Stage of Grief

Most of my scripts contain embedded heaploads of my personality, usually perceptible as strange or over-the-top humor. I decided, for this short script, to forgo my normal writing style as an experiment of humorlessness (but I couldn't help myself: there are several Kyle moments hidden in these pages).

If you enjoy dark suspense, this story is for you.

STAGE OF GRIEF by Kyle Patrick Johnson Represented by: Canton Literary Management (CLM) Contact: Eric Canton (866) 429-3118 ECanton@Prodigy.net www.CantonLiteraryManagement.com 2. FADE IN: EXT. BUSY CITY SIDEWALK - NIGHT (MOS) Hordes of pedestrians stream in spiderweb directions. WOMAN IN RED (40) strolls with two GIRLFRIENDS under the neon signs, laughs and points and chats and enjoys life. A tan Buick sedan accelerates, drifts towards the sidewalk. Unseen driver. Brakes screech, Buick skids out of control. SERIES OF SHOTS (SLOW MOTION) The Girlfriends throw themselves backwards, but Woman In Red appears rooted to the spot. Her smile fades. The Buick slams into Woman In Red, full force, knocks her to the ground. Her head bounces off the concrete pavement. The Buick panics, reverses, peels off down the street, muddy license plate. The Girlfriends gape after it, in shock. One pulls out a cell phone, still staring, dials. An ambulance arrives, red lights flash. Two PARAMEDICS jump out. A police car arrives, blue and red lights flash. Paramedics blow into Woman In Red’s mouth, pump her chest. Shake their heads to a POLICEMAN. Paramedics drape blankets over the Girlfriends. Cell Phone Girlfriend dials again. INGO GUNNARSON (45) drives up in a truck, jumps out, wears a doctor’s white clinic jacket, name stitched on. He looks at the Girlfriends, who weep mascara down their cheeks. Ingo kneels beside a filled body bag. He throws himself across the body bag, hugs it, screams his grief to the sky. Policeman opens a bright yellow pad. A traffic citation. He writes: “Unknown Person, tan sedan, hit and run”. Ingo, eyes running rivers, looks up at Policeman and the yellow pad. Policeman shrugs, a lame consolation. FADE OUT. INT. DENTIST’S OFFICE - DAY SUPER: “ONE WEEK LATER” 3. Wall plaque: “State’s Finest Dentist: Customer Service 2008”. Posters of teeth and open mouths. Framed portrait of Woman In Red on the desk. Ingo slumps, head on hands, eyes an inch from the photo. His eyes are sad, his posture broken. Without moving his eyes, he reaches an arm above the desk to a bookshelf, brings down a hefty textbook. Opens it. The pages are glued together, cut out, hiding place for a flask. He takes a swig. Stares at the portrait. An intercom buzzes. He replaces the flask with apathy, thuds the book back onto the shelf. Shuffles across the room, past a central dentist’s chair. He opens the door. Sees: NADIA TORNOW (80), curly blue hair, frozen in place as she pops a doughnut hole into a circular mouth. She chews. INGO Nadia, Nadia. Healthy breakfasts, right? Nadia bows her apology, mouth spilling crumbs. She hands Ingo her patient file, plunks her purse on his desk, sits in the dental chair, tries to swallow the doughy lump. Ingo brushes powdered sugar off the file. Half-hearted smile. INGO Let’s rinse, shall we? Open up. Nadia opens her sugar-coated mouth. Disgusting. Ingo sprays her teeth clean with a miniature hose. Puts a loud-sucking vacuum tube under her tongue. INGO Bogdana using that litterbox yet? Nadia nods. Mumbles something unintelligible. INGO I thought so. Takes a few weeks. Her cat was about a month before she figured it out. Nadia mumbles something, a surprised tone. 4. INGO Oh, I’ve had lots of practice. She used to say I couldn’t understand her because there was nothing in her mouth. I’d say that’s why our arguments weren’t my fault. She’d laugh. Ingo turns his head away, macho, misty-eyed. He swallows. He turns off the hose, withdraws it and the vacuum. Props her mouth wide open with lip retractors. Approaches her teeth with a tiny mirror and pick. Taps on each tooth. INGO This just a routine check? Nadia mumbles something, tongue immobile. INGO Oh, this one here? Ingo taps on a molar. Nadia gives a little scream of pain. Bites down. INGO That’s her. Tongue down, please. Ingo works in silence. Scrapes the tooth. Examines his handiwork. Digs at the tooth some more. Starts up a whiny cordless dentist’s drill. Moves the drill around inside her mouth. Grinding. Nadia’s eyes, full of fear. INGO It’s all right, Nadia. I won’t hurt you. Done this a million times. Nadia attempts a stretched lips smile, mumbles something. Ingo stops, motionless, the drill whirs without effect. INGO No. Thanks. I needed to get back to work right away. I’m sorry, too... Ingo begins to weep. The drill drifts, touches a tooth, whirs. Nadia winces, a little cry of pain. 5. Ingo pulls the drill out of her mouth, turns it off. INGO She was everything... Gone just like that. I don’t even know who... Doc Vern says I’ve already passed through denial, anger, bargaining, straight to depression. Why not? Nadia’s eyes tear up. She mumbles more. INGO Yeah. I need one, don’t I? Maybe next month. Ingo stands, composes himself. Walks to the window. Looks through it, deep breaths in and out. The drill in his right hand. INGO’S POV - THROUGH WINDOW A parking lot. Empty. Except for a tan Buick sedan. BACK TO SCENE Ingo turns pale. Double-takes at the car outside. He sidles over to his desk, talks to cover his movement. INGO The Godlessness of it all. All those people on the street, all those people on the sidewalk. That car only hits one. Why her? Why that moment? Of course I still believe. I believe He’ll lead me to the one who took her from me. He gets to the desk, looks down at Nadia’s purse. A bright yellow slip sticks out the top. A series of emotions flash across his face: Confusion. Remembrance. Decision. Anger. Coldness... INGO I know why you came to see me. Nadia mumbles something, a long phrase, whimpers with pain, almost crying. She points to her molar. Ingo’s back is to her, doesn’t see her. 6. WHIRRR! He flicks the drill on. INT. RECEPTIONIST’S DESK - DAY A door behind the desk opens. Ingo’s head pops through. His breathing is slow, normal. Blood spattered cheek. INGO Margret, call 911. An accident. MARGRET (20), flustered receptionist, fumbles with the phone. EXT. STRIP MALL - DAY A squad car squeals into the parking lot, lights and sirens. Jolts to a stop in front of “Ingo Gunnarson, Dentist”. INT. DENTIST’S OFFICE - DAY Ingo slumps, head on hands, eyes an inch from the photo of Woman In Red. He smiles. He kisses the picture. He stands, crosses to Nadia’s purse. Pulls out the bright yellow slip with wet red fingers. Blood smears on the paper. INSERT - BRIGHT YELLOW SLIP Reads: “Meter Violation -- No Parking Zone -- $35 Fine.” BACK TO SCENE Ingo trembles, shakes his head, drops the paper. INGO No. No, no. Nonononononononononono. Ingo rips the purse apart, flings stuff all over the office. The door bangs open. POLICEMAN #2 points a gun inside. Ingo looks up, wild look, blood all over his face and white coat. Policeman #2 looks at Nadia’s mutilated body, gulps. MOMENTS LATER Ingo lays facedown, hands cuffed behind him. Policeman #2 kneels on his back, searches him. INGO But... you don’t understand... she told me... I heard her... she confessed... FADE TO BLACK.