Nuestros amantes

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1

OUR LOVERS:

Hello.

Can I help you?

Yes.

Will I come back?

Yes, give me a minute.

Got any brandy?

Sure. Which do you want?

I don't know.

I've never tried it.

Hang on.

This is the best I've got.

Try it, and if you like it

I'll give you a glass.

Good, isn't it?

It's Brand A.

Was that a joke?

It sounded better in my head.

- A glass?

- I'd prefer another of these.

Not taking any risks.

Under no circumstances.

- Can I have another?

- You don't want a glass?

No.

I don't know happened.

It was an impulse.

An act of passion?

I think so.

OK.

Hi, there.

Do we know each other?

No.

But I'd like that.

The routine with the brandy was...

promising.

All right.

- I'm...

- No, no!

Don't tell me your name.

I don't want to know.

Why?

I don't want to call you

what everyone does.

Why?

I want to give you a name

that means something to me,

one that only I know and use.

You'll do the same with me.

- Find a name for you?

- Yes.

But not now.

When we know each other better.

Do you think I'm crazy?

- Are you crazy?

- Perhaps.

Does it matter?

My pleasure,

whoever you are.

No, no, no.

- No kisses.

- Of course not. What an idea!

I don't like routine kisses.

- Any questions?

- Yes.

But you'll be disappointed.

They're clichs.

That's flattering.

- Asking clichd questions?

- No.

We've just met

and you don't want to disappoint me.

The first question is so obvious

I prefer you ask it yourself.

And if my question

isn't what your question was?

I'm sure it will be.

OK,

- but you answer it.

- It's a deal.

Can we shake hands?

Yes, because it means something.

Do I do this often?

- Do what?

- Chat people up like this.

At times,

when you see someone interesting.

- Why you?

- Why me?

Why did I pick you?

You think I'm interesting,

for some reason.

What reason?

You answer that.

Do you like parks?

Yes, I do.

I love going to parks

and watching children play.

Suddenly one child will go up

to another he doesn't know

and just say:
"Shall we play?"

And they start playing.

When I saw you, I thought

you'd want to play with me.

Shall we play?

Sure.

Great!

What'll we play?

That's where

we're different from children.

They want to know

what the game is.

But you and I will find out

while we're playing.

How long does the game last?

Until we're bored.

Any rules?

Yes, there are.

I don't want you

to find out anything about me.

I don't want you to know who I am,

so no Internet and no phones.

But I suppose the idea

is that we'll meet again.

That's the idea.

So how do we arrange it?

We talk.

We set a day, a time, a place.

That's worked for centuries.

It shouldn't fail now.

No, it shouldn't.

Anything else?

Yes.

You like to go slowly.

I don't.

I don't want to waste time.

No beating about the bush.

If I ask you something,

you answer immediately.

And if I don't want to?

Lie to me.

Lying is much more creative

and fun than telling the truth.

I trust lies.

As someone said:

"A lie always tells the truth".

Who said that?

I did, two seconds ago.

Very well.

I'll lie to you.

Any more rules?

Yes, the most important one.

Whatever happens,

don't fall in love with me.

Is it dangerous?

Yes, very.

For me or for you?

I have to go.

So, today is Monday.

In a week's time we'll meet there.

Around this time.

Perfect.

You and I are going to have fun.

A drink?

Cristbal, are you there?

My dear partner,

we need the Anton Chekov within you.

This is the situation.

In act one, Ditsy and Bozo

are chased by Russian hitmen.

Pure Chekhov.

They think the girls are cops

pretending to be mental retards.

The girls are running away

because they think

the hitmen are in love with them

and the guys are... no, not ugly.

Take it up a level.

I'll ignore that provocation.

What's the dramatic conflict here?

They shake off the hitmen because

a) Ditsy vomits over them

or b) Bozo does one of her farts

and leaves them unconscious.

Not an easy decision.

If it were, any moron could make it.

- Vomit or a fart.

- That is the question.

Ditsy and Bozo.

A girl chatted me up today.

- Seriously?

- Yes.

- Are you sure?

- I think so.

- Ugly?

- No.

Up a level?

Stop provoking me.

Sorry, I mean, very ugly,

monstrous, hair-raising?

No, just the opposite.

She was really nice.

Remember what I told you

I'd thought of doing and you said

- I shouldn't do it?

- You did it?

No.

You did it.

You know,

you can combine intellectual

brilliance with such pure imbecility

that it has me fascinated.

The thing is, if I hadn't done it,

I wouldn't have been

where the girl who chatted me up

chatted me up.

What's her name?

- She didn't say.

- Of course.

You can just call her

"the girl who chatted me up".

- I didn't tell her mine.

- Excellent.

I mean, she can just call you

"the guy I chatted up".

She wants us

to give each other new names

when we know each other better.

You know she could be

f***ing insane?

Yes, or what you ayatollahs

in film theory call...

- A Manic Pixie Dream Girl.

- ...a Manic Pixie Dream Girl.

So, your life is in chaos

and you decide to throw in a lunatic

to really f*** it up, right?

She may not be that crazy.

Take that!

Well, I don't think she'll get

the Nobel Prize for Sanity.

But you can try to screw her.

A quick tumble

could add some light to all that...

darkness.

- One thing I haven't said.

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