Whither the Wizard?

Scene: An old rickety mansion that is lit by oil lamps. It is the year 1944. A group of distinguished people have all just arrived

Mr. Galton: Thank you all for coming.

Tess Moonbloom: But why are we here? Why have we been summoned? Who are you?

Mr. Galton: You may call me Mr. Galton, and you are here because one of you…in this very room…is a magical Wizard.

Clyde Banter: Ha! That’s preposterous!

Orson Frock: I agree. My apologies, gentlemen, I didn’t realize this would be such a clear waste of time. I must be leaving.

Mr. Galton: Yes. Precisely the words a wizard would say.

Orson Frock: I see. You’re saying I’m the wizard?

Mr. Galton: No. But you very well might be. And your urgency to leave certainly raises suspicions.

Tess Moonbloom: Yes…yes it does….He is a wizard! Kill him!

Mr. Galton: Kill him? I believe a magical wizard would suggest that as well.

Tess Moonbloom: But I’m not a wizard!

Orson Frock: She’s the wizard! Kill her!

Mr. Galton: Mr. Frock, I have just stated that suggesting we kill a wizard is something a wizard would do. When combined with your other statement about leaving, you are up to two wizard points. Tess, you’re at one wizard point. Everyone else: zero.

Diana Ellington: I’m speechless! Speechless!

Mr. Galton: I should hope that’s not true, Mrs. Ellington. For if you are the wizard, being speechless would leave you unable to cast spells.

Diana Ellington: So now you’re accusing me? How many points am I at?

Mr. Galton: Is that a peacock feather in your hat?

Diana Ellington: …Yes.

Mr. Galton: You’re at 1 wizard point.

Diana Ellington: Absurd.

Mr. Galton: 2 wizard points! You see, I’m afraid I’m accusing everyone here of magical wizardry. While only one of you is a true magical wizard, despite my best efforts I’ve not been able to determine who.

(Mr. Galton hovers a foot off of the ground)

Tess Moonbloom: Mr. Galton! You’re…you’re floating!

Mr. Galton: What?! Who’s doing this?! Who’s making me float?! Whoever it is, this is worth 5 wizard points!!

(Mr. Galton continues to hover, flailing his arms and feet, but still unable to touch the ground)

Mr. Galton: Stop it right now or God help me, when I find out who did this it will be worth 10 wizard points!

(Mr. Galton falls to the ground, shaken but otherwise unharmed)

Mr. Galton: Was that you, Mr. Banter? Were you making me float? You’ve been awfully quiet lately.

Clyde Banter: It wasn’t me, Mr. Galton. I’m just been trying to keep quiet. I don’t want any wizard points.

Mr. Galton: Very wise, Mr. Banter. I like that. But was it wise like a wizard? Because that I don’t like!

Clyde Banter: It was wise like a man!

Mr. Galton: Very well. No points. Nevertheless, as my floating has clearly proven, magical wizards are real and there is one among us right now. By the end of the night, I promise you we will know who it is.

Later, in the parlor with the red leather chairs

Mr. Galton: No, Mr. Banton. You currently have only 3 wizard points. That is not what I find worrisome. What I find worrisome is the fact that you have 14, Mr. Banton, Fourteen Dracula points!

Clyde Banter: I just can’t win with you, can I, Mr. Galton?

Mr. Galton: 15 Dracula points! It’s three o’clock in the morning. The sun will be coming up in a few hours. And maybe that doesn’t scare our mysterious wizard, but I bet it scares you, doesn’t it Mr. Dracula?

Clyde Banter: Please. Don’t call me that.

Mr. Galton: Very well.

Later, in the ballroom with the checkerboard floor

Tess Moonbloom: Do tell us, Mr. Galton. How did you come to believe that the wizard was one of us?

Mr. Galton: A note was left on my doorstep. It said so right on it.

Diana Ellington: A note? Let me see it.

Mr. Galton: No. I lost it.

Diana Ellington: You lost it? I don’t believe you. You know what I think? I think there never was a note, Mr. Galton. I think we’re here at the whim of a madman.

Mr. Galton: Mind reading! That’s 4 wizard points! You’re up to 11 wizard points now, Mrs. Ellington! I suggest you watch it.

Orson Frock: I just want to go home!

Mr. Galton: No one’s going home! No! Everyone’s staying right here. With me. There’s a wizard in this house. We’re going to find him. And, if while we’re looking for him we all become friends, would that really be so bad?

Tess Moonbloom: What are you saying, Mr. Galton?

Mr. Galton: (sighs) I guess…I guess what I’m saying is… wizard hunting doesn’t have to be such lonely work. I just want to be friends with you.

(A fireball starts to form out of thin air. Then it goes away without doing anything)

Orson Frock: Mr. Galton, how can we be friends with you? We’ve known you for a total of 5 hours, and the entire time you’ve just been accusing us of magical wizardry.

Mr. Galton: My apologies, Orson. Can I call you Orson? Allow me to explain. You see, if someone gave you the chance to be a wizard, wouldn’t you take it? Understand - You wouldn’t have to be a bad wizard. You could be a good one. My meaning is that wizards can fly and make fireballs and enchant things and all of those things sound very enticing! Personally, I think being accused of magical wizardry is more of a compliment than anything else. I apologize for any misunderstanding Orson, but I’ve been trying to compliment you – and all of the other guests – for these last 5 hours.

Clyde Banter: Mr. Galton? Thank you.

Diana Ellington: Yes. Thank you.

Tess Moonbloom: Mr. Galton? It’s me. I’m the magical wizard.

Mr. Galton: 10 wizard points! Kill her! She’s the devil’s spawn!

Later, in the billiard room with floating daggers waiting outside every door:

Mr. Galton: We’re overmatched! The only one who can defeat her is Dracula!

Clyde Banter: I keep telling you, Mr. Galton! I am not Dracula!

Mr. Galton: Another Dracula point! That’s 17 points now, Clyde.

Clyde Banter: Mr. Galton, I can’t suddenly become a Dracula just because you choose to give me Dracula points.

Mr. Galton: Then we’re doomed.

Drug Suitcase

Trichelle: I can’t be with you anymore, Clive. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t love me.

Clive: Come on, Trichelle, It’s not that I don’t love you. I so do. It’s just that sometimes I’m too sleepy to say it!

Trichelle: To sleepy? That is b.s.! Narcolepsy isn’t even real! You don’t love me!

Clive: Narcolepsy is real, Trichelle! And I do too! I do too love you!

Trichelle: I’m not even a little bit convinced.

Clive: What do I have to do to convince you?

Trichelle: You probably can’t convince me!

Clive: I’ll do whatever it takes to convince you, Trichelle. Right… (yawn)…right after this nap…

Trichelle: This is unreal, Clive. This is unreal.

Clive: (snore)

(8 hours later)

Clive: (awaking) Trichelle? Trichelle are you still there?

(Clive looks around to see that she has gone)

Clive: Damn it! I probably love her and I need to prove it to her!

Nelson: Hey Clive, I can help you out, baby.

Clive: Oh no! Nelson, you are a drug dealer. You can’t help me out.

Nelson: Oh yes I can. I can help you stay awake cool. Look, I’ve got speeeeeeeed….

(Nelson opens up the suitcase he was carrying. The suitcase appears to glow a little and a ton of speed pills spill onto the floor.)

Clive: Come on. You’re telling me that those speed pills will stop me from getting sleepy?

Nelson: You bet I am, mamma-jamma.

Clive: Right sure but you just want to get me hooked on drugs.

Nelson: Mmmm-hmmmm…

Clive: Okay…well…how much for the suitcase?

Nelson: How about I give you this suitcase full of speed and you give me Trichelle?

Clive: What?

Nelson: It’s easy breezy, baby. You give me Trichelle and you get this whole suitcase full of speed. Oh my God, it’s so fly.

Clive: I…I can’t get Trichelle unless I have speed, and I can’t get the speed unless I give up Trichelle!

Nelson: Oooh-weee!

Clive: I guess…I guess the only thing I can do is agree. I lose Trichelle either way. At least this way I get a suitcase full of speed.

Nelson: Now you’re catchin’ on! Shooot….

(Nelson hands Clive the suitcase full of speed and then walks away with a limp)

Clive: Wait! Nelson! You didn’t tell me how many of these pills I’m supposed to take!

(Nelson doesn’t answer so Clive takes a lot of pills)

Clive: I’m invincible! I can run like a bullet! I can jump like a kangaroo! With this energy I can stay awake! I can win Trichelle back! Goodness, my heart...my heart is beating so fast!

(Clive runs and jumps extremely fast. His eyes are wide open and his teeth are clenched. But the dangerous drugs are soon too much, and he quickly begins screaming)

Clive: AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!

(Clive’s heart literally bursts out of his chest. Clive falls to the floor and his eyes watch in amazement as his heart, still beating, bounces down the hill. Clive was on a hill when this happened)

Clive: ….I’m…so…sleepy….

(Clive dies. Just as he does, eight-year-old Terry Yondle walks up and sees the closed speed suitcase)

Terry: Oh boy a suitcase! I’m gonna play businessman!

(Terry takes the suitcase and walks away)

Elsewhere, down the hill:

Trichelle: I don’t know, Nelson. You’re a bad boy and I like that, but I don’t know if I’m ready for you. You see, I just broke up with Clive like eight hours ago.

Nelson: Oh baby, baby. You’ve been ready for me for a long time. Shoot. Let’s not kid ourselves, I’ve seen where your eyes wander.

Trichelle: Well…as long as you don’t hurt anybody.

(Clive’s beating heart, bounces into Trichelle’s forehead)

Trichelle: (screams) This…this heart! Oh my God, this heart! I know it! I’d know it anywhere! It’s mine. He said it’s always been mine, and he was just using it. Clive…he’d always say that (Clive had said these words earlier, perhaps during the credits?) But if this is the heart he was using, that means….CLIVE IS DEAD! You did this to him, didn’t you Nelson?! I hate you! You and I will never be!

(Trichelle runs away crying)

Nelson: (to himself) Well if I don’t get Trichelle, that means Clive don’t get the suitcase full of speed! I’m gonna go get what’s mine!

I Will Try Not To Breathe, I Will Hold My Head High

Synopsis: It is the not-too-distant future. The world is almost out of air. Instead of fighting for oil, people fight for the air they need to breathe.

Belto: I…I can’t breathe!

Hellwren (through Belto's earpiece): Shit, Belto! You’re in a no-air zone and your tank is on empty! Break out your emergency flora!

(Belto takes out a single rose encased in a small glass dome. He breaks the glass and we see the rose drinking heavy from the surrounding carbon dioxide. Soon it emits slow but steady bursts of oxygen and Belto gasps the oxygen greedily.)

Belto: Thanks, Hellwren. Close one.

Hellwren: Don’t waste time thanking me, Belto! Your rose only has 5 minutes. That means you’ve only got 5 minutes before you run out of air!

Belto (muttering): I could have sworn my oxygen tank was full. And at $4.00 for every gallon of oxygen, I think I know when I fill up my tank!

(Belto, the rose kept close to his nose, runs to an area marked breathing zone. He breathes the air just as his life-giving rose dies. Hellwren is waiting for him)

Hellwren: You wanna be another of those choke-isides? What’s the matter with you? You almost got yourself killed!

Belto: I don’t know what happened! I just filled up my oxygen tank two hours ago!

Hellwren: Then why does it say “empty”? Wait! It doesn’t say “empty” at all….it says “full of oxygen.” Belto, this thing has been tampered with. By enemies. Do you have any enemies?

Belto: Hmm, let me think, Hellwren…Let’s see….do you think….do you think it’s possible that I made enemies in the Oxygen Conglomerates by starting to research how to get breathable oxygen from carbon dioxide?

Hellwren: You’re a marked man, Belto.

Belto: Don’t I know it. This wasn’t the first attempt on my life, Hellwren.

Hellwren: You need to defend yourself. You need to take precautions.

Belto: This wasn’t the first attempt on my life, Hellwren. It was the fourth. I barely survived the first attempt, and as a response I had a very controversial surgery.

Hellwren: No way.

Belto: Yes way, Hellwren. I had all of my fingers surgically made into gun barrels and now I can load bullets into my wrist and shoot bullets from my fingers. It’s the ultimate surprise weapon, and when I point at someone it means their days are numbered.

Hellwren: That surgery is illegal, Belto.

Belto: So is murder, Hellwren. So is murder. And so is Oxygen extortion, which is what I believe is going on here. People can’t breathe, and someone, someone is making a mint.

(Belto turns away from Hellwren, and we see Hellwren secretly throw away the missing parts of Belto’s oxygen tank gauge.)

Hellwren: Oh, I think you’re being paranoid, Belto.

Belto: Shut the fuck up, Hellwren. There is a war going on. People need air, Hellwren, and people die every day by way of suffication.

Hellwren: Yeah.

Belto: NO.

Hellwren: Well it’s not like we can do anything about it. One person can’t make a difference.

Belto: Well I’m going to make a difference.

(Belto shoots bullets from his finger-guns into the air)

Belto: I’m enlisting in the Army, Hellwren. I’m going to war so that everyone can have oxygen.

Hellwren: That is batshit bullshit, my friend. I think that high oxygen prices are both fair and reasonable. I mean, after all you can’t put a price on life, now can you? And you need oxygen to live.

Belto: I’m going to use my fingers for good. I’m going to make a difference by making oxygen free for everyone.

Hellwren: Well, if anyone can do it, it’s you’ Belto.

Hellwren (to himself): That is why I must kill you. With your own finger-guns