THE VERY WORST THING THAT COULD POSSIBLY HAPPEN, PART 2
INT. AAA MAILBOXES INTERNATIONAL INC - AFTERNOON
KATE VO
It’s Kate. I’m at HQ, Hong Kong, 1997. The first letter has come through. Standing by.
Picking up from the end of episode 1:
A machine turns on, like an industrial vacuum cleaner.
KATE
Lift up your shirt! Just hold this tube over your stomach!
RAUL
Ow!
KATE
(yelling)
Yeah, this is gonna hurt!
RAUL
What?!!!
KATE
Nothing!!!
SLURRRRRPPPPP PHUMPH.
RAUL
OWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!
The machine turns off and winds down.
KATE
How you doing, you ok?
RAUL
No! That hurt like hell!
KATE
Yeah, that’s what I hear.
RAUL
Jesus.
KATE
Don’t be a baby.
RAUL
Did you just SUCK a pound of flesh off me?.
KATE
I didn’t. The machine did.
RAUL
The machine YOU were running!
KATE
Hey, I’m just doing my job, ok? Check the mailbox.
He gathers himself a bit from the shock of being vacuumed.
RAUL
Already? I just mailed the letter?
KATE
You just mailed a letter to 1959. 38 years ago. She’s had time to write back.
RAUL
I guess that makes sense. I mean, not really, but, ok.
KATE
Just take a look.
A few footsteps, a key in a mailbox.
RAUL
You’re right. Look at that.
KATE
Told you. Hey do me a favor, though? Don’t read it here, ok. I’ve got to close up.
Footsteps. The door opens and we walk out onto the street.
Theme Music. Titles:
ANNOUNCER
The Very Worst Thing That Could Possibly Happen, Part 2.
EXT STREET IN HONG KONG, 1997 - CONTINUOUS
On the street Raul opens up Sara’s letter.
RAUL
Well, Sara Cloutier, what do you have to say?
SARA VO
Dear Raul, its wonderful to hear from you. Your words stay with me. I’m afraid you’re thinking of someone else, as I have never written a book. I’ve thought of it, but no. I’m just a typist. Your letter reminded me of something I haven’t thought about in years. When I was young, I had a pen pal in China. Mr Ming. This was something my school organized. We sent letters back and forth for a year, I don’t think I even kept them. Is that unkind? I will keep your letter, though.
Beat.
SARA VO
A friend- well, I think she’s a friend- told me I could write you back, but she says I have to mail it a special way. Is there some secret mail service neither of us new about? My life is disrupted, and jumbled, and things aren’t making sense. Tell me if its the same for you. I’d rather not be alone in this, so I await your reply. Yours, Sara.
INT. RAUL’S APARTMENT, HONG KONG, 1997
Cut to Raul getting home to his apartment: a door opens, keys go in a porcelain bowl. Shoes come off. Raul sits down on the couch and dials a phone.
VINCENT (PHONE)
Hello?
RAUL
Vinny? Its Raul.
VINCENT (PHONE)
Oh hey, man, what’s up.
RAUL
Remember when we went to Changchun? That dinner?
VINCENT (PHONE)
(snorts a laugh)
Not much. Those Manchurian dudes can drink, whaaaaat??!
RAUL
Ha, yeah. You guys are some depraved motherfuckers.
VINCENT (PHONE)
Work hard, play hard, Raul.
RAUL
What was the name of that place Mr Wu likes to go after dinner - the, uh, place where everyone is so friendly, if you get my drift.
VINCENT (PHONE)
Oh, yeah. Madame Tsang’s. Why, you got crabs and want your money back?
RAUL
No no. Just asking for a friend.
VINCENT (PHONE)
(super snarky)
Right.
RAUL
Ok, that’s all I needed. Thanks.
VINCENT (PHONE)
Oh no.
RAUL
What?
VINCENT (PHONE)
You didn’t fall in love with a hooker did you? That’s, like, the worst thing that can possibly happen.
RAUL
No its not, you shit head. And no, I didn’t.
VINCENT (PHONE)
I’m just saying... It happened to a buddy of mine, man. He like couldn’t stand to see her with other dudes, so he just kept spending his money... He lost, like, everything.
RAUL
Bad luck.
VINCENT (PHONE)
The worst.
RAUL
Ok I gotta run.
VINCENT (PHONE)
Later, bro.
Phone beeps. Some clicking on a computer keyboard. Then a phone rings.
EVNIKA (PHONE)
(in Russian)
Privet? (Hello?)
RAUL
Hello! I visited you when I was in Changchun a couple weeks ago, and I met a woman named Ai... is she around by any chance?
EVNIKA (PHONE)
No. She left.
RAUL
For good? Or just, she’s not there right now?
EVNIKA (PHONE)
Hold on.
RAUL
Yeah. Ok.
A long beat.
EVNIKA (PHONE)
Is this Raul?
RAUL
Yes.
EVNIKA (PHONE)
She said she’ll meet you in Kazakhstan.
RAUL
I’m sorry. What?
EVNIKA (PHONE)
Almaty, Kazakhstan. Empire Hotel. Room 615.
RAUL
What?
EVNIKA (PHONE)
Almaty, Kazakhstan--
RAUL
Wait let me get a pen... Why Kazakhstan?
EVNIKA (PHONE)
Empire Hotel, room 615.
RAUL
(writing)
Empire Hotel, room 615.
(Quietly)
What the fuck?
EVNIKA (PHONE)
She left a message- she said “tell Raul it’s in the middle.”
RAUL
What does that mean?
EVNIKA (PHONE)
No idea. She says weird shit. I got to go.
RAUL
Sure. Thanks.
EVNIKA (PHONE)
Khorosho. Poka. (Ok. Bye bye.)
Click. Raul hangs up. A bus goes by outside.
A new voice enters the conversation.
SNAKE
I’m hungry.
RAUL
Hello?
SNAKE
I said I’m hungry.
RAUL
Is someone here? Hello?
SNAKE
Raul, its me.
RAUL
Who?
SNAKE
Me! The snake? Over here? In the glass tank?
RAUL
Oh. What?... What do you want?
SNAKE
That’s new. Usually people try to kill me when they hear me talk for the first time.
RAUL
Why would I kill you?
SNAKE
I have no idea. But it happens a lot.
RAUL
I guess I can see that. I’m too tired to be freaked out.
SNAKE
Lucky me.
Beat. Finger tapping on glass.
SNAKE
Don’t do that. Everyone taps on the glass. Its super fucking annoying.
RAUL
Sorry, jeez.
SNAKE
A mouse. That’s what I want. To eat, I mean.
RAUL
Oh. Where do I get a mouse?
SNAKE
Uh, pet store maybe?
RAUL
Oh. Ok.
SNAKE
Like, now please. I haven’t eaten since you brought me back from Changchun.
RAUL
Oh- speaking of Changchun- do you know where Ai went?
SNAKE
She went to Kazakhstan.
RAUL
That’s what I heard. Any idea why?
SNAKE
A mouse. Now. Please.
RAUL
Alright, alright.
SNAKE
Thanks.
Raul picks up his keys. From a distance:
RAUL
I’ll be back in hour.
SNAKE
You know where to find me.
RAUL
Oh, you’re like, the funny talking snake.
Raul locks the door and heads out.
EXT. STREET IN HONG KONG, 1997 - CONTINUOUS
Raul exits his building onto the street, where protests are building in the distance.
RAUL VO
Dear Sara, I don’t know if your friend explained this to you, but its 1997 where I am. At least, that’s what anyone would tell you if you asked what year it is. I’m not sure anymore. Ever since I went to the mailbox, I feel like I stopped being here, in this time. It isn’t an unpleasant feeling- like having a secret, and also, I feel sort of invulnerable. I guess that’s why I don’t mind walking towards the protesters- I’m not afraid. I’m only barely here at all.
The sounds of the protests get louder and then transform, until its protests in Algeria coming through a radio in a small apartment in Paris, 1959.
INT. APARTMENT IN MONTPARNASSE, PARIS - MORNING
The RADIO plays sounds of an Algerian protest.
BBC NEWS
...The protest reached a climax yesterday outside the parliament in Algiers as the...
Someone turns off the radio.
SARA
Its sad, isn’t it, what’s happening?
CLAIRE
In Algiers?
SARA
De Gaulle is such a hypocrite. He’ll never let the referendum pass.
CLAIRE
Shhh. Save the politics for your comrades at the cafe. Sleep some more.
SARA
No, no. I’m awake. I’m awake. Oh my head.
CLAIRE
Here. Coffee will help.
As Sara wakes up, she realizes where she is (and what last night was) and a post-sex nervous panic sets in.
SARA
Thanks.
She sips. Sheets rustle.
SARA
Where are my clothes?
CLAIRE
Oh, here. Here’s your dress.
SARA
(nervously)
I should get home. Do you see my bra?
CLAIRE
Over there, on the floor.
Subtle music for Sara’s tension. Just a dark rumble.
SARA
I just, I have to meet my father for lunch, and I can’t look like this!
CLAIRE
Its ok. You didn’t do anything wrong.
SARA
No its not that. I just, uh--
CLAIRE
There’s plenty of time before lunch, Sara. Take a breath.
SARA
I have to go.
(She takes a breath)
But thank you, for the coffee. But I’m going.
CLAIRE
(quietly, almost a whisper)
You are perfect. Everything flows.
SARA
Everything flows?
CLAIRE
Everything. Flows.
A kiss on the cheek. Music fades slowly up (Everything Flows by Teenage Fanclub), a pressurized rumble that builds with Sara’s footsteps leading out of the apartment, down the stairs and climaxes as the door is opened onto a plain city street on a normal Saturday morning. Sara starts sobbing.
EXT. CITY STREET NEAR AAA MAILBOX INTERNATIONAL, HONG KONG
The sound of Sara crying turn to rain. A taxi comes by and splashes a puddle.
RAUL
Aw come on.
Raul rounds the corner and comes to the mailbox shop.
INT. AAA MAILBOXES INTERNATIONAL INC - CONTINUOUS
The door jingles.
RAUL
Hello? Kate?
KATE
Hold on!
RAUL
Hey. How are you?
KATE
Busy.
RAUL
Sure, Ok, I just have a letter to mail.
KATE
Another? That didn’t take long.
RAUL
Yeah. Here you go.
Hands her the letter.
KATE
Ok, you know the procedure.
RAUL
Oh, yeah. That part.
A LOUD vacuum machine turns on.
RAUL
(yelling)
Hey, do you know anything about a talking snake?
KATE
What??
SLUUUUUURRRRRPPPP FOOOOMPH!!!
RAUL
Owwwww! Fuck me that hurts.
KATE
Don’t be a baby!
The machine turns off.
RAUL
A talking snake. Do you know anything about a talking snake?
KATE
Oh, him.
RAUL
Yeah.
KATE
Did you feed him?
RAUL
Not yet, but he said he was hungry.
KATE
Snakes are always hungry. And he gets cranky when he doesn’t eat.
RAUL
Is there a pet store around here?
KATE
Try the Cat Street market. I think they sell mice.
RAUL
Is that a joke?
KATE
No! No I mean it. Did you get a response?
RAUL
Let me check.
He takes out his mailbox key and opens the tiny brass door.
RAUL
Yup. Right here.
KATE
I got to get back to work.
RAUL
Are these yours?
KATE
What?
RAUL
These tapes- is this your music?
KATE
Yeah.
RAUL
Daydream Nation. Great record.
RAUL
Really. You have a lot of letters come through here?
KATE
Let’s not, ok? Its not good to be too friendly with the customers.
RAUL
Ha.
KATE
What?
RAUL
That’s what she said, the woman who gave me the address. Its not good to be too friendly- those exact words.
KATE
Yeah, well. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
RAUL
Wait, so she’s your mom? She’s only like 5 years older than--
KATE
Some other time, Raul. I have a lot of mail to sort back there, ok?
RAUL
Alright, alright. See you later.
Footsteps, the door opens, we go back out on the street. There’s more chanting and some bottles break.
The street protest is going full bore outside- the students are yelling, some into a bullhorn. The sound transforms into a radio broadcast- BBC of course:
INT./EXT. CAB, A STREET IN PARIS, 1959 - MORNING
Sara’s in a taxi.
BBC NEWS
Good morning, its 9:00, and this is the BBC World Service. Another explosion in Paris yesterday, this time in North Eastern section of the city. Police confirm that Algerian Nationals are denying any involvement...
CAB DRIVER
Here?
SARA
Yes, on the left. Thank you.
CAB DRIVER
Of course.
The cab door opens. Sara walks to her front door.
SARA VO
Dear Raul, What’s happening to us? I’m not sure I can believe that you live in a different time- I mean, even if you lived in this time it wouldn’t be 10:00 in the morning like it is for me in Paris, so... I guess time is bent anyway. Claire, the woman who told me about your letter, hinted that you were far away, and I felt sad when she said that. But then she made me feel better, so much better than maybe I have ever felt in my entire life.
INT. SARA’S APARTMENT, PARIS 1959 - CONTINUOUS
Sara enters her apartment- keys, doors, feet on stairs. As soon as she gets inside she starts sobbing.
SARA VO
Raul, I don’t know what made me weep this morning, when I left her apartment. I walked in the sun, and the city looked totally normal. I had this warmth draped around my shoulders, a secret I’m not ready to share... But it was too much, maybe. Like a plug pulled from a drain, all this sadness and anger and confusion flowed out of me. I didn’t even know it was there.
Sara stops crying and goes to bathroom to wash her face. She gets in the shower.
SARA VO
I was overwhelmed I guess. That’s all. I have lunch with my father later, and I need to clean up. But, you know what? I wasn’t dirty. I don’t think I’ve never been dirty. They made think I was- the parents and teachers and priests and bosses. But its not true. It was never true.
She turns off the shower, leaves the bathroom and starts to dress for the day.
SARA VO
That night with Claire- that was the threshold, a door that opened. And now I want to announce myself to the universe: Here I am! Am I beautiful?! I think maybe yes! Am I alive? I am absolutely alive!
Keys are swiped up from a table as a door closes.
INT. RANDOM CAFE, NORTHERN PARIS, 1959 - SAME DAY
A busy cafe. Sara meets her father, HANS CLOUTIER, for lunch.
SARA
Papa! Hello how are you?
HANS
I’m good, I’m good. How are you?
SARA
Well...
HANS
What? What is it?
SARA
I broke it off with Jean.
HANS
Oh!?
SARA
Yes.
The waiter comes over. His name is Frederique, but Hans calls him TROTSKY. He’s 30, unmarried, charming but not extroverted.
TROTSKY
Monsieur Cloutier! Mademoiselle. Good to see you again.
SARA
Hello.
HANS
Frederique! Or should I call you comrade?
SARA
Oh god. You didn’t talk politics with him, did you?
TROTSKY
I may have expressed some opinions...
SARA
Oh no. Here we go.
HANS
He thinks De Gaulle needs to give Algiers back!
TROTSKY
Its not our soil!
HANS
There’s french blood in that soil!
TROTSKY
The usual?
HANS
Of course.
TROTSKY
And for you?
SARA
Uh, just an omelette.
TROTSKY
Cheese?
SARA
Yes please. And fries.
TROTSKY
Of course. To drink?
SARA
White wine, please.
HANS
And hey- Trotsky- some more bread, please.
TROTSKY
(walking away)
You have to stand in line.
SARA
You know you shouldn’t talk politics here! You come here, what? 2 times a week? 3? Don’t shit where you eat, papa.
HANS
He’s from Algiers.
SARA
With that accent? He’s from Paris.
HANS
His people are from Algiers.
SARA
What does that have to do with anything?
HANS
He’s a communist! So, hold on. Go back. Jean broke it off?
SARA
No, I broke it off with him.
HANS
But why? This is terrible! He’s so solid.
SARA
Ugh. He was cheating on me. Already! We’re not even married yet! I don’t need to be lied to for the rest of my life.
HANS
Then don’t get married.
SARA
Papa! You’re such a cynic!
HANS
No, not that everyone will lie on purpose, that’s not the problem. Its that everyone lies when they don’t even mean to. That’s what really sucks.
SARA
That’s terribly sad.
HANS
You get over it. You want someone to tell you the truth? Get a pet. Hey Trotsky! Where’s the wine?
TROTSKY
Here you are, comrade.
Trotsky pours the wine.
HANS
This is terrible! Did you change the wine?
TROTSKY
I didn’t. Management did.
HANS
I don’t like change!
SARA
Thank you.
HANS
So, you’re sure about this?
SARA
About Jean? Oh, yes. Its weird, it was only yesterday, right? But I’m already over it. It’s gone.
HANS
Sometimes feelings do that, don’t they? They just, they leave, and you can remember they were there, but its only a memory- could be a memory of anything, really... a pair of shoes. A tennis racket. But it was love! Wasn’t it?
SARA
I don’t know.
HANS
Maybe not, then.
SARA
I think Jean is an old coat. It fit great, I wore it all the time, it made me look like I wanted to look. But now it’s spring, and I don’t need it. Next time winter comes around, maybe I’ll want a new one.
HANS
People aren’t coats.
SARA
I know, I know. But I think I was only with him because he fit, you understand? When other people saw us together, they thought, oh yes, they look like a couple, that’s a match. But that doesn’t mean anything. Not really.
HANS
Hm. It does, a little bit. When your mother died, suddenly the way everyone saw me changed- now I am ‘the old lonely guy.’ And that put the idea in my head- maybe I AM the old lonely guy.
SARA
So now that’s the coat you’re wearing?
HANS
Yes. That’s the coat. And its shitty coat.
SARA
Well: at least its spring.
Music transition. Time passes.
TROTSKY
Here’s your change, monsieur.
SARA
Thank you.
HANS
Spaceba.
SARA
Oh poppa.
(To Totsky)
Don’t listen to him. He doesn’t mean it.
A chair pulls back, Hans and Sara stand up.
TROTSKY
(fake whispering)
Its ok, he’s wrong. I’m not a communist. I’m an anarchist.
HANS
That’s even worse!
SARA
Get your jacket, papa. I’ll meet you outside.
HANS
Of course.
Footsteps as Hans walks away.
SARA
Hey, Trotsky, do you smoke?
TROTSKY
You need a cigarette? I have some behind the bar--
SARA
(whispering, suggestively)
No, I mean, do you have a BREAK when you can smoke?
TROTSKY
I’m an anarchist- I take a break whenever I want.
SARA
I’ll be back in five minutes.
TROTSKY
Understood, comrade.
EXT. CAT STREET MARKET, HONG KONG, 1997 - DAY
The Cat Street market snakes through busy streets in the Causeway Bay neighborhood of Hong Kong. Vendors smoke cigarettes in the damp heat of the afternoon. Bad pop music leaks out of cafés, where motorcycle boys drink coffee and talk about girls.
RAUL VO
Dear Sara, Thank you for your letter. Its so strange to hear your voice- the voice of the author who wrote my favorite book. It sounds like you’re changing. Which is good, if you’re anything like, at least: if you’re sad all the time and you don’t know why. At least we’re not alone.
Footsteps. Raul approaches a vendor.
RAUL
Hi. Do you sell snakes?
VENDOR
Sure. Lots of snakes, come look.
Lots of hissing.
RAUL
Oh yeah, look at that. That’s a lot of snakes.
VENDOR
Very rare. This one good for you, make you a strong man.
RAUL
So, what do you feed them?
VENDOR
You don’t feed, you eat.
RAUL
I know, I know, but I mean YOU- what do YOU feed them?
VENDOR
Oh. Mice, they like mice.
RAUL
That’s what I’m looking for. Mice.
VENDOR
Ohhh. You already have snake.
RAUL
Yeah, sort of. He was a gift.
VENDOR
Nice gift!
RAUL
I guess.
VENDOR
So you need mice. Ok. I have. You want how many?
RAUL
Let’s start with one.
VENDOR
Ok. One mouse. Give me 40.
RAUL
For a mouse? I’ll give you 10.
VENDOR
Fat mouse! 20.
RAUL
15.
VENDOR
Ok, ok.
The rustle of money.
VENDOR
What kind of snake is it?
RAUL
I have no idea.
VENDOR
How do you know it eats mice?
RAUL
It told me.
VENDOR
That’s not good. Snakes don’t talk. Here’s your mouse.
RAUL
Thanks.
RAUL VO
So the man takes the mouse, puts it in a cardboard box, and puts the cardboard box into a brown paper bag. I give him the fifteen bucks, and he hands me the bag. Easy, right? But, from there, the whole thing turns into a Buster Keaton movie.
Ragtime piano, lo-fi, quick tempo. The whir of an old time film projector winds up. The SFX of the scene play out behind the VO, but also through an old time radio futz.
RAUL VO
I’m walking home, all happy and proud, with a live mouse in a paper bag. But I pass a restaurant- my usual place, right around the corner- and, man, it just smells amazing. So I go in and order my noodles, and, not really thinking about it, I put the paper bag down on the counter. But then one of the delivery guys accidentally picks up MY bag- the bag with the mouse in it, and takes off before I realize what’s happening. So I tell the old guy who runs the place, and he starts yelling at me- apparently the delivery was for his like favorite customer or something. So he puts the order the delivery guy should’ve taken into my hand, tells me the address, and shoves me out the door. And he’s yelling at me, very emphatic, so boom: I go running after the delivery guy. Its so hot out, Sara, I’m sweating like two rats fucking in a wool sock. I get to this high rise apartment building a couple of blocks away, and explain to the doorman what happened, and he says ‘yeah the delivery guy just went up.’ So he lets me go after him, and I go to the 23rd floor, apartment 2305, and there’s the delivery guy. Now, normally I’d know the delivery guys- I order from this place a couple of times a week, you know? But this guy is new, so I have to explain everything, and I when I tell him there’s a live mouse in the bag, he opens it up to take a look... and then he fucking screams and drops the bag, which is exactly when this beautiful woman opens her door. Now the mouse runs straight into the apartment, but she doesn’t see it, she’s just looking at us wondering the hell is going on. Just past her, on the living room floor, the fucking mouse- which is clearly scared to death- dodges under the couch. The beautiful woman- let’s call her Sandra - Sandra somehow completely missed the mouse situation, so she just gives me a blank stare as I hand her the bag with her noodles in it, and walk right passed her and start rifling under the couch. And I can see the mouse- right there, just inches out of my grasp... I’m stretching... I’ve almost got it!!!...
(beat)
Neither of us saw that fucking cat coming.
Loud hostile meows from cat attacking!
RAUL VO
So ok, the mouse makes a break for the bedroom, at which point Sandra finally sees him and screams. I chase the mouse into the bedroom and make a diving grab and just in time I manage to grab the fucker. I mean, he’s fast, but I’m faster. But the cat, that stupid, hostile cat, he jumps on me - I guess he’s assuming that me and the mouse are working together now, so we’re both enemies and he’s gonna take us out. Sandra is horrified by her little kitten who’s suddenly turned into a feral monster, and she comes over to grab the beast, but we all fall back on the bed, and somehow the button from her adorable business-casual shirt-dress gets stuck on my belt buckle. The cat runs away, but I’m still holding the mouse, and Sandra decides she needs to get away from me and the mouse- pretty understandable- but as she pulls herself away, her entire dress rips off her like tear-away pants on a male stripper at a bachelorette party. And of course that’s when her husband walks in. She’s standing there in nothing but panties-- and perhaps this doesn’t matter, but did I mention that she’s gorgeous? Like, a straight up 10. Her eyes explode with a terrified look as she stares at me, wondering if I have a solution, I suppose, but I’ve got nothing, so I just give a silent shrug. She shoves me behind the bed to hide. Then she puts on her ‘sweet and sexy’ face, leans in the doorway seductively, and calls to her husband. “What’s gotten into you?” He says. “Do you mind?” “No, not at all!” “Then fuck me, but- let’s do it in the kitchen!” “Really? I think we need the bed...” “NO! The kitchen. That’s what I want,” she purrs, and walks to the kitchen on the other side of the apartment. Hubbies no fool, he only sees her in those heels and black panties. Which means I can manage to slide out from the behind the bed, so quiet, like a ninja! And the mouse is in my pocket now, 100 percent furious at the whole situation, and I crawl on my belly like a commando towards the front door. The last thing I saw, as I squeezed quietly through the door, was Sandra, leaning up against the wall as her husband had his face buried in her ass, and she looked at me square in the eye, smiled and moaned the words “Thank you!” I thought she was talking to her husband, but she winked at me, then closed her eyes, hiked up one leg, and reached back to shove her husband’s face deeper inside. She looked happy.
Music fades.
INT. RANDOM CAFE, NORTHERN PARIS, 1959
The sound of the diners in the bistro are muffled by the bathroom door. Trotsky is grunting and breathing. So is Sara.
TROTSKY
(breathing heavily)
Mmmm. Oh my god you’re so hot.
SARA
(moaning)
Fuck me. Don’t wait. I want it.
SARA VO
Dear Raul, Ten minutes after I walked my father to his apartment, the anarchist we called Trotsky had my panties around my ankles and was pushing me up against the greasy tile of the bath room wall. I don’t know what I was thinking! I guess I wasn’t thinking, not at all, as he was biting my neck and his hands felt my hip bones, my thighs, my garden.
The scribbling sound becomes more of ‘scratching something out’ sound.
SARA
Ugh, no that’s dumb.
SARA VO
No, I won’t be polite like that. Its stupid. He put his hand on my pussy, first on my clit, rubbing gently, then grabbing my whole pussy with his hand and firmly squeezing, enveloping me. I breathe his breath, feel his muscles through his shirt and ugly black vest. I hold his hand in mine and move it, move into it.
Beat. Sounds of fucking.
SARA VO
You see, I learned something at Claire’s party last night. This Machine we live in, it’s vulnerable, it has a weakness. Its really a new world I’m in- a new kind of space and time. It looks just like it did yesterday, sure. But its not the same. And I’m not the same. Not at all.
In the distance, murky:
TROTSKY
(comes)
SARA
(comes)
Beat. Zippers, clothing being put straight. The sink turns on and someone washes their hands. A cigarette lights.
TROTSKY
I’m so glad you came back, madameoiselle.
SARA
Please, call me Sara.
She gives him a kiss.
TROTSKY
As you like.
SARA
Yes, as I like.
Beat.
SARA
You can tell me-- are you really an anarchist?
TROTSKY
Ha. Actually, I’m an Autonomist.
SARA
What’s that?
TROTSKY
An Autonomist believes every one is permanently separated from each other, and without acknowledging that, there’s no way forward.
SARA
We just connected pretty hard.
TROTSKY
Cute. But no. We tried, maybe. But we’re still different people, seeing things differently. All of us, every single person.
SARA
Sounds like anarchy to me.
TROTSKY
What would be the point in being an anarchist? We’re surrounded by anarchy anyway.
They step out of the bathroom into the restaurant.
TROTSKY
(waiter voice)
Au revoir, madameoiselle.
SARA
Au revoir, monsieur.
Music comes up as she walks out of the restaurant, and out onto the street.
SARA VO
I hope this letter finds you well, and please respond if I haven’t offended you with my rambling. Yours truly, Sara.
We follow Trotsky to the back. A DOOR CLOSES, A PHONE is picked up and dialed.
TROTSKY
It’s Trotsky...Fine, Red Hand 5307... Jean, you’re going to have to call the Director. You really fucked this up... I know, but that guy scares me, man, so this one’s on you... I know... Yeah, we’re going to have to adjust the plan... I don’t fucking know! Just deal with it.