Int. The Castle, Living Room - Day
The living room's white walls are lightly stained from the beer of parties past. The beige carpet dingy yet clean enough to rest on. There are three couches that do not match forming a semi circle around a large flat screen TV positioned on a six-foot wooden table, game systems and assorted clatter litter the table as well. Behind the TV is a partition in the kitchen. The kitchen is the size of a narrow walk-in closet. There is a open door-frame connecting the living room and kitchen to the left of the TV from the viewer's side. There is a door leading outside parallel to this door-frame. There are two additional exits, one leading to a hallway with a bathroom and bedroom, the other leading to a spare room and the second floor.
GREG, 25, African-American, and DOUG, 23, Caucasian, flip through channels on opposite ends of the couch directly facing the TV. Greg is in a Tigger onesie, Doug in ripped jeans in two flannels with his chest exposed. BAST, 24, a short Caribbean man, is in the kitchen. He is in boxers and scratching himself as he finds his first meal of the day. Groggy, he opens the fridge. After a quick scan, he winkles his forehead.
BAST (off-screen)
Da fuq.
Da fuq.
GREG
What's wrong, B?
BAST (poking head through kitchen door)
Did one of ya'll eat my guac?
Did one of ya'll eat my guac?
DOUG
Noooope.
Noooope.
GREG
I still think it looks like boogers, so naw. (to Doug) This one?
DOUG
Nah, I don't wanna chance seeing a random episode. I'm still not caught up yet.
BAST (off-screen)
It has to be somewhere in here then. All this old ass food. There's too many people in this house!
GREG
It's not in your mini fridge?
BAST (off-screen)
Mm-mm.
GREG
...my mini fridge?
BAST (off-screen)
Nah, I wanted it close to my chips in the cabinet for easy access. Hold up. (he checks the cabinet) Still half full. Fuq is going on? (he pivots to throw something in the trash) [putting on an accent] Gotdammit, mon!
GREG
(to Doug) Come on, this one?
DOUG
I'm not in the mood for Nick Cannon.
Greg throws the remote at Doug
Bast enters the living room
BAST
Someone kilt it.
GREG
Wait, the whole thing?
BAST
Whole fuckin thing.
GREG
You ain't have none of it?
Bast shakes his head
GREG
Bruhhh.
VAN, 24, Caucasian, enters from the door leading to the rest of the house. She wears Bast's oversized hoodie and sleep-shorts. A bottle of Diet Coke is already in her hands.
VAN
Mornin, losers.
DOUG
(bending backwards over the couch) Van, you eat Bast's guac last night?
VAN
H'what?
DOUG
'cording to Bast, it's all gone.
VAN
Fuck, I was gonna eat that today. Bitch, were you not gonna wake me up and eat it all yourself?
BAST
Nooo... just my half. Maybe a lil more.
VAN
Jerk. Thanks for the DC tho.
BAST
Yeah yeah yeah
Van walks past Bast and slaps his ass on the way to the kitchen.
BAST
Woman!
Van laughs and exits.
GREG
What you expect, B. You come down here after mornin sex with nothin on but some short shorts draggin that wagon. You lucky I'm sitting down or I'da down it first.
DOUG
Yeah, I woulda done it just to say "first."
GREG
(looking between his two friends) Hmm... Yeah I'd watch that.
Bast sits down on the couch against the wall, trying to hide his ass as best as possible.
DOUG
Damn, cable is boring. Not even a good movie on. (turns off TV)
GREG
Fuck it, I'll just put some music on. (he starts searching his iPod already on the coffee table)
BAST
If not ya'll, then who? Paula's back home this weekend, and Chet wouldn't do it. ...who's lyin?
Van reemerges with salsa and a half-full bag of chips and sits next to Bast.
VAN
It coulda been Kaley.
GREG
(stopping his search) Wait, Kaley's here? I thought she went home.
VAN
Nah she caught a ride home with us last night, remember, Bast?
BAST
(blank look on his face) No I do not. Was I in the front seat on the ride home? (tries to remember)
VAN
We got one of those big taxis. Greg was in the front.
GREG
Damn, I wasn't that drunk. I woulda noticed a second white girl down he-- you know what, nope. I def ran straight to the bathroom to poop and then straight to bed to get some air. (looking back to the bedroom) Damn, Chet, again?
DOUG
You think she's gonna stay the day?
GREG
Gawd, I hope not. Can't stand her. I'm not tryna make her cry again.
DOUG
Wait, where was I for that?!
GREG
It's not my fault you have friends besides us. And, you know, the bitch does eat people's food. Last week she just picked up my chips off my mini fridge and just started eating. She was like, "I thought it was house food." No, bitch, and even if it was, you don't live in this house!
BAST
Hold up. (turning to Van) Didn't you say you saw her in our mini fridge one time?
VAN
Yeah, she was looking for something to drink and almost touch your Orange-Banana juice.
BAST
Not my blend!
DOUG
So what, we think she snuck outta Chet's room in the middle of the night and scarfed down a whole tub of guac in like ten minutes?
VAN
She starves herself during the day. I've noticed cause I do it too. (nervous giggle)
BAST
And I keep telling you to eat.
GREG
Yeah. Damn. Fuckin Diet Coke-Coors Light ass diet.
VAN
(shrugs) You know I'd rather drink my calories.
GREG
Mm, and the bitch likes to smoke, too. Probably had the munchies.
The gang mumbles in agreement .
BAST
But damn. The whole thing? And she didn't even hide the evidence.
GREG
Exactly. She has no shame. Why would she hide it?
The sound of a door opens. A hooded figure quickly slides into the bathroom and closes the door. CHET, 25, Korean, enters the living room in a worn-out white t-shirt and pajama pants. His hair is disheveled but there's a smile on his face.
CHET
Aaah, good morning guys.
GREG
I bet it is for you. Reaping all the benefits of bringing a menace into our happy home.
CHET
Hmm?
GREG
Was that flash of paleness Kaley?
CHET
Yeah, she's just finishing up her makeup.
DOUG
Was she with you the whole time last night?
CHET
Yeah, why?
DOUG
Like the whoooole time.
CHET
Mm-hmm
DOUG
Like the whoooooooooooole time.
CHET
Ok, what happened.
BAST
She ate my guac, man! (he starts to fake cry)
CHET
Really? I don't think she tasted like anything weird last night.
GREG
Gross.
VAN
He found his whole mini-tub of guac in the trash this morning, Chet.
CHET
Oh. Well, maybe Bast did it.
GREG
Ah true. You do have you're forget'ems.
BAST
There's a lot going on up here, and a lot gets thrown out, but I woulda remembered eating a whole ass thing of guac.
VAN
Would you tho?
BAST
Et tu, Van?
VAN
I mean, I can see it. You, late at night, same thing you have on now, just eating out of the fridge, chewing that big dumb chew you do when you're in bliss.
GREG
Yeah, no, I can see it. too.
BAST
Ok, maybe, but I doubt it. No chip bits were in my teeth this morning. At least I think so. (he feels around his teeth with his tongue)
GREG
Van, is this a preview of... you know?
Van throws a couch cushion at Greg, misses, and asks for it back.
KALEY, 25. Caucasian exits the bathroom and hugs Chet from behind. She thin and dressed in pastels with a cropped black leather jacket and a Hello Kitty backpack.
BAST and GREG
Yooouuuuuuuu!
Kaley tries to hide behind Chet but he moves as if to say "What are you doing?"
DOUG
Got something to... confessssss, Kaley?
KALEY
What are ya'll talking about?
BAST
Don't play dumb with us. You heard us from the bathroom. You ate my guac didn't you?
KALEY
What? No. I just woke up. Wait, there was guac here?
BAST
Don't play dumb; it was last night after we got home from the bar. We all went to bed but youuuuu snuck out and spotted the one thing I had to look forward to in this hungover life of sin. Admit it?
KALEY
You all seem cranky, so I'm gonna leave. (kisses Chet on the cheek) I'll call you when I get home, ok?
Chet walked Kaley to the door as Bast and Greg boo. Kaley exits The Castle.
GREG
She lyin.
BAST
I ain't eat my own guac, Chet! I'm telling you.
CHET
Well, I don't think it was her either. She woulda admitted it and then ran away like she usually does.
Bast and Greg pause to find this to be true.
BAST
Dammit, then who was it then?
GREG
The mystery's still afoot!
DOUG
(grabbing the remote) Ahn, maybe there's something on TV now.
Word
~~
If you like what you read, please consider tipping the author.
No comments:
Post a Comment