Personification Station

(A man knocks on the door of a house. It is opened by a gentleman wearing a bathrobe)

Murder: Good evening. I am the personification of the emotion “Murder.” I’ve come to kill you.

Immortality: I’m sorry, “Murder” but I am the personification of the emotion “Immortality.” You can not kill me.

Murder: I see…Quite a coincidence that we are both personifications of things.

Immortality: It is.

Murder: Hey, let’s team up! We could join together.

Immortality: No thank you. Then I’d literally have to live with guilt forever.

Murder: Come on. It’s exciting.

Immortality: Fine then.

(Immortality and Murder meld together and approach a young woman)

Immortality/Murder: You’re dead meat!

(Immortality/Murder kill the young woman off-screen. A shoe flies towards the camera. There is blood on it.)

Immortailty/Murder: Quick! Get her wallet!

(sounds of Immortality/Murder getting the wallet.)

Immortality/Murder: Well we killed her. Lets see who it was.

(Immortality/Murder open the wallet and check the Driver’s License. The Driver’s License says that the young woman, an organ donor, was the personification of the emotion “Properly Caring for Pets.”)

Immortality/Murder: What have we done?! We’ve killed another personification!

(Immortality/Murder unmeld and become individual personifications again)

Immortality: Look what you made me do!

Murder: Yes!

(Murder begins softly singing the song Amazing Grace)

Immortality: Now, every time I see someone forget to feed their dog, I will know it is my fault and I will cry. I will cry until the end of time, for my grief cannot end. For my grief, like the rest of me, is Immortal.

Later:

Immortality: Do you see this grain of sand? This single grain of sand is very, very old. It is not as old as the Earth, but it might be close. I am older than this grain of sand. I’d guess this grain of sand is maybe 3 billion years old, so…think about how long I’ve been around.

(A dog has fleas and mange)

Immortality: Let me die!

Professor: Sir, as I was neglecting to feed my parrot, I couldn’t help but overhear your dilemma.

Immortality: (sobs in a monotone staccato)

Professor: Am I correct in assuming that you’re the personification of the emotion Immortality?

Immortality: Uh-huh…

Professor: And did I hear that you’d like to die, but you can’t because you’re immortal?

Immortality: That’s so weird that you heard me.

Professor: So guess what!

Immortality: What?

Professor: I think I know a way you can die.

Immortality: No way! With science?

Professor: No. Science is a lie. We’d kill you with logic! You see, all you’d need to do is kill the personification of the emotion “Personification.”

Immortality: I wouldn’t have to live with my guilt! But….but wouldn’t killing the personification of the emotion “Personification” kill all of the other emotion personifications?

Professor: Uh-huh.

Immortality: I….I don’t think I could do it. Maybe I should just live with my guilt.

Professor: It’s your funeral.

Immortality: No...no it isn't.

(A cat’s litter box hasn’t been changed in like a year)

Immortality: I’ll do it!

Professor: Yes!

Later:

Professor: It’s me, the personification of the emotion “Murder”! I became a professor, but I still like making people kill other people!

Personification: Don’t do it, Immorality.

Professor Murder: Maybe a ferret just starved to death!

Immortality: What do I do?!

Decision Making: I am the personification of the emoticon Decision Making. Maybe I can help.

Doesn't Anybody Car/e?

Marcus: You can call me Marcus. I am a car.

(Shot of a man driving a 2003 Brown Honda Civic)

Marcus: I cannot speak. I cannot communicate in any way. Despite my wishes, my thoughts are mine alone; they are trapped within the very confines of my existence. I am a car.

(The 2003 Brown Honda Civic stops at a red light)

Marcus: The man, the driver, uses me to take him from place to place. I have no say. I go where he steers me.

(The 2003 Brown Honda Civic takes a free right turn at the light)

Marcus: You get used to it. Like it or not, it’s what I was made for. Sometimes, I pass others and wonder, “Do they think as I do? Are they equally trapped, equally muted in their steel-frame bodies?”

(A car passes the 2003 Brown Honda Civic)

Marcus: But I’ll never know. I’m just a car. Life is passing me by as I pass it by.

(The 2003 Brown Honda Civic pulls into a gas station)

Marcus: Loneliness is my unseen passenger.

(The driver gets out of the car and goes into the gas station)

Marcus: My driver likes coffee and peanut butter cups. He wears suits on Sundays and he often forgets his briefcase. He likes talk radio. That’s all I know about him.

(The driver comes back and starts up the 2003 Brown Honda Civic)

Marcus: I like him okay, I guess.

(The driver pulls out of the parking lot)

Marcus: I wish he knew more people. Another passenger would be nice. Any change of pace.

(It starts to rain)

Marcus: How long will I be here? How long is this going to go on?

(The 2003 Brown Honda Civic drives a generic, uneventful street)

Marcus: Sometimes I hope the driver will get into an accident. I don’t want him to get hurt, I just wonder if I’ll be able to feel anything. Even pain would be something.

(The 2003 Brown Honda Civic drives through a mud puddle and gets covered in grime)

Marcus: I’ve never cared about being clean. That was always the driver’s thing. But now, when I get dirty, he doesn’t seem to care. I guess I kinda miss the caring.

(The driver, crying, stops at the Golden Gate Bridge. He steps out and jumps off. The 2003 Brown Honda Civic remains in Neutral with the driver’s door open)

Marcus: He’s not coming back. I’m so alone. Maybe a car will hit me. Maybe it’ll hit me and push me over the bridge. I wanted to come too, driver. I wanted to come too.

(A teenage gang member gets into the 2003 Brown Honda Civic and drives off)

Marcus: I’m being stolen. I don’t know how to feel.

Later:

(The 2003 Brown Honda Civic is in the bottom of a gully, stripped of its wheels, grill, seats, steering wheel etc.)

Marcus: No one will find me. No one knows I’m gone. I just want this to stop. Why am I here if I can’t talk, can’t even scream?

(It gently starts to rain. From the top of the gully, two teenage boys take aim and start firing their bb rifles at the 2003 Brown Honda Civic.)

Two by Two Means Me and You

History Scholar: Think about it. Noah was on his ark for a long time. The ark had to have two of every creature. Some might say it’d be impossible to feed that many animals.

Chet: I wouldn’t say that.

History Scholar: Well you’d be fucking wrong. As this chart of animal metabolism shows, there is no possible way that an ark of the Bible’s specific dimensions could contain two of every animal and enough food to feed them all.

Chet: What are you saying, History Scholar?

History Scholar: I’m saying that God enchanted the ark. I’m saying the animals didn’t need to eat while on the ark.

Chet: But that means…

History Scholar: That’s right, Chet. Wherever the ark is, trapped inside of it are animals no one has never seen, animals who have lived inside the ark since the Great Flood but remain alive because they haven’t needed to eat anything. Finding the ark would be the single greatest discovery in the history of biology. Alas, the ark’s location is one of the world’s most unsolvable mysteries.

Chet: I know where the ark is!

History Scholar: I know you do, Chet. That’s why I’ve asked you here. As Noah’s sole surviving relative, that knowledge has been passed down to you for generations. Tell me, where is the Earth hiding the ark?

Chet: It’s in the Sahara Desert!

(Upon hearing this, a man that was hiding in the library’s shadows silently slips away. His silhouette shows that he has tentacles instead of arms and at the end’s of the tentacles are holding rapiers.)

History Scholar: Excellent! We’ll leave tomorrow.

Later:

History Scholar: Think about it, Chet. This single grain of sand has lived through more history than all of mankind put together.

Chet: What about this sand?

History Scholar: Yes. That one too. Every sand.

Chet: And we’re in the Sahara! There’s sand everywhere!

History Scholar: Indeed. And somewhere in this desert, buried beneath billions of grains of sand, is our ark. And in that ark? Creatures never before seen.

Chet: I can’t wait, Mr. Scholar. I’ve never had a pet before.

(The silhouette of the tentacle-armed man slips further back into the desert’s shadows.

Later:

Lars Adolph: Yes, thank you gentlemen for doing all of the work for me. Now I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you both to step away from the ark. (points guns at History Scholar)

History Scholar: I see. I might have known it was you, Lars. You’ve been the mole all along.

Lars Adolph: The mole? Hmmm. Perhaps, by your bastardization of the word. I prefer to call myself an infiltrator. The real mole, the true mole, stepped off of this ark almost 5000 years ago.

Chet: So what? You’re just going to kill us and take all of the credit for discovering the unknown creatures?

Lars Adolph: Damn the credit! I’m going to be rich beyond my wildest dreams! Don’t you get it?

History Scholar: Get what?

Lars Adolph: Oh my gosh! You really don’t get it!

Chet: Fine, but could you please tell us?

Lars Adolph: Okay. In this ark, nothing needs food! But what is more, in this ark, you can live forever! I can chop it up into a billion pieces and sell each sliver for a million dollars! I’m talking about immortality, gentlemen. I’m talking about the power of God. I can use this ark to gain the unlimited wealth which I can then use to fund my unlimited life span.

Chet: But what about the mysterious animals that are living inside?

Lars Adolph: I couldn’t care less. I’m allergic. Let. Them. DIE!

(Lars Adolph shoots his machine gun into the air)

History Scholar: Chet?

Chet: Yes, Mr. Scholar?

History Scholar: I’m scared.

Even Later:

Lars Adolph: Okay, but I must warn you. I was the rapier champion at Cambridge. Never lost a match

Tentacle-Armed Man: Consider myself warned.

(They duel, both of them using two rapiers.)

History Scholar: Quick, while Lars is distracted! Lets see what those ark animals look like!

Chet: I’m on it.

Latest:

History Scholar: Tentacle-Armed Man! You’re bleeding!

Tentacle-Armed Man: Yes, I’m afraid Lars had quite a talent with rapiers.

Chet: But you’re going to be okay, right?

Tentacle-Armed Man: Oh Chet… I don’t think so. Not this time.

Chet: But you can’t die! You’re my friend!

Tentacle-Armed Man: I’ve been alive for almost 5000 years. That’s a long time, Chet. It’s too long, frankly. It’s my time to go. I have tentacles.

Chet: No!

Shine A Light On Cave (Updated Revision)

Tirby: I don’t know... This cave is really dark. There could be bears or something in here. Maybe we should find something else to go into.

Helen: Oh come on, Tirby. Give me a break! We’re in a forest!

Tirby: Fine. We’ll go into the cave then.

(Helen and Tirby go into the cave and they keep walking even though they can’t see anything. Time passes, as it is wont to.)

Tirby: Hey Helen. Did you know I have a cousin who is blind?

Helen: That must be so hard. Because if you think about it, the earth is really beautiful.

Tirby: I know.

Helen: Hey Tirby?

Tirby: Yeah, Helen?

Helen: I’ve been dead for like an hour now.

Tirby: That is so funny, Helen.

Helen: You’re right. I was joking.

Tirby: Oh.

Helen: Except I’m not joking! I’m dead. I tripped and snapped my neck back there.

Tirby: What? So you’re a ghost?

Helen: Do I feel like a ghost?

(Sounds of Helen putting Tirby in a full-nelson.)

Tirby: Woah. So if you’re not a ghost, then what are you?

Helen: Who knows. It’s like pitch black in here.

Tirby: Hey, let’s dig up a bunch of corpses and bring them in the cave and see if the cave makes them come alive.

Helen: Okay. I’ll wait here because I can’t leave the cave and I know that because I wrote it in my diary yesterday because I’m a psychic.

Tirby: Okay. I’ll go get a bunch of corpses.

(Tirby goes to the surfer prisoner cemetery and digs up a bunch of surfer prisoner corpses. He puts them all in a huge wheelbarrow and brings it to the cave.)

Surfer Prisoner: We’re going to kill you, Tirby.

(In the dark and through the chaos, the sounds of Tirby putting on his rollerblades are heard)

Tirby: Not today, surfer prisoners.

(Sounds of Tirby rollerblading deeper and deeper into the cave, deftly jumping over obstacles and stalagmites that he can’t even see.)

Helen: Tirby? Why’d you bring surfer prisoner corpses?!

Tirby: I’m sorry! I thought one of the bodies might be…I thought I might find my dad.

Helen: Oh Tirby…I’m so sorry. You never told me.

Tirby: Well…I never met my dad. Mom said she never told him I existed. It was a one-night-stand kinda thing. She didn’t even know his name.

Helen: Then…how do you know he was a surfer prisoner, Tirby?

Tirby: How? Because he never came looking for me. He never checked, never called my mom back. That kind of person should be in the ocean jail.

Helen: You’ve damned us all, Tirby. Damned us all.

(Sounds of the surfer prisoners getting closer)

Tirby: Sorry. Hey Helen? Have you figured out what you are yet? I mean, you’re not a ghost, but you’re dead and still talking. Make some sense out of that.

Helen: Tirby, please. Will you get off my back? I don’t know. Shine a light on me and we can find out.

Tirby: But what if you’re a monster that lives in this cave and somehow, nobody knows how, you can read the mind of corpses and animate them and you do it all so that people will shine a light on them because maybe light gives you some kind of power.

Helen: NAILED IT!

Tirby: ????!

Helen: RAAARRGH!

(Tirby is heard screaming and then quickly relacing his pro-quality rollerblades.)

Tirby: I got these rollerblades as a Christmas present!

Helen: COOL.

Tirby: I’m sorry, Helen. I’m sorry you died.

Helen: RAAARRGH!

Tirby: But tell me one thing, cave monster. Helen…the real Helen…when she was alive…was she ever really a psychic?

Helen: YOU BET.

Tirby: Later!

(Tirby is heard rollerblading and making a gun out of a stalagmite.)

Later:

Helen: Maybe I’m just an animated corpse and maybe this will all end tomorrow, but I need you to know…I’ve fallen in love with you.

Surfer Prisoner: I love you too. I’m Tirby’s dad.

Helen: Let’s go find him and force him to shine light on us.

Surfer Prisoner: I can’t see a damn thing.

Later:

Tirby: I’ve got to go to the bathroom!

Later:

Tirby: Thank you. And what I have come to learn, everyone, is that when things are dark, when it looks like there’s no light at all and it couldn’t possibly get any darker, if during these times you really try and open up your soul, then during these times you can see more clearly than you ever have before.

(Tirby pops his collar)

Mayor: He murdered Helen! Stab him!

Tirby: Oh shit!

The Thing about Frim-Fram

Neil: Geez, my stomach really hurts.

Neil’s Mom: God. Drive yourself to the doctor if it hurts so much.

Neil: Fine, I will. Drive yourself to the bar if you need to drink so much.

Neil’s Mom: Fine, I will.

Neil and Neil’s mom both get in separate cars and drive away.

(While Neil is driving to the doctor, his stomach bursts open. Inside is a furry creature that peaks out from Neil’s stomach and smiles at him)

Neil: AAAAAAGH!!! What the fuck?

(Neil bleeds all over his car.)

Frim-Fram: Hey Neil! I’m Frim-Fram, your stomach pet! Don’t worry about the bleeding, I can patch this up in no time!

(Frim-Fram licks the area around Neil’s wound and the bleeding stops. Frim-Fram remains half-emerged from Neil’s stomach. He looks up at Neil and smiles, proud of himself.)

Frim-Fram: Sorry about that. I just wanted to meet you so badly!

Neil: I’m dreaming. I’ve got to be dreaming.

Frim-Fram: Well that’s not true. And is that any way to meet somebody new? Tell them they’re not real?

Neil: Sorry, I just…I don’t know what’s going on. People have stomach pets?

Frim-Fram: Some people do! The lucky ones do!

Neil: The lucky ones? I’ve got a talking furry creature poking out of my stomach. How is that lucky?! I’m a freak! What am I gonna do in P.E.? Everyone will see!

Frim-Fram: Oh, you’ll be fine.

Neil: God, and not just P.E! Even with a shirt on I’ve still got this football sized talking protrusion sticking out! I can’t hide that!

Frim-Fram: Come on! I’m Frim-Fram! You’re supposed to be happy! We’re supposed to be friends!

Neil: I’ve got friends!

Frim-Fram: No you don’t Neil…. You know, I’ve been in your stomach for a long time… The other kids they just….they just don’t understand you. But now, now you’ll have a friend with you wherever you go! And I’ll help you make new friends!

Neil: You mean…you’re going to make me popular?

Frim-Fram: You bet I will, Neil. I’m Frim-Fram! I’m a stomach pet!

Later

Neil: No, Frim-Fram, they don’t like me, they like YOU!

(Frim-Fram puts on his sunglasses)

Frim-Fram: Frim-Fram!

Later:

(Phone Rings)

Neil: Hello? This is Neil. Oh, hey Heather! How are you? Oh…you want to talk to Frim-Fram? Oh. Just a second. (to Frim-Fram) Here. It’s for you.

(Neil hands the phone to Frim-Fram)

Frim-Fram: Hey baby. You used the dial and made me smile. …. Shoot girl ….Yeah, I’m interested…. For you, anything….I’ll have Neil walk me over…. Yeah, I can bring the booze…

Neil: (whispering) I’m 16, Frim-Fram! I’m not getting alcohol! I’m not going to take you anywhere.

Frim-Fram: (still on the phone) Alright, Heather. See you in ten. And Heather? Wear something…comfortable.

(Frim-Fram hangs up the phone)

Neil: Damn it, Frim-Fram! I’m tired of this! For four months you promise me popularity, but all I am is just a tag-along! Nobody wants to talk to me! I’m just some third wheel whose stomach pet girls like to make out with!

Neil’s Mom: You’re a loser! My kid is a freak loser!

Neil: Have another drink, Mom! Maybe that’ll solve your problems!

Frim-Fram: Calm down, Neil. Like I said, this is all part of the process. These girls are gonna fall in love with me and I’m gonna break their hearts. And whose shoulder can they lean on then? Yours. Just sweep in and take care of them. And once everybody sees how many girls you’re getting, you’ll have more friends than you know what to do with!

Neil: I don’t like it. I’ve changed my mind. I want to do this on my own.

Frim-Fram: Don’t make me laugh. Didn’t you hear what your mom said? You’re a loser! You can’t do shit on your own. Now shut up and walk me over to Heather’s place. I have a feeling she wants to do more than make out tonight.

Neil: No.

Frim-Fram: What did you just say?

Neil: No. No, I’m not going over there. Heather’s a nice girl and I’m not going to be a part of this.

Frim-Fram: You better be real careful what you say, son. You best think real hard. Remember, I’ve got my feet resting here in your insides. Right now they’re sitting there all peaceful like. But they’ve got claws, Neil. They’ve got claws and they’re starting to feel restless.

Neil: You’d…you’d kill me?

Frim-Fram: Without a second thought. Without remorse and without blinking an eye.

Neil: But you’re…you’re my stomach pet!

Frim-Fram: Wake up, Neil. Who’s whose pet?

Later:

Shobo-Nobo: I’m Frim-Fram’s stomach pet!

Neil: This can’t be happening!

Neil’s Mom: Nobody cares, Neil. You’re a failure. You’ll always be failure.