By Walter Howard
FADE IN:
EXT. EMPTY STREET-NIGHT
A young black male, early twenties, walks the quiet humid streets of Pittsburgh in the summer. A car drives by prompting him to stick a thumb up in request. The car drives on. After a good deal more walking, another car approaches. His thumb goes up, and this time his request incites a hesitant stop from a gorgeous luxury vehicle. The passenger door swings open in front of him, and he, in turn, hesitates before entering. He looks at his benefactor; a middle-aged white male-perfectly groomed and wearing glasses meant to guarantee intellect. The car moves.
WHITE STRANGER
I’ve never done this before. Loathe to admit, I haven’t always been so concerned with my fellow man.
BLACK STRANGER
What made you start with me?
WHITE STRANGER
I’d like to say a renewal of faith, perhaps even a change of heart, but those notions don’t often factor in to real world character. I picked you up-better put- I decided to stop, out of curiosity.
BLACK STRANGER
All the same to me, thanks.
WHITE STRANGER
You are welcome. Is there somewhere I’m taking you?
BLACK STRANGER
Nowhere specific. I’d be grateful to travel with you for as long and far as you’ll have me.
WHITE STRANGER
Simply looking to get away, hmmm?
BLACK STRANGER
That’s putting it plainly, yessir.
WHITE STRANGER
Been there. I might not look it, but I have.
BLACK STRANGER
You seem to have arrived at something. This is a nice car you’re drivin’.
WHITE STRANGER
You noticed? I’ve had my share of success.
BLACK STRANGER
It’s almost inspiring.
WHITE STRANGER
Can I ask you something?
BLACK STRANGER
Shoot.
WHITE STRANGER
Do you know me?
BLACK STRANGER
How do you mean?
WHITE STRANGER
I mean, do you know who I am? Are you familiar with my work?
BLACK STRANGER stares sideways.
WHITE STRANGER
It’s not important.
BLACK STRANGER
Now that you mention it, you do look familiar.
WHITE STRANGER
I only ask because if you knew my name, I was prepared to ask you yours.
BLACK STRANGER
Karl Mallory.
WHITE STRANGER
Ralph Carter.
KARL
Now I’ve definitely heard that name before. Something in politics.
RALPH
Strike one.
KARL
What happens at strike three?
RALPH
I declare myself a novelist though there are those who could offer a rebuttal.
KARL
A novelist, huh? What kind of novels?
RALPH
The kind that everybody reads but no one really respects. Trifles. I writes murder stories.
KARL
The only books I really read.
RALPH
Could it be? A fan? Pinch me.
KARL
Do you not have many fans?
RALPH
I do actually. I don’t respect my fans. I look down upon them. What does that say about me that I look down upon my own fans?
KARL
You don’t respect yourself.
RALPH
Bingo.
KARL
I don’t know though. Those glasses alone probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. You must really be raking it in.
RALPH
You’re saying there’s a limit to how sorry you can feel for me?
KARL
Exactly. And I don’t mean to get personal.
RALPH
Duly noted. Continue.
KARL
But I would bet all the money I don’t have that you got a smoking hot wife.
RALPH
That I do.
KARL
What I imagine, the kinda woman I’m picturing-
RALPH
His eyes grow carnal.
KARL
The kinda woman I’m picturing is worth all the respect I have for myself.
RALPH
You would think. I did think.
KARL
Then?
RALPH
You get older. You get old.
KARL
How old are you?
RALPH
I turn fifty next month.
KARL
What starts to happen?
RALPH
What starts to happen is you get to thinking. You spend a lot of time solitary, in your house, and mine is a very big one.
KARL
What about your wife?
RALPH turns slightly towards KARL but is somewhere else entirely.
RALPH
You want to see something?
KARL
Sure.
RALPH pulls out his wallet and takes out a picture of his wife. He then hands a small photo to KARL.
RALPH
No let down?
KARL
None.
RALPH
Keep it.
KARL
What?
RALPH
It’s a present.
KARL
I don’t want to seem ungrateful and ask a weird question, but what do I do with it?
RALPH
More picturing. More imagining. That picture of her will be as useful to you, as the flesh and blood genuine article has been to me. Have your way with her. I have.
KARL pockets it.
KARL
Can I ask where we’re going?
RALPH
You said you didn’t care, remember?
KARL
That’s right. I did say that.
Silence.
KARL
I’ve always wondered how you writers come up with all that stuff.
RALPH
All that gouging out cat’s eyeballs with pen knives and hiding wives in walls stuff.
KARL
For example.
RALPH
Well I suppose there has to be a screw or two loose somewhere. Do you know, for all the kvetching and words of contempt, I’ve always wanted, prayed even, to write one great murder story. One that really shocks without being cheap.
KARL
People don’t shock easy.
RALPH
Everything’s so derivative now.
KARL
My uncle used to call his food great trash. He used to say, “I ain’t no gourmet.”
RALPH
A character. Not for a novel, but for an anecdote. If only I knew what you’re trying to express to me.
KARL
Serve it up and smile.
RALPH
Ah, in other words, if I can’t achieve what I aspire to, aspire to what I can achieve.
KARL
That sounds about right.
RALPH
Inspired thinking. You are coming along quite nicely Karl.
KARL
I get all kinds of ideas.
RALPH
And I’ll bet they just flow and flow and flow. Am I right? No self-doubt.
KARL
Are you working on anything now?
RALPH
I am.
KARL
Could it be your great murder story?
RALPH
Not likely. Better try for great trash.
KARL
Then maybe I could help.
RALPH
Maybe.
KARL
What’s it about?
RALPH
A man- a wealthy man-smothers his gold-digging, fornicating wife, then takes off with her in the trunk of his car.
KARL
Then what?
RALPH
I was thinking he might pick up a stranger hitchhiking as he drives.
KARL
Why would he do that?
RALPH
Maybe he needs someone to confess to. Someone harmless.
KARL
So he’s not Catholic, and he’s never heard of priests.
RALPH
You have a better idea?
KARL
Not yet. But let’s go ahead and say that the hitchhikers harmless-I’ll give you that although it’s no guarantee-what happens to the hitchhiker after the confession.
RALPH
That’s what I don’t know yet.
KARL
You don’t have a why. You don’t have an ending. And I’m not sold on how your guy kills his wife. What I like about this kind of shit is all the weird and interesting ways someone can kill another person.
RALPH
How would you do it?
KARL
Someway really grisly. I saw this one shit right, where the wife gets it to her with piano wire. Almost takes her head clean off. You want the reader to close his eyes for a few seconds, ya know?
RALPH
You’re wonderful. I ought to take you to the Q and A’s I do at old ladies’ book clubs.
KARL
And back to your hitchhiker. I don’t buy it. A killer would want to be alone.
RALPH
The whole interest for me was the unlikely bond of two strangers that forms when murder is involved.
KARL
If you’re hell-bent on it then you have to kill the hitchhiker after the confession.
RALPH
I’ve considered that. It’s a little obvious.
KARL
It’s a paperback seller right?
RALPH
Has some of my New Canaan snobbishness rubbed off? Yet and still, my readers are cheap, not easy.
KARL
What if the two meet before the murder? Or, what if the guy confesses but the stranger has a story himself that would keep him from really judging it.
RALPH
Coincidence much. He just happens to pick up a man with a past?
KARL
Coincidences happen. Otherwise there’d be no word for it. What if the rich dude paid the stranger to murder his wife? That’s murder and money. What if he paid the stranger to seduce his wife?
RALPH
The stranger wishes.
KARL
So that he can walk in and commit a crime of passion. Money, sex, murder.
A sudden violent crash. Both men are a little worse for wear but alright. They get out of the car to see what they’ve hit. A deer. They stare at its corpse.
RALPH
Let’s move him.
They carry it over to the side of the road.
RALPH
Have you ever done any writing Karl?
KARL
None sir.
RALPH
You seem to have a perfect mind for this. What if I asked you to spend the night at my house? What if I asked for your help?
KARL
What about your wife?
RALPH
What about her?
KARL
Won’t she mind?
RALPH
No need to worry about her.
They reenter the car and take off.
FADE OUT
