Excerpt from unfinished movie script / Fowl

INT: BATHROOM OF A 7-11

Frank is staring at the bathroom mirror.  He's dressed in a skin-tight black turtleneck and wearing too much eyeliner.

FRANK

Insanity oozing through telephone cables, seeping into the ears of all those poor sane people, infecting them.  A plague of madness.  I fact, very few of us here are actually mentally ill.  I'm not saying you're not mentally ill.  For all I know you're as crazy as a loon.  But that's not why you're here.  You're here because of the economy.  

CUT TO: INT. BROOKLYN GYMNASIUM STAGE

An old Brooklyn elementary school gym has been "converted" into a performance artist's stage.  There are about 30 folding chairs neatly arranged which are occupied by exactly 3 people:  an old man with white hair sitting in the front row and a high school aged couple who are making out in the back row.  In the center of the stage is an eight-foot tall astronaut we saw Frank working on earlier.  It is surrounded by the smaller paper-maiche businessmen.  They are all covered in fake blood, donned in tinfoil and suits, and are strewn about like corpses.  Jenna, Jack's girlfriend, is on her knees positioning a corpse.  Jack is doing likewise.

JENNA

Have you tried his cellphone?

JACK

Like four times.

JENNA

What did Frank say?

JACK

Frank doesn't know yet.  He's not here.  He never shows up until right before show time.  

JENNA

Something must have come up.  I'm sure he'll be here in time.

JACK

Listen.  You're going to have to do it.

CUT TO: BATHROOM OF A 7-11

FRANK

(continuing his lecture to the mirror)

Well, I've managed to contact certain underlings, evil spirits, secretaries of secretaries, and assorted minions, who will contact my father.  When he learns I'm in this kind of place he'll have them transfer me to one of those classy joints where they treat you properly.  But still, sometimes I feel like BENDING THE FUCKING BARS BACK, RIPPING OFF THE GODDAMN WINDOW FRAMES, AND EATING THEM, YES EATING THEM, AND LEAPING, LEAPING!

CUT TO: INT. BROOKLYN GYMNASIUM STAGE

JENNA

But I don't -

JACK

(interrupting)

It's all written down right here in Frank's production notes.  Pretty straight forward, really.  The pulleys are in the balcony right up the stairs.

JENNA

(confused)

What's this word?  Models?

JACK

Modules.  It's highlighted.  It's one of your cues.  Piece of cake, right?

Jenna looks down at the production notes, still confused.  She shakes her head.

JACK

Look, I gotta set up.  The crowd's getting impatient already.  If we make them wait much longer we could have another Who at Riverfront on our hands.  Don't worry.  You'll do great.

Jack starts to leave but Jenna isn't moving.

JACK

(pointing up)

Right up the stairs, first row of the balcony.

CUT TO:  INT. BATHROOM AT A 7-11

FRANK

Lunar.  Lunar.  Lunar.  Lunar.  Lunar.  Lunar.  Luuuuunnnnnnaaaaaarrrrrr!

Frank bursts through the bathroom door and into the 7-11.  He runs though the candy aisle, knocking over a rack of snack-sized potato chips before slamming through the front door and and sprinting across the street, towards the gym.  We follow him as he runs down hallways decked with finger-paintings and construction paper cutouts, past rows of four-foot high lockers, and through the double-doors of the elementary school gymnasium.  He rushes to the stage, jumps up, and spins to face the audience with his arms flailing.

FRANK

(screaming)

Lunar!!!!!

The audience is silent.  The young couple in the back is unfazed and continue to make out.  The old man wakes up from his sleep.  

FRANK

Crater impacts are nothing but the backbeat of lunar percussionists.  Clouds of toxic gas fill the already punctured lungs of the Human Resources Manager.  The orbital probe now facilitates your dental coverage.

Jenna is on the balcony trying to decipher Frank's production notes, slightly and hesitantly tugging various ropes.

FRANK

A diet of volcanic ash and freeze-dried Neapolitan ice cream sparsely partitioned by an elaborate network of elliptical modules.  .  .  .  

FRANK

Elliptical modules.

Jenna realizes that "modules" is her cue and yanks on one of the ropes.  This raises the astronaut's arm momentarily before it snaps off and proceeds to dangle and swing slowly just beside its shoulder socket.

FRANK

(continuing)

A raised arm for reverence, for wrath, for repentance.  Where gravity repels and cynics attract!  Who will dare gaze upon this glorified version of the uncertainty principle?!

The old man coughs.

FRANK

(subdued)

Fuck it.

Frank walks off behind the stage to where Jack is still working the lights.

FRANK

Where the fuck is Hayden?