Game 6 Page #4
- Year:
- 2006
- 15 min
- 422 Views
NICKY:
The Red Sox blow a chance to win
their first World Series since
1918. You expect me to miss that
for an opening night?
Joanna emerges from the closet in her nightdress and gets
into bed.
JOANNA:
It makes me so mad. Steven
Schwimmer ready to strike. The
exterminating angel.
NICKY:
It's all worked out. They'll lose
tonight. Then they'll lose
tomorrow. I see it with stunning
clarity.
JOANNA:
It's your best play, Nicky.
NICKY:
They'll lose because they're my
team.
JOANNA:
He will absolutely hate it.
INT. STEVEN SCHWIMMER'S LOFT
Steven is just waking up. The radio plays soft music.
He reaches over and hits the off button, then activates the
cassette player. He struggles out of bed and Sufi music
begins to fill the room.
He stands at the foot of the bed, a man in his mid-twenties,
hollow-chested, slightly potbellied, wearing rumpled pajama
bottoms and a Mostly Mozart T-shirt.
He does not remove the sleep mask.
The music has a sensuous, driving beat. Voices begin to
chant.
Steven holds his arms parallel to the floor. Slowly he begins
to turn, clockwise. The beat picks up and he whirls more
quickly, his mouth coming open.
Now he begins to whirl about the room. The chanting grows in
intensity. Although he is blindfolded, Steve deftly avoids
running into furniture and other objects.
Steven stops whirling at the precise moment the music stops
playing. He is back at the foot of the bed, arms stretched
wide.
INT. TAXI
Creeping along. Nicky leaning toward the driver.
NICKY:
I wrapped my sandwiches in tinfoil.
I ate and drove. I had one of those
big checkered cabs.
DRIVER:
You are going where?
NICKY:
Crosstown.
DRIVER:
Very bad today.
Driver's nameplate --
CHOUDHURY:
RAMASWAMY:
NICKY:
I cleaned out the ashtrays
religiously.
DRIVER:
I am sitting here five years in
traffic. It is one continuous
traffic since I arrive. Why must it
be?
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