he injured and bleeding black acidic blood all over my damn $80,000 car? This is too much. I need to find a place to stay for the night. A place with a nice bar and bar flies.

(Rusty pulls off the Mass Pike in the Berkshire Mountains area and finds a decent looking motel in Barrington. And yes, there is a "lounge.")

Tomorrow I will have to find a mechanic who can take this seat out of the car and do what? Throw it away I guess. Hopefully, the only damage is to the seat come morning. My need for alcohol is greater than my need to deal with that seat right now. (he reaches in the glove box and pops two more Percosets).

Now.....where is that lounge?

(Rusty finds the lounge. It's about half full. Mostly tired, worn out men. There is a woman at the end of the bar that appears to be alone)

Is this seat taken?

"No, not unless I have an invisible friend."

Cute. What's your name?

"Wow. Right to the point. Very aggressive. I like that. Tina. And you are?"

Rusty. Russ....Russell. Whichever works for you. Bartender, I'll have a Miller and a shot of tequila. Cuervo Gold or whatever. Are you ready for another of whatever you're having Tina?

"Sure, but I can buy my own drinks. Another Matt and make sure it goes on MY tab. Thank you."

I should be insulted, but I don't care. Where you from Tina who buys her own drinks and why are you here?

"Two questions at once. Slow down cowboy. I'm a local. Just stopped in for a little relaxation and a to remind myself that I'm not the only person on the planet."

Interesting. You're very cynical. I like that in a woman. You know what else I like in a woman?

"I hope your not going to say your cock."

WOW! Cynical and a dirty mind. I LOVE it. Where have you been all my life? (laughs a bit too much)

"Excuse me. I have to go to the ladies room, Russell."

Russell. My mother was the only one that ever called me that. Take your time and enjoy yourself.

"Dude, you are smoo..ooth," chimes in the bartender, laughing.

Smooth. Yeah, that's me.

(all of a sudden fire engines can be heard in the distance...and the phone in the bar rings)

"Wo, you're kidding?.....No way....," the bartender practically yells into the phone. "Anyone in here own a silver Mercedes convertible?"

I do. Why, what's going on?

"It's on fire!"

[edit on 8-3-2008 by Excitable_Boy]

Rusty thinks as he heads to the scene, "My car is on fire. This is great..." He sees a state trooper and tells him it's his car.

"What would cause your car to be on fire Mr.?...."

"I think the fire would be causing the fire. How could I possibly know what's going on here? I just checked in and was hanging out in the lounge."

"You're going to have to come to the station to make a statement," says the trooper calmly which is only getting Rusty more agitated.

"I'll come by in the morning.”

“I’ll need some ID and personal information before I can cut you loose.”

“Cut me loose?” says Rusty quite intently. “I didn’t realize I was being held or that this was some sort of military state. You want me to come ‘downtown’ now, arrest me. But you better have something to charge me with. You want to play games. I’m not playing. I will be there tomorrow morning at nine sharp. I will give my statement to whoever feels like taking it. I already gave you my statement anyway. I checked in and went to the lounge.

“Oh yes…and I set my car on fire before heading to the lounge,” Rusty adds with a sarcastic tone.

“I’ll make sure to be there at 9:00 myself,” states Trooper Roger Moore, a name that has given him quite a bit of grief most of his life. “I want to be there when you don’t show so I can come and get you.”

“I’ll make sure to bring you a coffee officer Moore.” (the trooper’s name is on his uniform). It isn’t Dennis Moore is it? You know, like the character from Monty Python. “Dennis Moore, Dennis Moore, dumb dumb dumb dumb. He steals from the poor and gives to the rich. Stupid bitch. Dennis Moore, dumb dumb dumb.”

“Just let me see your ID and we can both be on our way…for now,” says Trooper Moore with quiet arrogance. They seem to have special Kool-Aid for that at the academy.

“Fine.” Rusty hands over his driver’s license.

“Russell James? There’s a writer named Russell James. I’ve read some of his stuff. Pretty good. I don’t suppose that would be you?” the trooper states with some new found personality.

“No….that’s not me. That’s not me. I sell…insurance. By the way, do you have enough insurance Officer Moore?”

“I’ll see you in the morning one way or the other Mr. James. You sleep well tonight now!” and Trooper Roger Moore heads to a group of firefighters discussing the scene.

This is a nightmare. It’s like I’m living the life of one of my characters or something. HEY! Maybe there is a story here. It was supposed to take place in Arizona, but it can certainly take place on the way to Arizona too. How do I get to route 66? Whatever. Right now I need to get back to the lounge and see if that bar fly with the nice legs is still there.


[edit on 3-7-2008 by Excitable_Boy]

She is, sitting on the same bar stool, with the same confident look on her face that most mature, "been around the block a few times" women have.

Something was different about her though. Then it hit me, she had changed her dress from a green one, to a filmy almost translucent mauve.
What the hell is up with that. Not that it didn't look nice, cause it did. I't just that when women say they are going to the john to powder their nose, they don't change their dress in the toilet.

Tina, why did you change? None of your goddamn business she said.
Now this is starting to get interesting, thinks I.

If this is a ploy to get ole Russ interested; it's working like a charm.

Then I noticed something else too. She smelled different. Before, she smelled like a hippy with that patcholie oil smell. Now, more of a citrus
scent, lemon, lime, orange? I couldn't really put my finger on it.

"So Tina, Read any good books lately?"

"As a matter of fact, I have, cowboy. The Book of Revelation in the Bible"

"Have you ever read it says Tina"

"Yeah, I have. So"

[edit on 5-7-2008 by whaaa]

"So?"

"So," says Tina who buys her own drinks, "It discusses the end of time. With that coming, don't you think we should have a lot of sex in case tonight is our last night on Earth?"

"WOW! Jackpot. Bartender....a round for everyone on me!"

"Ah, yeah..." says the bartender. "It's only the two of you in here big spender."

"Where'd everybody go? It must be late. Maybe the fire scared everbody off. Well, buy yourself one barkeep. Oh, Tina....I forgot, you only buy your own drinks. Well.....I'll have a Bud and a shot of Cuervo Gold with a lime."

"What are you playing hard to get cowboy?," says Tina with a twinkle in her eye.

"Not a bit darlin'. Just one for the road.....or for the walk to my room. When are you going to tell me why you changed your clothes?"

"I'll explain when the ones I'm wearing are on the floor in your room," she says while chewing on a marischino cherry. "So....how did that beautiful car of yours catch on fire anyway? Did you do it for the insurance? Payments too high for you?" she says quite playfully.

"No....the smelly bum I picked up leaked black blood acid onto the passenger seat before he disappeared and it must have eventually set the seat ablaze and then the car with it." Rusty figured the truth would be funnier than anything he could make up.

With that, Tina grabs Rusty by the hand and heads for the door. "Where's your room? We're gonna have to talk after we screw eachother's brains out!"


[edit on 7-7-2008 by Excitable_Boy]

Walking accross the parking lot and the zero scaped "yard" with a couple of broken swing sets the empty bottles of Coors lite, Tecate and Bud, and the wrappers of Halls mentholyptus throat lozunges with vapor action, blowing about in the mixture of sand and gravel. In one of the other
rooms the TV was on MTV playing some disposable Rap. No car was in front of the room so rusty assumed that the residents had driven down to
another road house down the road.

They get to his room and Rusty says, "Wait a minute. I want to know what this is all about before we start playing bumpy rolly."

"Bumpy rolly? That doesn't sound very plesant," says Tina as she is removing her bra and starting on the zipper of her very tight jeans.

"Tina...wait!"

"What are you gay or something?"

And that's all Rusty needs to hear. He decides the story of the acid-bleeding old man could wait until after a little heterosexual fun.

Hours later...









[edit on 30-1-2009 by Excitable_Boy]