Feast Page #4
INT. BAR -- CONTINUOUS
The place is dark, musty and sporadically populated. We take
a quick right and stop at an old-fashioned jukebox.
A young man in a wheelchair loads a quarter into the jukebox
and is instantly pushed away by Bozo. We freeze on the young
man.
SUPERIMPOSED:
NAME:
PARAAGE:
29OCCUPATION:
FIREWORKS DEALERLIFE EXPECTANCY:
THEY WOULDN'T KILL A CRIPPLE... WOULD THEY?We see that "ONLY COOL CHICKS CAN DO ME" is printed on Bozo's
tank-top.
PARA:
Hey!
Para rolls away uncontrollably.
BOZO:
Shut up, fag.
Bozo punches in his selection. The CD spins. A 1980s heavy
metal song KICKS IN.
Bozo, mouthing the lyrics, struts away.
NOTE:
Music plays over all the bar sequences.P.O.V. - We continue to run. Panicked breathing. Kicking up
the snow.
INT. BAR -- NIGHT
A man takes a shot and downs it. We freeze on him.
SUPERIMPOSED:
NAME:
GOLDIEAGE:
24OCCUPATION:
HOST AT RED LOBSTERLIFE EXPECTANCY:
HORRIFYING DEATH IN JUST UNDER SEVENTY-FIVEMINUTES:
The bartender has been suffering through this dude's sob
story all night.
GOLDIE:
We'd been together for so long and
then... bang! She drops me. Since
then, it's been like a damn country
song. She's gone, the car's broke
down, a father figure made a pass at
me. I have a constant fear of
falling... etcetera, etcetera. I'm
not saying I ever had it. But I have
definitely lost it.
(beat)
I mean I used to be a model for
Christ's sake...
BARTENDER (thinning hair, chiseled face, big earring) looks
up at this while completing two drinks.
BARTENDER:
For what?
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"Feast" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 8 May 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/feast_394>.
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