“Larry, June, And The Year Of The Cat” — A Screenplay, Part Three

Posted: February 5, 2013 in Uncategorized

Entire contents trademarked TM and copyrighted (c) by Ryan Carey, 2013. That means that is you want to reproduce or us this material for any reason, you have to ask me real nice.

CUT TO :

INT. – BAR – EVENING

LARRY is visible entering the bar through a back service entrance. The bar is manned by a BARTENDER, and there are roughly a half-dozen customers seated at a smattering of tables, and two or three others seated at the bar itself. There is a stage at the front of the tabled area. LARRY makes his way to the bar and offers a firm handshake to the BARTENDER, while simultaneously striking up conversation.

LARRY : ‘Evening, my good man, Larry Pritchard, Synched-Up Entertainment.

BARTENDER : You’re that karaoke guy in from Minneapolis?

LARRY : That I am. Got a two-wheeler I can borrow for a few?

BARTENDER : Sure, hold on a sec.

(Yells into the back)

BARTENDER CON’T : Wanda! Can ya roll out that handtruck over by the cooler?

A moment or two passes in silence, LARRY rapping his fingers against the bar rail, the BARTENDER drying beer glasses, until he calls out again.

BARTENDER CON’T : Wanda!!!!!!!!!!

The BARTENDER pours a beer from the tap and hands it to one of the customers seated at the bar, while LARRY reaches into his shirt pocket for his cigarettes,

BARTENDER : Well, fuck it, I dunno where she is.

The BARTENDER turns a glance to one of the PATRONs at the bar and addresses him directly.

BARTENDER CON’T : Rog, make sure the place doesn’t burn down for a couple minutes, willya?

BAR PATRON : You got it.

CUT TO :

EXT . – REAR BAR PARKING LOT – EVENING

The BARTENDER, two-wheeler in tow, and LARRY approach LARRY’s car. He inserts his key into the hatch-back and pops it open.

BARTENDER : Was startin’ to think you got lost.

LARRY : Expected me earlier, huh?

BARTENDER : We never did nothin’ like this before. How long’s it all take to set up?

LARRY : Shit — twenty minutes.

BARTENDER : Well, hell, in that case I guess yer early.

LARRY (chuckles) :  I dunno, could be. I like to give myself a little extra in a new joynt just in case I need to hook up a power strip or anything like that.

BARTENDER : Nah, won’t need none o’ that. There’s like four sockets up front there.

LARRY : Good deal. Quick n’ easy.

BARTENDER : You hopin’ I’m gonna finish that with “—like the broads in this town?”

LARRY (self-conscious laughter) : Not really. I dunno. Hadn’t thought that far ahead, I guess.

LARRY and the BARTENDER reach into the back of the car and hoist the karaoke machine onto the two-wheeler.

BARTENDER : What? You don’t bust each other’s balls back in the Twin Cities?

BARTENDER slaps LARRY on the back. LARRY locks the back of the car up again.

BARTENDER CON’T (looking at karaoke machine in a mild state of disbelief) : This it?

LARRY : This is it. Well, pretty much. I’ll come grab the songbooks and the screen when we’re done with this bad boy. You guys have a mic and a stand, right?

BARTENDER : Sure. We sometimes have a band on weekends. When the owner don’t feel like flushin’ his money down the toilet.

LARRY : Yeah — I was kinda surprised by this whole gig, gotta admit. And that there wasn’t anybody closer who did this kinda shit.

The BARTENDER takes the lead pushing the machine in on the two-wheeler, Larry a half-step behind him. They continue conversing as they make their way back towards the rear entrance of the bar.

BARTENDER : It’s the tourists, ain’t it? Lotsa folks come through on these summer n’ fall weekends, checking out the potters an’ painters an’ quilters an’ I dunno what the fuck else. Even got a blacksmith in here in town. Ronnie figgers he’ll give all them Minneapolis yuppies the kinda bar scene they’re used to back home.

LARRY : Yeah, I heard this town’s almost like a throwback artist’s commune or something.

BARTENDER : Never been to one o’ those, but yeah — back when property was cheap here, a lotta artistic types started buyin’ up houses and convertin’ ’em into like home studio things or whatever. Started bringin’  in a buncha folks on little weekend-drive leaf trips or whatever. Then they kinda slowly started showin’ up in the spring an’ summer, too, after awhile. I dunno — nothin’ else ta do, I guess.

LARRY : They work yer nerves?

BARTENDER : Shit. They can. Coupl’a the diners in town are more like them gourmet coffee bars now. But fuck it — it’s good fer business, ya know? This town was pretty much a ghost town before all that.

LARRY (half to himself) : “We had to destroy the village in order to save it.”

BARTENDER : What’s that?

LARRY : Nothing. Thanks for doin’ the heavy labor.

BARTENDER : Shit, gets me outta that smoke pit fer a couple minutes. You’ll prob’ly have to handle the rest on yer own, though. Got thirsty animals back in that cage.

LARRY : No problem. ‘S what I get paid for.

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