Gerald's Game Page #4

---

The maids came to prep for us yesterday.

Because the bed is made

and the house is dusted.

Which means they're done and gone,

and the grass...

- ...was cut, fresh.

- Which means no gardeners.

Because I arranged it all

to get the place ready for us today.

And I wouldn't want them

interrupting my little game,

so I probably gave them

at least the weekend off.

- So, who could possibly...

- ...possibly hear you scream?

Except Cujo over there?

[grunts]

- You tried that.

- I know.

You can pull till your wrists break.

You're not getting out of those cuffs.

[Jessie yells]

[bones cracking]

[laughs] I told you.

I told you.

[grunting]

It's that easy.

Oh, babe, you're really losing it now.

Except your hand won't fit

through the cuff

and the bedpost is reinforced.

- Nice thought, though.

- Shut up.

Don't listen to him. He's the reason

we're here and look how he ended up.

I'm just telling her

how things really are.

No, you're doing what you always did,

minimizing, condescending.

Men aren't so much blessed

with penises as cursed by them.

[laughs]

And we might die here today

because of Gerald's five inches.

Our life has to add up to more than that.

- I can't get out.

- What about the stories on the news,

where mothers lift their cars

to save their children?

She's no mother.

What's that supposed to mean?

No maternal instinct.

- Your career always came first.

- That's what you said.

Maybe you even started to believe it.

I'm not so sure you can hide things

from me now.

You're wasting precious time here.

I can't get out.

- You have to.

- I am chained to the goddamn bed!

Don't recite facts to me. Wake up.

Says the voice in your head.

This is you... all over.

Problem, panic, denial.

Hoping if you look away,

it'll magically vanish.

If you don't wake up,

you're gonna die in those handcuffs.

And we both know you've been sleepwalking

since you were 12 years old.

- Not now.

- If not now, when?

Not now, what?

He put you in those handcuffs

way before Gerald did.

Who's "he"?

If I can get to the phone...

Phone's gonna die anyway.

I never charged it.

Or did a load of laundry, for that matter.

Tough luck.

Okay, scrap that.

Phone might as well be on Mars.

If you can't get off the bed...

live long enough

for someone to find you on it.

Yeah.

[moans]

What's wrong?

My head hurts.

You know why?

Life support.

How long do you think

someone lives without water?

Three days?

At best.

Yeah, seems like

I've heard three days somewhere.

That feels about right.

And it's been, what? Five...

six, seven hours.

I wanted to please you so badly.

This was such a stupid f***ing idea.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes