sylus's band comes to spaceland
Here's the next installment. I actually have 26 pages already written, but I figured it might be fun to post segments. Here you go, and Merry Christmas. :)
EXT. THE SHORTSTOP - BACK PATIO -- NIGHT
Greta places a fat garbage bag gingerly into the dumpster and stands there a second, brushing off her hands, looking around. The night is quiet now. She leans against the chain-link fence that pens in the tiny smoking area.
She looks up at the sky.
ALEX
Greta! Greta, where the hell is the close-out sheet?
Greta draws a deep breath and goes back in slowly.
EXT. BOTTOM OF THE HILL - SAN FRANCISCO -- NIGHT
Sylus and Tim carry out BAND EQUIPMENT, looking hot and sweaty, as a small crowd stands around, watching them with mild interest. Micah follows with DRUM CASES. A LOCAL GUY, (20's), wearing a hoodie under a blazer, stops him.
LOCAL GUY
Hey, what band are you guys?
MICAH
(encouraged)
The Lake. We're from Portland.
LOCAL GUY
Oh, okay, so what time do The Warlocks go on?
MICAH
(slightly annoyed)
Oh, I don't know.
He slides the drums into the back of the van, as Sylus stands there, stretching. Tim sits on the bumper.
MICAH
What do you think?
SYLUS
I kept sweating into my eyes.
MICAH
It's fucking hot in there!
TIM
Micah, go get people to sign the mailing list.
MICAH
No, Tim, I'm tired. Nobody cares anyway.
SYLUS
How do you know? How do you know they're not just playing it cool?
TIM
You always do the mailing list.
MICAH
(grumbling)
I just wanna get to L.A. and do the Long Wolf show.
Sylus and Tim gaze at him together, with a baleful expression. It's a look they've obviously practiced.
MICAH
(mildly annoyed)
...Shit, man...
He walks back in with his head down and Sylus and Tim grin at each other.
TIM
Do you think we pick on him?
SYLUS
(serious)
He's right though. Nobody cares.
He scratches his head and then slams the van door shut. He starts walking back towards the club entrance, his expression weary.
TIM
(following him)
Good shows and bad shows, Sylus, you know that. It's not a big deal.
SYLUS
Maybe not for you...
CUT TO:
INT. BOTTOM OF THE HILL -- CONTINUOUS
They step inside the dark venue and Tim looks at Sylus quizzically.
TIM
What are you talking about? Your dad?
Sylus steps up to the bar and gestures to the BARTENDER. Tim settles calmly onto a barstool next to him.
TIM
So you're the black sheep, so what. There's something impressive about that.
SYLUS
(to bartender)
A Red Stripe and a Guinness.
BARTENDER
A red what?
Sylus looks back at Tim.
SYLUS
Just a Heineken.
SYLUS
(to Tim)
I wish my granddad was still around, man. I'm getting tired of lugging his stupid guitar around, pretending he's watching.
TIM
You love that guitar.
They hear LAUGHTER and both notice Micah further down the bar, talking to some GIRLS and gesturing with a clipboard.
SYLUS
Don't let him fall in love again. Remember last time? At the Alehouse?
Tim accepts his Guinness and gives Sylus a scornful look.
TIM
That was you.
Sylus breaks into a grin and drinks his beer.
TIM
We just gotta keep plugging away. What were we talking about the other day, the music blogs? We gotta jump on that wagon.
Sylus laughs.
SYLUS
No way, I hate those kids. They're not even musicians, they just think they're fuckin' definitives on music.
(beat)
It's like they pick a band and decide they're gonna talk about them until they get signed.
Micah approaches them with a big smile.
TIM
Well, let's get picked. I'm sure they'll all be at the Long Wolf show.
Micah holds up the clipboard and there are seven email addresses written down.
SYLUS
You're a rockstar, son.
MICAH
The blonde and the redhead want to party with us.
The other two look startled. Groupies are obviously an unfamiliar thing.
SYLUS
What? Where?
TIM
They do?
MICAH
So I said we were one-third married and two-thirds tired and hungry, so maybe next time.
Sylus stares at him and Tim starts laughing. He wiggles his ring finger, revealing which third he is.
SYLUS
...You're not a rockstar, Mic.
MICAH
(yawning)
The blonde was all right but the redhead was really annoying. She said we sound like The Gin Blossoms...
TIM
(aghast)
We do not sound like The Gin Blossoms!
MICAH
I don't even know who that is.
SYLUS
(grinning)
Let's go.
EXT. CLUB SPACELAND - SILVER LAKE, CA -- NIGHT
A huge line of people snakes down the sidewalk from the unassuming venue with its small marquee. The large black letters read: FRIDAY LONG WOLF ALBUS THE LAKE
Greta stands in line with PETER (24), painfully thin with glasses and messy hair. He carries a notebook. Greta's hair is tied up into two knots at the back of her head and she wears a tanktop with black and white stripes. Her camera hangs from her wrist.
She looks happy and excited, in her element.
PETER
(reading marquee)
The Lake? How dare they?
GRETA
Maybe they're trying to get our attention.
PETER
Maybe we shouldn't flatter ourselves.
GRETA
I heard they're friends with Albus.
PETER
Must be Oregonians then. Look, there's Justine and Anders.
A handsome, fashionable looking COUPLE heads towards the end of the line and the four of them all wave to each other.
GRETA
(moving up in line)
Are they friends now?
PETER
Yeah, but I heard they still broke up the band.
GRETA
Oh no.
PETER
Never, never, start a band with your significant other. You might as well get a tattoo of their name.
They reach the door and show their IDs.
CUT TO:
INT. CLUB SPACELAND ENTRANCE -- CONTINUOUS
Peter gives their names to a jaded-looking GIRL behind a small desk. Greta shows her a photo pass.
MAIN ROOM
Sylus and Micah set up Micah's drum kit, the venue's signature silver curtains shimmering behind them. Tim messes with the bass amp and YELLS something towards the SOUNDMAN across the floor.
CHRISTIAN (33), tall and lanky with a beard and a floppy ski cap, stands off to one side, watching them.
MICAH
Who is that?
SYLUS
Long Wolf's singer.
MICAH
(startled)
Why is he watching us?
SYLUS
(shrugs)
Maybe we're his favorite band.
Micah laughs and plays the punchline beat on the drums. Tim looks up at him, with a fake scowl.
TIM
I told you never to do that.
MICAH
I can't help it. It was funny, and the drums are right here.
Sylus steps over to Christian and offers his hand.
SYLUS
Hey, I'm Sylus.
CHRISTIAN
(absently)
Oh, hi, I'm Christian. Are you Scott's friends?
SYLUS
Yeah, I went to school with him, before they moved down here. Back when they were "The Albus Band."
Christian laughs, a little derisively.
CHRISTIAN
Editing, my friend. It's so important. What are you called again?
SYLUS
The Lake.
CHRISTIAN
See then, you know. There's nothing extraneous about that one. Although you could always drop the article. I'm off to the bar! Happy playing.
He wonders off and Sylus turns to look at Tim and Micah.
TIM
So what's the handshake of Long Wolf like?
SYLUS
Kind of cold and limp.
Micah plays the punchline beat again and they both glare at him, as people start to filter in through the club doors. Micah holds up his hands, as if to say "What??"
EXT. THE SHORTSTOP - BACK PATIO -- NIGHT
Greta places a fat garbage bag gingerly into the dumpster and stands there a second, brushing off her hands, looking around. The night is quiet now. She leans against the chain-link fence that pens in the tiny smoking area.
She looks up at the sky.
ALEX
Greta! Greta, where the hell is the close-out sheet?
Greta draws a deep breath and goes back in slowly.
EXT. BOTTOM OF THE HILL - SAN FRANCISCO -- NIGHT
Sylus and Tim carry out BAND EQUIPMENT, looking hot and sweaty, as a small crowd stands around, watching them with mild interest. Micah follows with DRUM CASES. A LOCAL GUY, (20's), wearing a hoodie under a blazer, stops him.
LOCAL GUY
Hey, what band are you guys?
MICAH
(encouraged)
The Lake. We're from Portland.
LOCAL GUY
Oh, okay, so what time do The Warlocks go on?
MICAH
(slightly annoyed)
Oh, I don't know.
He slides the drums into the back of the van, as Sylus stands there, stretching. Tim sits on the bumper.
MICAH
What do you think?
SYLUS
I kept sweating into my eyes.
MICAH
It's fucking hot in there!
TIM
Micah, go get people to sign the mailing list.
MICAH
No, Tim, I'm tired. Nobody cares anyway.
SYLUS
How do you know? How do you know they're not just playing it cool?
TIM
You always do the mailing list.
MICAH
(grumbling)
I just wanna get to L.A. and do the Long Wolf show.
Sylus and Tim gaze at him together, with a baleful expression. It's a look they've obviously practiced.
MICAH
(mildly annoyed)
...Shit, man...
He walks back in with his head down and Sylus and Tim grin at each other.
TIM
Do you think we pick on him?
SYLUS
(serious)
He's right though. Nobody cares.
He scratches his head and then slams the van door shut. He starts walking back towards the club entrance, his expression weary.
TIM
(following him)
Good shows and bad shows, Sylus, you know that. It's not a big deal.
SYLUS
Maybe not for you...
CUT TO:
INT. BOTTOM OF THE HILL -- CONTINUOUS
They step inside the dark venue and Tim looks at Sylus quizzically.
TIM
What are you talking about? Your dad?
Sylus steps up to the bar and gestures to the BARTENDER. Tim settles calmly onto a barstool next to him.
TIM
So you're the black sheep, so what. There's something impressive about that.
SYLUS
(to bartender)
A Red Stripe and a Guinness.
BARTENDER
A red what?
Sylus looks back at Tim.
SYLUS
Just a Heineken.
SYLUS
(to Tim)
I wish my granddad was still around, man. I'm getting tired of lugging his stupid guitar around, pretending he's watching.
TIM
You love that guitar.
They hear LAUGHTER and both notice Micah further down the bar, talking to some GIRLS and gesturing with a clipboard.
SYLUS
Don't let him fall in love again. Remember last time? At the Alehouse?
Tim accepts his Guinness and gives Sylus a scornful look.
TIM
That was you.
Sylus breaks into a grin and drinks his beer.
TIM
We just gotta keep plugging away. What were we talking about the other day, the music blogs? We gotta jump on that wagon.
Sylus laughs.
SYLUS
No way, I hate those kids. They're not even musicians, they just think they're fuckin' definitives on music.
(beat)
It's like they pick a band and decide they're gonna talk about them until they get signed.
Micah approaches them with a big smile.
TIM
Well, let's get picked. I'm sure they'll all be at the Long Wolf show.
Micah holds up the clipboard and there are seven email addresses written down.
SYLUS
You're a rockstar, son.
MICAH
The blonde and the redhead want to party with us.
The other two look startled. Groupies are obviously an unfamiliar thing.
SYLUS
What? Where?
TIM
They do?
MICAH
So I said we were one-third married and two-thirds tired and hungry, so maybe next time.
Sylus stares at him and Tim starts laughing. He wiggles his ring finger, revealing which third he is.
SYLUS
...You're not a rockstar, Mic.
MICAH
(yawning)
The blonde was all right but the redhead was really annoying. She said we sound like The Gin Blossoms...
TIM
(aghast)
We do not sound like The Gin Blossoms!
MICAH
I don't even know who that is.
SYLUS
(grinning)
Let's go.
EXT. CLUB SPACELAND - SILVER LAKE, CA -- NIGHT
A huge line of people snakes down the sidewalk from the unassuming venue with its small marquee. The large black letters read: FRIDAY LONG WOLF ALBUS THE LAKE
Greta stands in line with PETER (24), painfully thin with glasses and messy hair. He carries a notebook. Greta's hair is tied up into two knots at the back of her head and she wears a tanktop with black and white stripes. Her camera hangs from her wrist.
She looks happy and excited, in her element.
PETER
(reading marquee)
The Lake? How dare they?
GRETA
Maybe they're trying to get our attention.
PETER
Maybe we shouldn't flatter ourselves.
GRETA
I heard they're friends with Albus.
PETER
Must be Oregonians then. Look, there's Justine and Anders.
A handsome, fashionable looking COUPLE heads towards the end of the line and the four of them all wave to each other.
GRETA
(moving up in line)
Are they friends now?
PETER
Yeah, but I heard they still broke up the band.
GRETA
Oh no.
PETER
Never, never, start a band with your significant other. You might as well get a tattoo of their name.
They reach the door and show their IDs.
CUT TO:
INT. CLUB SPACELAND ENTRANCE -- CONTINUOUS
Peter gives their names to a jaded-looking GIRL behind a small desk. Greta shows her a photo pass.
MAIN ROOM
Sylus and Micah set up Micah's drum kit, the venue's signature silver curtains shimmering behind them. Tim messes with the bass amp and YELLS something towards the SOUNDMAN across the floor.
CHRISTIAN (33), tall and lanky with a beard and a floppy ski cap, stands off to one side, watching them.
MICAH
Who is that?
SYLUS
Long Wolf's singer.
MICAH
(startled)
Why is he watching us?
SYLUS
(shrugs)
Maybe we're his favorite band.
Micah laughs and plays the punchline beat on the drums. Tim looks up at him, with a fake scowl.
TIM
I told you never to do that.
MICAH
I can't help it. It was funny, and the drums are right here.
Sylus steps over to Christian and offers his hand.
SYLUS
Hey, I'm Sylus.
CHRISTIAN
(absently)
Oh, hi, I'm Christian. Are you Scott's friends?
SYLUS
Yeah, I went to school with him, before they moved down here. Back when they were "The Albus Band."
Christian laughs, a little derisively.
CHRISTIAN
Editing, my friend. It's so important. What are you called again?
SYLUS
The Lake.
CHRISTIAN
See then, you know. There's nothing extraneous about that one. Although you could always drop the article. I'm off to the bar! Happy playing.
He wonders off and Sylus turns to look at Tim and Micah.
TIM
So what's the handshake of Long Wolf like?
SYLUS
Kind of cold and limp.
Micah plays the punchline beat again and they both glare at him, as people start to filter in through the club doors. Micah holds up his hands, as if to say "What??"
posted by Simone @ 4:27 PM
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