We The Pathetic Part 1
Introduction
Ahem. Oh, what, we’re on? Oh. Hello there! Apparently, you’re reading this. I can’t guess as to why, though apparently we made it. Made what? Oh, right. Um. That’s not important.
Each of us lives life differently, you know? And each of us sees it differently, too. Some people see it as a movie, and others see it as a novel. Others see it as a dream. Dreams can be painful like life can, sometimes. Each of us is the star of our own novel or movie. Well, most of us. Some of us have to have our play written after the fact. Ask the Rosy Cross and Golden Star.
Everyone Is… Oh, I’m giving everything away far too early. Just remember for now, that this is not a story. It is our stories. And who are we? We are… Well, we are the Pathetic.
Scene 1-Title Sequence
(Open) Title Sequence
Pan of Sky, with production company, then director, then We the Pathetic in bold, slanted letters.
Roll Opening Credits
Generic gentle coming-of-age music should play through this whole scene.
Shot: Shot of blue ceiling with splotches that make it look like the sky. Camera pans, as if rolling over. Wall is blue as well, but no longer evokes images of sky. Side of bed is visible at bottom of shot. Room is messy, cluttered with mostly clothes, but a variety of school books and the occasional old action figure. Camera rises from bed and crosses to door. Exit room, cross hallway, enter bathroom. Toothbrush lifted by strong hand, goes beneath camera.
Voice (Masculine, confident and not so intelligent): I knew the moment that I woke up that day, that it was the first day of school.
Shot: Finish brushing teeth. Leave bathroom and go downstairs, crossing living room. Living room has large bookshelf, covered in trophies. Brief pan across them; most are football trophies. Others are best dressed and homecoming king and other superficial trophies. Camera is now seperated from subject, and turns to see the back of his head. He’s wearing a letterman jacket and has a buzzcut. He goes through archway and sits at the counter. Camera follows.
Mother (Very June Cleaver): I made your favorite this morning, eggs and bacon!
Chris (The star): Thanks, ma.
Mother: Only the best for my big boy! You need a good breakfast on the first day of school!
Camera: Doesn’t move during exchange. Mother turns and grabs a plate, with eggs and bacon, and hands it to him. He begins eating, and camera focuses on him while he does.
Narration (Chris’s Voice): Mom’s always been good to me. I guess that she’s a mom. Every first day of school since I can remember she made me eggs and bacon. She does it before games, too.
Father: Ah, there’s my guy! Eating his big Senior breakfast, eh?
Shot: Camera pans up from eating Chris (his plate is now half empty) to reveal his father standing behind him. Father is very much like a football coach; big, fat in such a way that he obviously used to be muscular, hairy, and has a smile that on anyone else would invoke utter fear and trepidation.
Father: Now, son, I know the first day of school can be a little scary, but don’t worry. You’ll be fine. You’re the most popular kid in school.
Shot: Chris smiles and clears his plate. His dad pats him on the back rather hard, and it doesn’t even phase him. Chris gets up, grabs a duffel bag (packed to the brim with footballs, but it’s closed so that’s nearly irrelevant) and goes out the door. He hops into his convertible and drives off towards the school.
Chapter 1-Digital Clocks
Wesley rolled over and opened his eyes slightly. The clock on the wall said… He couldn’t read it. He thought all clocks should be digital at this time of day. Of course, without that benefit, he didn’t know for sure what time of day it was. He opened his eyes again and looked at the clock. He thought for a minute. Five O’clock. Okay. He sat up slowly, laid back down, sat up again, and slid to the side of his bed. He sat, legs dangling over it. Finally he stood up, crossed his half-room, opened the door, and stumbled to the bathroom.
He took a shower; the steam and heat, painful at first, felt good. He realized when he was shampooing his hair that he couldn’t quite remember why he had gotten up at 5 in the morning. He shrugged it off and finished showering.
He cursed under his breath as he was toweling himself off. He had forgotten to bring a change of clothes into the bathroom. Messed up his whole routine. He wrapped the towel around himself and stumbled into his room. He put on his briefs, his pants, then his shirt.
He stumbled out again, and headed to the TV room and kitchen. He glanced at the Far Side calendar on the microwave, then stopped and turned the page. August 17th. Oh, right. That was why. First day of school. Crap. He headed on to the couch, plopped down, and flipped on some anime. Ah, good old morning anime. Makes you awake and thinking. Especially when it’s… oooh, Paranoia Agent!
He watched anime for about an hour, then his sister came out of the shower. He got up and brushed his teeth. He logged onto the computer for a quick minute, but no one was on and he didn’t know what to do. So he got back off and went back to watch TV.
His sister-her name was Anna-had changed the channel to Music Videos. It was some psuedo-rock band, like Good Charlotte or Simple Plan. They both grinned, basking in the irony, or perhaps just the hilarious painfulness, of the popularity of such bands. The music pained their ears, but in a pleasant way. Sort of like listening to a train wreck. Or perhaps looking at one. It’s hard to tell in the morning. The senses go haywire.
Finally, their parents got up. Mom got up first and went to the bathroom. Then she got her keys and went to the door. Wesley went to the door and put on his backpack, which he wasn’t quite prepared for the lightness of. Dad got up and headed for the shower.
"Ready to go?" his mom asked kindly but sleepily. He nodded, and they headed out the door to the car.
Act 1 Scene 1
Open curtain to reveal a small house. Down in the dumps. Is actually a trailer. A sad looking young woman, about seventeen, (Charlotte) is sleeping on the couch center stage. Left down stage there’s an old style television. Windows are in the walls. There’s a bed Up Left. Exit is center left. Another exit down right to the bathroom.
Charlotte wakes up
Charlotte: Oooh… (she groans again) What’s today… Oh… Right… First day of school. (she looks around) Am I the only one here? Mom must’ve left already. That’s probably a good thing. She doesn’t like it when I go to school. (she stands up and starts wandering around. She’s wearing slightly tattered, and markedly dirty plaid pajamas. As she moves she starts gathering up unfolded, but definitely clean, clothes from around the room.) I haven’t seen Dad in ages. I wonder where he went? Mom said that he left us to see Amsterdam, but I don’t think so. Where would he have gotten the money? And I saw that woman he’d been spending time with. She was pretty. I guess that dad deserves someone pretty, he was always nice. I just wish that he hadn’t left. (She now has all the clothing she needs; she goes to the television and switches it on. She starts singing to herself and goes into the bathroom. The song she sings is the Beatles’s Help!, but she sings it softly. It’s audible, but doesn’t drown out the TV)
Television: (A newscaster is heard. Fuzzy, but clearly audible. Slightly louder than Charlotte’s singing.) … school children across the state are returning to school. What can you do to keep your children safe? Find out after these messages. Also coming up, the local weather, and the reason that some Pit Bull owners are getting very angry! (A man, very ordinary sounding, begins speaking) Honey, I think it’s time. (A woman) oh! I think so too! Let’s… Oh, Dave… Oh…! But did you bring protection? (Man) Oh, I forgot! (woman) Then we can’t… (studly, superheroish voice) You can with new Prostrate Protection! (man) Prostrate Protection? (voice) Yes! It’s from the Naydeer Company! (quick spoken announcer) Prostrate Protection is not guaranteed to prevent pregnancy nor does it prevent any sexually transmitted diseases. (silence for a moment, then a new woman speaks) You’re a busy woman, right? So how do you feed your children every morning? I used to cook eggs and bacon every morning. Now, I use Insta-Bacon! (new man’s voice) They’re the darndest things! They’re new! And they’re man made! Taste good, too! (young boy) It’s so easy to make! You just add water, and then let it sit! And then I can eat my favorite breakfast! (new announcer) From the Naydeer company, it’s Insta-Bacon!
Charlotte: (comes out of the bathroom. She is now dressed in a knee skirt and a form-fitting skirt. Her hair is pulled back so that it’s all behind her ears, but isn’t in a pony tail. She crosses to and turns off the Television, which should continue on this sort of advertisement chain.) Prostrate Protection. That’s an awful pun. It’s easy to recognize puns when you’re in the theatre. Shakespeare wrote in nothing but them. (pause) My mother and father didn’t use good protection when they got together. And they found out about me too late to get an abortion. (pause) I don’t think mom liked how much pain I caused her. She’s always giving it back. Dad was good to me. Until he left. (glances at her watch-which she put on while in the bathroom) And I should leave soon. Hope mom’s not back when I get back.
Exeunt.
Issue One- Late Lucky!
First Panel: (crumpled figure in a bed) Text: (Rising arc of Zs)
Second Panel: (Vibrating alarm clock; Time 8:00)
Third Panel: (Figure in bed, eyes open slightly, facing clock)
Fourth Panel: (Figure ((Lucky, a sort of buff lad with short red hair)) sitting up straight) Speech Bubble: Leaping Lizards! Lucky’s Late!
Fifth Panel: (Speedlines through doorway, exiting. Dust blowing up from ground.)
Sixth Panel: (Close up of page-a-day calendar, on August 17th) Box Narration: First Day of School.
First Cycle
It’s a small boat. She’s sailing across the sea in it. You see? Seated with her she seas a see crab. Si is for cookie, that’s good enough for mi. So she reaches into the water; it’s very oily. "Oi," says the cookie-crab, "We’re going to that kook Cooke on Cook’s Eyeland!"
She rolls. The floor is as soft as the sea, because it’s made of the fluff of a blanket. She rises, and after a moment of motion the sea is falling on her in little drops. It’s warm, and washes away the unclean, like a baptism. Funny, she doesn’t believe in gleaming the soul. The sea stops falling in, and her skin grows goose pimples. It’s rough to touch, and the crab cooker is back, ushering her into the metal box with a bag on her back. More movement, and suddenly she can’t sit anymore. The chair was soft, made of fluff. But her blanket’s gone. She can’t figure out where she left it, but even that thought is gone soon. And she moves into the room, where she’ll be spoken to in a language that she doesn’t realize she can actually understand.
Track One: Not Sweet
(drums reminiscent of slow songs on American Idiot, Guitar is very Ramonesish, and Gentle Piano sounds like Death Cab for Cutie)
Wrapped in a gentle blanket
A buzzing sounds in the ear
Roll over to quiet
Mouth curled in a sneer
(chorus, with hard guitar)
Hot shower
Cold feet
First Day
Not sweet
(short guitar solo, guitar returns to gentle)
Breakfast’s a no
Time’s getting late
Clock says 7:08
Time to GO! (last word screamed as if it were a hard rock song with incomprehensible lyrics)
(chorus) times 1
Backpack is full
Gas tank is light
Highway’s a toll
Parked in too tight! (whole last line screamed this time)
(Chorus) times 1
Never such pain
Since the day born
Flip on the tunes
No time to mourn! (Last line builds like it’s going to end with a scream, but mellows out instead)
(chorus) times 2
(fades with a gentle) Aaaaaah….
Ahem. Oh, what, we’re on? Oh. Hello there! Apparently, you’re reading this. I can’t guess as to why, though apparently we made it. Made what? Oh, right. Um. That’s not important.
Each of us lives life differently, you know? And each of us sees it differently, too. Some people see it as a movie, and others see it as a novel. Others see it as a dream. Dreams can be painful like life can, sometimes. Each of us is the star of our own novel or movie. Well, most of us. Some of us have to have our play written after the fact. Ask the Rosy Cross and Golden Star.
Everyone Is… Oh, I’m giving everything away far too early. Just remember for now, that this is not a story. It is our stories. And who are we? We are… Well, we are the Pathetic.
Scene 1-Title Sequence
(Open) Title Sequence
Pan of Sky, with production company, then director, then We the Pathetic in bold, slanted letters.
Roll Opening Credits
Generic gentle coming-of-age music should play through this whole scene.
Shot: Shot of blue ceiling with splotches that make it look like the sky. Camera pans, as if rolling over. Wall is blue as well, but no longer evokes images of sky. Side of bed is visible at bottom of shot. Room is messy, cluttered with mostly clothes, but a variety of school books and the occasional old action figure. Camera rises from bed and crosses to door. Exit room, cross hallway, enter bathroom. Toothbrush lifted by strong hand, goes beneath camera.
Voice (Masculine, confident and not so intelligent): I knew the moment that I woke up that day, that it was the first day of school.
Shot: Finish brushing teeth. Leave bathroom and go downstairs, crossing living room. Living room has large bookshelf, covered in trophies. Brief pan across them; most are football trophies. Others are best dressed and homecoming king and other superficial trophies. Camera is now seperated from subject, and turns to see the back of his head. He’s wearing a letterman jacket and has a buzzcut. He goes through archway and sits at the counter. Camera follows.
Mother (Very June Cleaver): I made your favorite this morning, eggs and bacon!
Chris (The star): Thanks, ma.
Mother: Only the best for my big boy! You need a good breakfast on the first day of school!
Camera: Doesn’t move during exchange. Mother turns and grabs a plate, with eggs and bacon, and hands it to him. He begins eating, and camera focuses on him while he does.
Narration (Chris’s Voice): Mom’s always been good to me. I guess that she’s a mom. Every first day of school since I can remember she made me eggs and bacon. She does it before games, too.
Father: Ah, there’s my guy! Eating his big Senior breakfast, eh?
Shot: Camera pans up from eating Chris (his plate is now half empty) to reveal his father standing behind him. Father is very much like a football coach; big, fat in such a way that he obviously used to be muscular, hairy, and has a smile that on anyone else would invoke utter fear and trepidation.
Father: Now, son, I know the first day of school can be a little scary, but don’t worry. You’ll be fine. You’re the most popular kid in school.
Shot: Chris smiles and clears his plate. His dad pats him on the back rather hard, and it doesn’t even phase him. Chris gets up, grabs a duffel bag (packed to the brim with footballs, but it’s closed so that’s nearly irrelevant) and goes out the door. He hops into his convertible and drives off towards the school.
Chapter 1-Digital Clocks
Wesley rolled over and opened his eyes slightly. The clock on the wall said… He couldn’t read it. He thought all clocks should be digital at this time of day. Of course, without that benefit, he didn’t know for sure what time of day it was. He opened his eyes again and looked at the clock. He thought for a minute. Five O’clock. Okay. He sat up slowly, laid back down, sat up again, and slid to the side of his bed. He sat, legs dangling over it. Finally he stood up, crossed his half-room, opened the door, and stumbled to the bathroom.
He took a shower; the steam and heat, painful at first, felt good. He realized when he was shampooing his hair that he couldn’t quite remember why he had gotten up at 5 in the morning. He shrugged it off and finished showering.
He cursed under his breath as he was toweling himself off. He had forgotten to bring a change of clothes into the bathroom. Messed up his whole routine. He wrapped the towel around himself and stumbled into his room. He put on his briefs, his pants, then his shirt.
He stumbled out again, and headed to the TV room and kitchen. He glanced at the Far Side calendar on the microwave, then stopped and turned the page. August 17th. Oh, right. That was why. First day of school. Crap. He headed on to the couch, plopped down, and flipped on some anime. Ah, good old morning anime. Makes you awake and thinking. Especially when it’s… oooh, Paranoia Agent!
He watched anime for about an hour, then his sister came out of the shower. He got up and brushed his teeth. He logged onto the computer for a quick minute, but no one was on and he didn’t know what to do. So he got back off and went back to watch TV.
His sister-her name was Anna-had changed the channel to Music Videos. It was some psuedo-rock band, like Good Charlotte or Simple Plan. They both grinned, basking in the irony, or perhaps just the hilarious painfulness, of the popularity of such bands. The music pained their ears, but in a pleasant way. Sort of like listening to a train wreck. Or perhaps looking at one. It’s hard to tell in the morning. The senses go haywire.
Finally, their parents got up. Mom got up first and went to the bathroom. Then she got her keys and went to the door. Wesley went to the door and put on his backpack, which he wasn’t quite prepared for the lightness of. Dad got up and headed for the shower.
"Ready to go?" his mom asked kindly but sleepily. He nodded, and they headed out the door to the car.
Act 1 Scene 1
Open curtain to reveal a small house. Down in the dumps. Is actually a trailer. A sad looking young woman, about seventeen, (Charlotte) is sleeping on the couch center stage. Left down stage there’s an old style television. Windows are in the walls. There’s a bed Up Left. Exit is center left. Another exit down right to the bathroom.
Charlotte wakes up
Charlotte: Oooh… (she groans again) What’s today… Oh… Right… First day of school. (she looks around) Am I the only one here? Mom must’ve left already. That’s probably a good thing. She doesn’t like it when I go to school. (she stands up and starts wandering around. She’s wearing slightly tattered, and markedly dirty plaid pajamas. As she moves she starts gathering up unfolded, but definitely clean, clothes from around the room.) I haven’t seen Dad in ages. I wonder where he went? Mom said that he left us to see Amsterdam, but I don’t think so. Where would he have gotten the money? And I saw that woman he’d been spending time with. She was pretty. I guess that dad deserves someone pretty, he was always nice. I just wish that he hadn’t left. (She now has all the clothing she needs; she goes to the television and switches it on. She starts singing to herself and goes into the bathroom. The song she sings is the Beatles’s Help!, but she sings it softly. It’s audible, but doesn’t drown out the TV)
Television: (A newscaster is heard. Fuzzy, but clearly audible. Slightly louder than Charlotte’s singing.) … school children across the state are returning to school. What can you do to keep your children safe? Find out after these messages. Also coming up, the local weather, and the reason that some Pit Bull owners are getting very angry! (A man, very ordinary sounding, begins speaking) Honey, I think it’s time. (A woman) oh! I think so too! Let’s… Oh, Dave… Oh…! But did you bring protection? (Man) Oh, I forgot! (woman) Then we can’t… (studly, superheroish voice) You can with new Prostrate Protection! (man) Prostrate Protection? (voice) Yes! It’s from the Naydeer Company! (quick spoken announcer) Prostrate Protection is not guaranteed to prevent pregnancy nor does it prevent any sexually transmitted diseases. (silence for a moment, then a new woman speaks) You’re a busy woman, right? So how do you feed your children every morning? I used to cook eggs and bacon every morning. Now, I use Insta-Bacon! (new man’s voice) They’re the darndest things! They’re new! And they’re man made! Taste good, too! (young boy) It’s so easy to make! You just add water, and then let it sit! And then I can eat my favorite breakfast! (new announcer) From the Naydeer company, it’s Insta-Bacon!
Charlotte: (comes out of the bathroom. She is now dressed in a knee skirt and a form-fitting skirt. Her hair is pulled back so that it’s all behind her ears, but isn’t in a pony tail. She crosses to and turns off the Television, which should continue on this sort of advertisement chain.) Prostrate Protection. That’s an awful pun. It’s easy to recognize puns when you’re in the theatre. Shakespeare wrote in nothing but them. (pause) My mother and father didn’t use good protection when they got together. And they found out about me too late to get an abortion. (pause) I don’t think mom liked how much pain I caused her. She’s always giving it back. Dad was good to me. Until he left. (glances at her watch-which she put on while in the bathroom) And I should leave soon. Hope mom’s not back when I get back.
Exeunt.
Issue One- Late Lucky!
First Panel: (crumpled figure in a bed) Text: (Rising arc of Zs)
Second Panel: (Vibrating alarm clock; Time 8:00)
Third Panel: (Figure in bed, eyes open slightly, facing clock)
Fourth Panel: (Figure ((Lucky, a sort of buff lad with short red hair)) sitting up straight) Speech Bubble: Leaping Lizards! Lucky’s Late!
Fifth Panel: (Speedlines through doorway, exiting. Dust blowing up from ground.)
Sixth Panel: (Close up of page-a-day calendar, on August 17th) Box Narration: First Day of School.
First Cycle
It’s a small boat. She’s sailing across the sea in it. You see? Seated with her she seas a see crab. Si is for cookie, that’s good enough for mi. So she reaches into the water; it’s very oily. "Oi," says the cookie-crab, "We’re going to that kook Cooke on Cook’s Eyeland!"
She rolls. The floor is as soft as the sea, because it’s made of the fluff of a blanket. She rises, and after a moment of motion the sea is falling on her in little drops. It’s warm, and washes away the unclean, like a baptism. Funny, she doesn’t believe in gleaming the soul. The sea stops falling in, and her skin grows goose pimples. It’s rough to touch, and the crab cooker is back, ushering her into the metal box with a bag on her back. More movement, and suddenly she can’t sit anymore. The chair was soft, made of fluff. But her blanket’s gone. She can’t figure out where she left it, but even that thought is gone soon. And she moves into the room, where she’ll be spoken to in a language that she doesn’t realize she can actually understand.
Track One: Not Sweet
(drums reminiscent of slow songs on American Idiot, Guitar is very Ramonesish, and Gentle Piano sounds like Death Cab for Cutie)
Wrapped in a gentle blanket
A buzzing sounds in the ear
Roll over to quiet
Mouth curled in a sneer
(chorus, with hard guitar)
Hot shower
Cold feet
First Day
Not sweet
(short guitar solo, guitar returns to gentle)
Breakfast’s a no
Time’s getting late
Clock says 7:08
Time to GO! (last word screamed as if it were a hard rock song with incomprehensible lyrics)
(chorus) times 1
Backpack is full
Gas tank is light
Highway’s a toll
Parked in too tight! (whole last line screamed this time)
(Chorus) times 1
Never such pain
Since the day born
Flip on the tunes
No time to mourn! (Last line builds like it’s going to end with a scream, but mellows out instead)
(chorus) times 2
(fades with a gentle) Aaaaaah….
posted by Pope Richard Corey at 1:02 AM
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