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Hollyweird…

This fuckin’ town is weird… Hollyweird.

I get a call on Thursday to meet somebody on Saturday. From the sound of the call on my voice mail, it seems like I know this guy.

I rack my brain… Nope. Can’t place him.

He leaves his name but he also needs to brush up on his enunciation so of course, I can’t make it out.

Fuck it. He can call back.

Thursday night before I made my buffalo salami sammich, I pick up the phone to make a call but there’s no dialtone…

Interesting.

I tap the switch-hook a few times… Still no tone. I press a couple of numbers…

VOICE (O.S.)

Hello?

UNK

Yo.

VOICE (O.S.)

Yo?

UNK

Yo-yo!

VOICE (O.S.)

Is this Unknown Screenwriter?

UNK

Yeah.

VOICE (O.S.)

Hey Unknown, this is Tony from over here

at Blanket Films.

UNK

Blanket Films? Tony? Tony who?

VOICE (O.S.)

Tony D… You remember, you spilled a drink

all over me… About a month ago?

UNK

Didn’t you bump into ME?

VOICE (O.S.)

Whatever. Hey listen. How about a

meet on Saturday?

UNK

About?

VOICE (O.S.)

We wanna make a movie with ya.

UNK

We?

VOICE (O.S.)

Blanket Films. Give me an hour on

Saturday… Lemme buy you lunch.

Ah… The magic words. Lunch. I gots to eat and geez… I was starving when he called — so in a swirl of momentary weakness…

I agree to the meet.

Fast forward to Saturday about 11:00 A.M. and I hop on my trusty Firebolt and sport-ride my way to the address…

All I can say is thank God for Google Maps… LOL.

So I find this building in a seedy part of Hollyweird… I don’t EVEN want to leave the Firebolt on the street in this part of town so I start pushing…

*NOTE: I’ll park my bike in your living room if you let me.

I finally find some very steep stairs on the side of the building and up on the second floor… A window.

In the lower right hand corner of that window…

A piece of paper taped with the handwritten scrawl: Blanket Films LTD.

Hey… I’m hungry!

I park the bike underneath the stairs… Out of sight. Ah, I feel better now.

One step at a time I climb the stairs… Very steep. They seem TOO steep.

In my right hand, I have my full face helmet and yeah… You guessed it. I’m ready to swing if need be.

I reach the top of the stairs and am about to knock on the door when it opens right up.

TONY

You made it!

UNK

With a minute to spare.

Tony ushers me in… Remember GET SHORTY? Remember Gene Hackman’s office? This is worse. Much worse.

It stinks like… Like… Hmmm. Like rotten hamburger. I slide into a chair in front of Tony’s desk and Tony wedges himself into his chair.

*NOTE: He really does wedge himself into the chair.

I sit my helmet on the corner of the desk while Tony starts taking food out of a plain brown paper sack.

Burritos.

At least they look like burritos. LOL.

They seem kinda… Kinda… Hard. But hey… Who am I to turn down a burrito? Tony gets to his right away and by the time I’ve unwrapped the GREASY WAX PAPER from my own piece of Mexican culinary art, he’s inhaled two-thirds of his.

TONY

You like coffee?

UNK

I live on coffee.

Tony proceeds to pull out a couple of “used and abused” styrofoam cups…

TONY

Black?

UNK

Black.

He stands from the desk — cups in hand — shuffles over to a sink across the tiny office.

TONY

So Unk… I just read CURRENT REWRITE

and you know what? We like it.

While the hot water runs from the tap, Tony wrenches the lid off a small jar of instant coffee.

Folgers?

He dumps a pile of instant coffee into his left hand. He stares at the pile for a few seconds, then cuts the instant coffee pile in half with his right index finger.

UNK

Mind me asking how you got it?

He fills both styrofoam cups up with the hot water from the tap… Mmmm!

TONY

(laughing)

How would you like to direct?

UNK

It’s sold.

Tony spins around with both cups filled to the top. I can see grains of instant coffee dissolving on the sides of the cups as he shuffles and spills on his way back to the desk.

He sits the ugliest cup down in front of me…

TONY

Sold?

UNK

About a year ago.

I lift up the cup — observing the elegance. Fuck it. I take a sip.

UNK

Wow. You gotta great hot water

heater.

TONY

We wanna make that movie.

UNK

Outta my hands. Good coffee.

TONY

Gonna eat that?

UNK

Go for it.

These are huge burritos… He takes a bite of mine and half of it vanishes. I can see beans, rice, some kinda meat… Some kinda sauce… I watch the crumbs of the tortilla fall down on the desk…

TONY

(chewing)

What else ya got?

UNK

Huh?

TONY

(still chewing)

Scripts. What else?

UNK

Sorry. Nothin’ for sale. I’m a producer

too.

TONY

No shit? When this happen?

UNK

About a year ago.

The last of the burrito disappears…

TONY

No Shit? How about a partnership?

UNK

I have partners. What do you bring

to the table?

Mesmerized by the crumbs on the desk, Tony dots his right thumb with his tongue and proceeds to press it down on on several crumbs at a time.

TONY

Money.

UNK

What kinda money?

Tony jams his fat stubby thumb into his pie-hole and sucks every crumb right off.

TONY

(swallowing)

Big money.

UNK

Gotta card?

He rips a small triangle out of the brown paper bag…

TONY

Gotta pen? Pencil?

I take my brand new Pilot G2 07 black roller ball pen out of my jacket pocket — extend it to Tony.

He licks his fingers with his Saint Bernard dog of a tongue before grabbing the pen. He writes down a number — hands the triangle back to me.

TONY

My private number.

I stand up…

UNK

Cool. I’ll talk to my partners. If you don’t

hear from us, means we’re not interested.

Tony stands… Extends my pen back to me…

TONY

Big money.

UNK

Keep it. Thanks for the coffee.

Tony sits back down. I wonder if I should turn my back on him but through my peripheral vision I can see he’s having quite a time getting back into that chair.

TONY

Leave it open.

UNK

Huh?

TONY

The door. Stinks in here.

UNK

Oh, no problem.

I open the door and maneuver down those steep fuckin’ stairs…

I make it to my bike and notice a big puddle of piss underneath the front wheel. I look around and spot a guy twenty-five yards down the alley stumbling away from me. I turn back to the front wheel and watch piss streaming down the right front fork.

Wonderful. Seems THICKER than normal but what do I know?

I push the bike into the alley and start it up.

Sitting there letting it get warm, I glance back up at the Blanket Films sign as I slide my helmet on.

With my left toe, I click the Firebolt into first gear and ease out the clutch… Rolling, I hit the street… Relieved. Hungry.

Hollyweird.

Unk

Tags: Hollyweird screenwriter

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