Ordinary Time

In a world of non-stop holidays, what is the impact of a ho-hum day?

ORDINARY TIME
by Kyle Patrick Johnson
Represented by:
Canton Literary Management (CLM)
Contact: Eric Canton
(866) 429-3118
ECanton@Prodigy.net
www.CantonLiteraryManagement.com
FADE IN:
INT. KITCHEN - DAY
A glum head propped on two world-weary fists, cheeks squashed
flat. Two listless eyes peer out at a bleak world. Pale lips
puckered, ready to blow.
This is RONNIE (13) at the kitchen table. He wears a tattered
party hat perched at an uncaring angle, strapped-on remnant
of a faded joy. A sole candle plunked in a massive iced sheet
cake, four feet wide.
Ronnie blows. The candle goes out.
His parents clap, delirious with pasted-on happiness. One on
either side of him, they almost seem like hovering prison
guards: GERALDINE (50) and JIM (60).
GERALDINE
Happy January fifth!
JIM
Well, go on!
Ronnie reaches for a knife, cuts the cake.
Dirty dishes by the sink display uneaten leftovers of apple
pie, ice cream, chocolate pudding. Candy wrappers litter the
floor near the garbage can.
Ronnie distributes the slices. He stares down at his piece.
JIM
Eat up, Ronnie. It’s a holiday.
Geraldine and Jim dig in, delight in every icing-sweet bite.
GERALDINE
What’ll we do tomorrow?
JIM
What’s tomorrow?
GERALDINE
A holiday!
JIM
Gee whiz, a holiday? Which one?
GERALDINE
January sixth, silly!
Ronnie turns from his cake in disgust.
JIM
Ronnie, not hungry?
GERALDINE
The sixth, let’s see.
JIM
You have to grow up strong. Eat
your breakfast, son.
RONNIE
I want to go to school.
GERALDINE
Sixth, sixth-- School?
JIM
But it’s a holiday, Ronnie.
Ronnie slides a hand up to his head, slow, strips the party
hat off his head, slow, slow. He gets out of his chair, plods
out, shoulders bowed.
Jim watches him go, not a spark of concern. As soon as Ronnie
is around the corner, Jim snatches Ronnie’s piece of cake.
INT. RONNIE’S ROOM - DAY
Ronnie sits on his bed, watches out the window. Clumps of
CHILDREN sit in the neighboring yards and streets, wear party
hats. Each Child bows over a personal handheld video game
systems. Wrapping paper wafts in a gentle breeze.
The bedroom is cluttered with dirty clothes, toys, video
games. The floor might be somewhere under the mess.
Geraldine enters, hands on hips.
GERALDINE
Look at this room, Ronnie.
Ronnie looks.
GERALDINE
You’ll have to clean this up after
the holidays.
Ronnie nods.
Jim leans in the doorway.
2.
JIM
You should get outside, Ronnie. I
hear it’s going to rain later.
RONNIE
I’m bored of playing.
Jim and Geraldine share a knowing look. Jim whips a present
out from behind his back, a small wrapped item.
Ronnie peels the wrapping paper, casual: a video game.
JIM
It’s a game!
Ronnie nods at the absurd obviousness.
Geraldine rumples Ronnie’s hair, kisses his head.
GERALDINE
Happy January fifth.
Geraldine and Jim leave.
Ronnie.
Alone.
INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY
Jim watches a ball game on the television. He lounges in
complete feet-up beer-gut remote-control comfort.
Rain begins to fall outside, gentle against the windows.
Panicked PARENTS under umbrellas sprint through the
sprinkles, shepherd their absorbed Children indoors.
Jim doesn’t notice the tableau outside, absorbed in the TV.
INT. KITCHEN - DAY
Ronnie slumps, head on crossed forearms, the ragged party hat
even more askew.
He stares at a candle, on a cake with written icing: “Happy
January 6th, Ronnie!” A wrapped present rests next to the
cake: the same size and shape as the video game earlier.
Geraldine and Jim clasp their hands, await Ronnie’s exhale.
3.
INT. RONNIE’S ROOM - DAY
Ronnie lies face up on his bed, plays a video game without
even looking at his big-screen television, a remarkable
mastery of the controller.
The room is messier, dirtier.
INT. KITCHEN - DAY
Ronnie’s chin on the table, stares at a candle. This cake:
“Happy January 7th!” Another present, same size.
He looks sick to his stomach.
He blows. The candle goes out. Geraldine and Jim clap.
The eroded elastic band of the party hat snaps in two. Ronnie
doesn’t even flinch.
INT. RONNIE’S ROOM - DAY
Ronnie lays on his bed, arms splayed, the portrait of apathy.
MONTAGE - INT. KITCHEN - DAY
A succession of cakes...
- “Happy January Great Eight!”
- “Happy January Divine Nine!”
- “Amen! It’s 1-10!”
- “It’s Heaven! January Eleven!”
INT. RONNIE’S ROOM - NIGHT
Dark, Ronnie sleeps in bed.
Geraldine opens his door, creeps in. She stumbles her way
across the treacherous floor, kisses him on the head.
GERALDINE
(whisper)
I love you, Ronnie. Hope you’ll be
all right with a regular day.
Geraldine leaves.
4.
Ronnie’s eyes snap open.
INT. KITCHEN - DAY
Ronnie, excited, shovels huge spoonfuls of corn flakes into
his ravenous mouth.
Jim, hair tousled, rubs his eyes, checks his morning breath.
JIM
Slow down there, Ronnie. It’s just
cereal.
RONNIE
(mouth full)
I know!
Geraldine, in a terry cloth bathrobe, holds up a bookbag.
GERALDINE
It’s almost time. Sorry.
After one last milky bite, Ronnie races from the table,
snatches the bookbag from Geraldine’s hand, flies from the
kitchen like a rocket.
RONNIE (O.C.)
Bye, Mom!
EXT. RONNIE’S HOUSE - DAY
Ronnie slams the front door, stands on the porch.
Rain splashes to the ground in torrents, churns the front
yard into a mudbath.
Ronnie’s eyes open wide. He bites his lip in anticipation.
He jumps off the front porch.
He lands in the muddy front yard.
A solid sheet of mud and water splashes straight up, shoots
past his ankles, above his knees, beyond his waist, his
shoulders, and hides Ronnie’s delirious, exuberant, joyful
smile.
FADE OUT.
5.