This is the original version of “The Black Cat” screenplay exercise that I posted on August 4th. After making changes based on feedback from visitors, I moved the original version here. To go back and read the updated version, click here.
Fade In:
- INT. SMITH KITCHEN, MORNING
Open on the front door letter box that faces into the Smith Family kitchen, seem from the POV of PLUTO the cat. Sticky tape holds the letter flap together. We watch, patiently, to the sound of the kettle boiling, until “pop”, the post comes through like a toaster ejecting toast.
PLUTO (THE CAT)
Miaow! Miaow! Miaow! (etc…)
Pluto’s miaowing continues until OSCAR comes to take the letters from the door. OSCAR is a secondary school teacher in his late twenties, wearing a tie and a short sleeved shirt that cost less than a replacement letter box. The cat follows him to the kitchen table, where he starts flipping through the letters. Bills, final warnings, overdue credit card statements. We still haven’t seen his face, because the cat simply isn’t interested. He reaches a final letter, different from the others, and opens it to read. PLUTO jumps onto the table.
OSCAR
Ugh. (Head thuds against the table).
He takes up the letter and puts it into his pocket. It crumples. He pours the coffee and picks up PLUTO.
OSCAR
Come on, Pluto. If we feed her coffee first she might not kill us both.
- INT. SMUDGE’s BASEMENT
OSCAR and PLUTO lead us to a basement door, which he knocks on with the toe of his shoe (he’s carrying a mug of coffee and the cat).
OSCAR
Smudge? Are you decent?
SMUDGE
I’m working, Oscar!
OSCAR
I brought coffee and cat.
OSCAR pushes down the handle of the door with his elbow and they head down the stairs to Molly “SMUDGE” Smith’s studio. Large desk with an artist’s board, a computer that is five years old but easily the most expensive thing in the house, and walls covered in sample art and character designs from her webcomic “The Black Cat.”
SMUDGE’s is the first face we have seen. She is the same age as OSCAR, but looks older, and she wears jogging clothes several sizes too big. SMUDGE is talented – bright watercolours with energetic lines – but it’s basically derivate manga bullshit and the only person who doesn’t know that is OSCAR. SMUDGE might sleep better if this wasn’t true.
SMUDGE
Come here Pluto.
SMUDGE has switched windows on her computer and turned in her chair so that the cat can come to her, which he does. OSCAR follows down the stairs.
SMUDGE
What time is it?
OSCAR
Eight-Thirty.
SMUDGE
Wednesday evening?
OSCAR
Thursday morning. Going outside today?
SMUDGE
Nope.
OSCAR comes up alongside to kiss her on the cheek. She strokes PLUTO.
OSCAR
Post arrived.
SMUDGE
Did you open it?
OSCAR
Yes. Watcha working on.
He looks over her shoulder. On the computer screen is a spreadsheet showing profit and loss from her webcomic. There aren’t a lot of numbers.
SMUDGE
This month’s breakdown for the website.
OSCAR
Hey, black numbers. Black numbers are good.
SMUDGE
I’m making less than minimum wage.
OSCAR
Internet money’s like dog years. You’ve got to multiply it by seven.
SMUDGE
Cat years. Add 15, add 10, add x by 4.
OSCAR
Sure, but, you know, bigger than they look.
SMUDGE
Is that what you’re going to tell the bank?
OSCAR
(Moves over and starts looking at her drawings) These are great. Did Jones agree to cut the hosting charges?
SMUDGE
He did. He will. He’s not competitive ‘cause he won’t host porn on his server.
OSCAR
And there you stand, the last bastion of decency on the internet.
SMUDGE
I’d be better off working in Starbucks.
OSCAR
For the uniform?
SMUDGE
For the free coffee. (She makes a mock disgusted face and puts down the coffee he brought)
OSCAR
Come help me feed the kids.
- INT SMITH LIVING ROOM
OSCAR and SMUDGE make their way back up the stairs and into the living room.
The Smith’s living room is not a place for human beings. There are many pets here; birds, goldfish, a small monkey, and a bowl for a dog that we can’t see
As they talk, OSCAR works his way around the cages, feeding and watering the animals. SMUDGE follows him carrying PLUTO.
OSCAR
I could stay and have breakfast with you.
SMUDGE
You’ll be late for work.
OSCAR
Modern youth all have iPhones. They practically teach themselves.
SMUDGE
If you’re talking about breakfast then it’s bad news.
OSCAR
Yeah. I’m sorry.
He hands her the crumpled letter from his pocket and gets back to the animals. She smooths the letter on her thigh.
SMUDGE
What for?
OSCAR
The union isn’t going to pay.
Smudge awkwardly opens the letter with her free hand and glares at it.
OSCAR
Hey, look, the paper offered a payment plan.
SMUDGE
I don’t see why we have to pay their lawyers.
OSCAR
Because we lost.
SMUDGE
I lost, Oscar. I got fired.
OSCAR
And they were wrong. And you got better. And the union should be paying.
- INT SMITH KITCHEN
The argument follows them back into the Kitchen. SMUDGE sits at the table.
SMUDGE
Was this all the mail? Any good news?
When he doesn’t answer she starts shuffling the letters. OSCAR starts tidying up.
The phone rings. SMUDGE is right next to it, but she does not pick it up. OSCAR goes past her and answers the phone.
OSCAR
Sure, she’s right here, I can… Ok…
She hung up. Who’s Poppy?
SMUDGE
Poppy Who?
OSCAR
Poppy who was just on the phone and says you need to come in this morning.
SMUDGE
Must be a wrong number.
OSCAR
Is it a job interview? You can tell me.
SMUDGE
No. No! I thought you supported what I was doing here?
OSCAR
Of course I…
SMUDGE
But you want me to get a job?
OSCAR
I want you to be happy…
SMUDGE
You want me to get a uniform and tell people to have a nice day.
OSCAR
Don’t forget the free coffee.
SMUDGE
You’re not funny.
OSCAR
Look, if you decide to go back to work I’ll support you. There are other newspapers in other towns. I can change schools. I’ll go where you go, you know that.
But if it’s still what you want to do, I think you should make the business work. You’re too talented to waste your time working for someone else. The comic is starting to bring in money, and those numbers were the best we’ve seen since you started. These things take time.
We’re managing.
I’ll sell the car
SMUDGE
If you sell the car how will you get to work?
OSCAR
I’ll steal a bike. I used to ride into college, remember?
He goes to the fridge to get some juice, but mostly so that she can’t look him in the eyes. Something worse stops him in his tracks.
OSCAR
Smudge? Whose beers are these in the fridge?
SMUDGE
Yours? [Long Pause. SMUDGE looks at PLUTO.] Did you put them there, PLUTO?
OSCAR
You want me to take them away?
SMUDGE
It’s ok, Oscar. You can have beers in the house. I’m ok.
Oscar clearly wants to say something more, but can’t for the life of him think how to say it without making things much, much worse, so he chickens out and moves on.
OSCAR
Watcha going to do today?
SMUDGE
Draw. Write. Say rude things about the union on the internet.
OSCAR
You’ll be home all day?
SMUDGE
Where else would I be?
OSCAR
It’s not a problem, if you want to go out. I can feed PLUTO.
SMUDGE
No you can’t. And why would I want to go out? You’re going to be late for work.
OSCAR
You sure you don’t want me to take those beers away?
SMUDGE
Get out of here before you get fired too.
He grabs his coat, gives her a kiss and heads towards the door.
SMUDGE
Hey, Oscar?
OSCAR
[Popping his head back through the door] Princess?
SMUDGE
I love you. Don’t sell the car.
OSCAR
Dog years, Smudge. The bank will understand.
OSCAR leaves. SMUDGE strokes the PLUTO for a bit, then puts him on the table and looks at the letter. The cat watches her until she can’t stand it anymore.
SMUDGE
It wasn’t a lie, PLUTO. It was a projection. The site will make money.
PLUTO is not convinced. SMUDGE gets up and checks out of the window as OSCAR drives the car away.
SMUDGE
Do you think he’ll see me if I go out the back? [She looks back at PLUTO, who still isn’t convinced.] Fuck you, PLUTO.
She pushes the cat off the table.
- INT. POPPY’s PUBLICITY
Poppy’s Publicity is based in two featureless rooms in a featureless warehouse smack back in the middle of a featureless industrial estate.
SMUDGE comes in through the front door without looking up – she doesn’t need to because she knows where she’s going. We don’t see outside and it isn’t clear how much time has passed.
POPPY, a middle aged woman in a Marks and Spencer’s suit, is being interviewed by two plain clothes police officers Detective Inspectors TIGGER and SHADOW. They are all sitting in her office, which overlooks the main room through a large window like a two-way mirror in a police interview room if the mirror didn’t work, or a science fiction lab for aliens to observe the behaviour of monkeys.
SMUDGE opens the office door and pokes her head around. Everyone stops talking and stares at her. POPPY’s eyes widen and she shakes her head, as if she were trying to shake an insect from her nose. SMUDGE backs out closes the door.
SMUDGE trudges over to one of two tables that look like they have been stolen from a school. There are boxes of leaflets and boxes of envelopes. SMUDGE sits at her table, picks up one box of leaflets, and two boxes of envelopes.
At the other table sits FELIX. FELIX grunts into his beard as he stuffs leaflets mechanically into envelopes. He is hypnotically fast. On his T-Shirt is a Manga girl with impossible cleavage positioned for an up-skirt shot of her underwear. Emblazoned above the startled girl’s pink hair are the words “Fuck Bitches.”
SMUDGE starts stuffing envelopes. She lacks both the speed and the zen-like quality of FELIX. The clock on the wall anaemically struggles to move its own second hand.
FELIX
Hey. Hey, Smudge. Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey, Smudge.
SMUDGE
What do you want Felix?
FELIX
You got any cigarettes?
SMUDGE
No.
Time is passing. SMUDGE looks at her hands. Her hands are shaking. Every second marks envelopes that are not being stuffed. She looks back at the office. The police officers are still talking to POPPY.
SMUDGE
Felix, do you know what’s going on in there?
Felix doesn’t answer. She goes back to stuffing envelopes, but she cuts her finger. She opens a drawer, pulls out a plaster. She squeezes the finger and watches the blood. Then she puts on the plaster so as to protect the leaflets.
FELIX
Hey. Hey, SMUDGE. You got anything to drink?
SMUDGE
No.
FELIX
Bitch.
The police officers leave the office, followed by POPPY. They speak outside the door, threatening pleasantries that we can’t hear. SMUDGE keeps stuffing envelopes. POPPY comes back in, then goes into the office. Something is smashed. POPPY starts going through her own desk then, after more envelopes are stuffed, re-enters the main room.
POPPY comes over to SMUDGE and puts an envelope of money on the table. It’s not a lot, low denomination notes that have been used elsewhere.
SMUDGE
What’s this?
POPPY
Wages for this week.
SMUDGE.
I’m not done. You haven’t done the count.
POPPY
It doesn’t matter.
SMUDGE
But you haven’t done the count. I can go faster.
POPPY
It doesn’t matter. There won’t be a count. I have to let you go.
SMUDGE
What?
POPPY
I have to let you go. You don’t work here anymore.
SMUDGE
Poppy, please. I can stuff faster. I need the money.
POPPY
I can’t help you.
SMUDGE
But what am I going to do?
POPPY
Something else.
- EXT. POPPY’s PUBLICITY.
A faceless industrial estate. SMUDGE is sitting on the curb of an empty road, the envelope of money on the floor next to her. All that is missing is a bottle of vodka. She is peeling and replacing the plaster on her finger. The sunlight is too bright.
Felix comes and stands close enough that he casts his shadow over her. He’s clutching a larger envelope of cash.
SMUDGE
She fire you too?
SMUDGE takes FELIX’s lack of confirmation as an affirmative.
FELIX
There’s an off-licence by the garage, right?
SMUDGE
Yeah. Good luck, Felix.
FELIX
Whatever. You got any cigarettes?
SMUDGE
I don’t smoke.
Felix wanders off. SMUDGE takes one last look at his T-Shirt.
SMUDGE
Fuck bitches.
–END–
Books by Keith
