Zerophilia Page #2

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Dripping with masculinity, he swaggers around the truck,

chewing gum, wielding a pneumatic torque-wrench, which he

occasionally REVS for emphasis.

MAX:

I can do the gasket for twenty

bucks.

thing?

But new T-sprocks, for this

Two, three hundred, maybe?

LUKE:

Sh*t. Can I hold off on that?

MAX:

No skin off my ass. But a few

days, weeks, your whole

transmission could blow.

LUKE:

Ah, Jeez. I shouldn't got this.

7.

Max considers, sets his baseball cap on the truck fender and

SIGHS.

MAX:

Four hundred seventy-five

horsepower. Twenty-eight inch

wheels. It's a classic. Let me

dig around out back. Maybe we got

a used set.

LUKE:

That’d be great. Thanks.

Max disappears through a squeaky door at the back.

Luke picks up a rag and wipes fingerprints off the fender.

He sits, impatient for Max to return.

He examines Max's cap, tries it on. He picks up the torque-

wrench, swaggers about, trying to look macho, in the manner

of Max.

He spins around and REVS the wrench, catching sight of

MICHELLE, twenty, watching him from out front in jeans and T-

shirt, with warm, confident eyes.

Luke swallows, wide-eyed, a deer in headlights. He sets

down the torque-wrench.

LUKE (CONT'D)

It's not my wrench. It's my truck.

MICHELLE:

What's wrong with it?

LUKE:

Oh, just needs a new gasket and a

couple T-sprocks. The flanges are

sheared off. No big deal.

MICHELLE:

You have to watch my brother, Max.

He's sellin' you "T-sprocks?"

LUKE:

Yeah?

MICHELLE:

There's no such thing. Last week

he sold Mrs. Gustafson a whole set:

six hundred bucks. My name's

Michelle.

8.

LUKE:

From New York. Poli-Sci transfer.

I sort of asked around campus.

MICHELLE:

You did?

LUKE:

You've prob'ly already got a

stalker, huh?

MICHELLE:

No.

Luke stares, awkward.

LUKE:

You heard about Cafe Lunizia?

Italian? They got New York style

pizza. Make you feel at home.

MICHELLE:

You askin' me out?

LUKE:

Oh, well, uh, -definitely!

An SUV pulls up at the gas pump, stuffed with Keenan and

OTHER GUYS. CHAD, exuding supreme self-confidence, calls

over to Luke as he pumps gas.

CHAD:

Hey, Spanky, let's go! Look

forward to kickin' your puck ass.

LUKE:

My ride.

MICHELLE:

Your name's "Spanky?"

LUKE:

No, Puck Ass, but people just call

me Luke. We're beatin' his frat

boy team in street hockey. Pisses

'em off.

MICHELLE:

I'll talk to Max. Tell him to just

replace the gasket.

Luke's BREATHING grows HEAVIER.

9.

LUKE:

Thanks. So, what do you think?

I'll just sit there while you eat.

I won't even talk.

MICHELLE:

Look, I just split up with this

total amoeba.

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