Young Writers Society

TWILIGHT – Dilapidated area. Neon spangled across the primetime market. Smoke lingering out of ducts. The shanties are alive when all else is not. 

Two vehicles pull up into the narrow curbless streets with plenty of the crowd. All the carlights go off and the front doors on both sides open.

BOSS: “Police say they’re the good guys. What school nuts graduated them?”

The men cross the way and enter through an alley. They walk up the right side steps into a building.

PAWN SHOP - INT.

Almost a dozen Ink-faced men in suits of a commune as the BOSS and his company muscle cross through to the door in the center of the floor plan. Both of them enter through to a downward stair set of a LIGHT-DIMMED ROOM. One of them hits the light which suddenly brightens on the BOSS.

The BOSS has a gut from under the shirt, is green-skinned with creases all about. Has alopecia, a snout (yes a real elephant one) and a stereotypical Bronx-Italian accent. He stands in front of a square table, very disgruntled. 

In his raspy voice…

BOSS: That radio in the car is magnificent. 

Henchman: Kakula put it in there. 

BOSS: You sent him something? 

Henchman: He owed me.

BOSS: Oh.

-He flaps the lapels of his jacket. 

BOSS: I’ve had it on all day. A broadcast from the regional frequency. I mean, how popular can a guy get in these parts? Word in the wind, “Mr. Colt under duress, shanghaied.” F’kn believe it? Guess with showbiz kids like you, these idiots are fond of anything. Do you realize how much you've f'ked my city over?

Jack: You've been thinking about this a lot.

BOSS: There is a saying that goes around town. "A house full of mice belongs to you if you own the mice." Where are my mice? All of them, gone. They’re gone. So what did I do? I found someone who looked responsible… Sue me for being unfeasible. You f'k my city over, I f'k you back.

Beat.

BOSS: (cont.) I have 22 handlers (holds up number with his fingers) run on the strips. My guy Numbers- my Numbers, tells me "We're clockin out on five figures a week." This includes the cartel wannabes and the office-bearers, a court martial, the whole nine. Five figures. When I talk dealing, I'm talking about the next best thing around since the Crooners dealt Amos (acupunctural drug). The stuff is delicious on the way down you'll want a taste of that later... Stuff sells at twice the minimum wage. When I call, Numbers tells me every two weeks. "The dims are out!" meaning busy on the block. We landed in Tucker and Bermuda. He says it, and I know the going is gotten. Third of Adas (A zodiacal year), he sells me the vernacular. I know my guy enough just from how his voice sounds. Might even consider it A tell, but surprisingly dominoes is his game. But he calls me back one of those days, "Oh, no currents passed through today." No crowds? Okay. By the end of that cycle, we have a loss of 7200 Rhumes.

Beat. 

BOSS: (cont.) Seven- thousand, two hundred, of my Rhumes. Why you ask? I'll tell you why. Cause the day before, I get a phone call from Jefers, "Hey did you hear, someone hooked Reags." "Is that so." "Yep, caught him red-handed." News in my ears. Charged for seventeen grams. That's fifteen grams too many. Struck down hard on drugs since the unis finally held a pair. Week later "Randle caught running in the shadows" Two weeks passed and 12 of my spots disappeared under the strobe light. The vines lent me that I got two options. Relocate the settlement or blow it up. I come back another two weeks, someone racked Gil's bottom feeders at the excavation near the barbery and all that. Somebody ratted him out even after I was insulted with these precautions. When somebody puts me on any diet, it's nerve-racking. But I like my operations.

Unfortunately I get ANOTHER phone call, saying one of mines is washing in dirty water. Daphnie, "We got patrol on 12 of MY locations." (angry tone) ISN'T THAT AMAZING!!!

Beat. 

BOSS: (cont., rhetorical) "Oh yes it is, please tell how it could've possibly happened?" Yes I will, in fact it's the juiciest part of this segue. You see, I have this temperament, and I would think that it's the rat-scared police I have to worry about. But it's not them. (angry Pacino tone) THAT'S NOT WHO I'VE GOT TO THANK FOR, IS IT?!! ‘Cause I believe what Numbers told me in his dissonant voice: "F'kn monsters are a snag to the workshop!!" If you had a better hobby to do nowadays than to come around, worshipping phantoms and stickin' ya G'Damn face into a real craft of the game, the world I live in would be better off.

Jack: …Look-

BOSS: NO ONE, TOLD YOU, TO SAY, A DAMN THING!! I just want you to know that your, “contributions” to the community is well to be aforementioned in the future, Mr. Colt.

Beat.

-Jack nods.-

BOSS: I mean, I always thought the hero thing was a work of pure sort. It’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever come to know. I’ve never understood it.

JACK: Glad you approve.

Boss: It’s funny how it came to me, cause I know one of my guys goes to get those d’mn things, those magazines. Like an idiot, he reads them for pleasure. “Ghost Mask” and all that crap. Hey, I don’t care if he whistles Dixie about ‘em. I warn him not to do it on my time.

I’m a businessman, Mr. Colt. You gonna learn what that means by the end of the night. By the time we’re done, the world’s gonna have enough problems tryna replace your up and coming reputation as a household name.

Jack: …Okay.

BOSS: “Well how did I get here?” It’s a secret. And I’ll tell you what it is. When you’re short, on friends, you make new ones. When you’re out of cups, go to the store. Fattening a sandwich? Buy cheese. That, Mr. Colt, is the currency of leadership. You don’t get to assume the job is done, when this is clearly a collision course.

Jack: Question…

BOSS: ???

Jack: When’s the last time this ever happened?

Boss: What’s that supposed to mean?

Jack: I mean when someone did your ‘sandwich unfattening’.

Boss: (Looks at the henchman confused) This thing… the levity.

Jack: Thought I’d never understand, did you?

Shut up. The idiots never were a-holes like you. Well, they kind of were. (shakes head) This idiot of mine, I caught him shagging my friend’s sister in Pulsum. So I did the favor of breaking his four legs. But that’s not why I broke him. The real reason is because someone tried to scam him into one of those marketing deals. He took the man’s money, my money went to him. It’s happened to him plenty. It’s like his stupidity emasculated my reputation.

Jack: How mad did he make you?

Boss: Why do you give a damn?

Jack: I’m sure the situations are incomparable. Might as well.

Boss: I’m a person who does what he feels. Like I said, his reputation emasculated mine. And I wanted to emasculate him. But I guess I didn’t do what I really felt at the time. But I know I have almost that same itch, now that you mention it. And more, which remains unsaid. But let me do what I said I would do. So I can make clear to the news reporters what my mercy is all about. Then I’ll show you my feelings…

Beat.

Jack: hey...Minnesota Fats? Look, I'm sorry to dig into your sib-sobbing soliloquy but- question. It's been three or four days in this very seat, sweating like a pig. (gagging) And -hasn't bothered me 'til now-, I- I couldn't stop getting past this... scent, this traveling smell. Same smell I've been smelling since I was brought here.

EVERYONE ELSE: ??

JACK: Been going up and down the way. Smells like provolone... i know what provolone smells like.

EVERYONE ELSE: ??

JACK: Is that a sandwich?

BOSS: The fawk do you cahre!

JACK: Well if you're gonna kill a guy, you're telling him he can't have the respect for fresh food when someone's been lickin their chops around here...

BOSS: Again, my boggled mind wants to gather where this is going.

Jack: Cause I smelled pickles halfway down the damn steps! Idiot. Garlic steak, with JXJ spring Seasoning, Jillcat Mayonnaise over meatballs under the crown, Romaine doused in the signature Virgin Olive Oil significantly made by the very Godfather himself? He'd rise from his grave for that scent. I don’t eat that kind of stuff around here. You brought a Sazarian Slopper on Dry-Crust Rye from Sazarian Sams for 24.99, with a beverage of Yam sake. (looks him over) You sound like you ate the whole ten inch circumference. You wouldn't even share it with a refrigerator.

BOSS: How the hell do you know that?

Jack: Cause I remember the that operation we did when Officer Phayabrughshezesh returned at Precinct 14. He had the damn receipt on his desk.

Beat.

BOSS: (chuckling) Very ballsy of you, to crack wise, you shriveling-

Jack: yeahm...

-The expression on his face goes slowly blank in the moment. Everyone in the room looks up to the thundering cacophony rumbling above the ceiling. Screaming and chasing on the floor above. Then the bumping stops after countable minutes.-

BOSS: Check the number out.

-His henchman gives an awkward expression.-

They all grab their calibers, unlock and cock as they race up the stairs.

MAIN FLOOR

By the time he reaches the top, the BOSS’S eyes spot 14 of the guys in suits either face up or face down unconsicious, and Malachi and the cops stand there at the front with Dalia and friends entering from the back.

His henchman aims his gun before… T-THONK!!! Malachi throws a metal box at him.

The boss races back down to the bottom of the steps, snaps the door open…

BOSS: Augh!!

CRRRaaakkkkshhhh! …and lands tossed into the square table by Jack fixing his elbow pad.

Jack walks up the stairs slowly.

Jack: You guys ought to be ashamed, coming in this late…

Officer: One of ours called it soon as the car went up the way. We had a few birds squawk. We also had his needles and three receipts. Two of them went to some sandwich deli, Salazar something…

Jack: Sazarian Sams.

Officer: We came across three locations and asked around town if his ugly face ever shown and his whereabouts. And there you go.

Jack: Nice work. Where’s the door?

-Everyone steps aside to let him out into the chilled climate.-

Jack: They were eatin’ fast food the whole time. People need to learn that it’s okay to be a vegetarian.

Malachi: You wanna go have a seat.

Jack: Wait. Can someone tell me how to get- to, Sazarian Sams?

-They get in a police car and drive away.-

END.