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

Posted: February 5, 2013 in Uncategorized

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



LARRY gathers his belongings for the weekend in his less-than-modest studio apartment. He roughly shoves a couple changes of clothes, an extra pair of shoes, etc. into an overnight bag on his unmade bed. He opens his closet and inspects a couple of ties, then drapes them over a wire hanger that he has a pressed white dress shirt hanging on. He lays the shirt and ties out over the top of the overnight bag, looks at his watch, and proceeds  into the kitchen, where he as a small table-and-two-chairs- type set-up, empty but for an astray on the table. He takes a seat, lights a cigarette, and looks out his kitchen window. His reverie is interrupted by an incoming call on his cell phone. He looks at the number, takes a bit of a deep breath, then lets it ring one more time before picking up.

LARRY (into phone) : Hi dad, what’s up?


LARRY (into phone) CON’T: Are you sure? Is that definitely what he said?

(longer pause)

LARRY (into phone) CON’T : I know you don’t trust those guys, but —

(brief pause)

LARRY (into phone) CON’T: Right, but then why have you been taking your car there all these years? Seriously, I mean, since I was a kid.

(another, longer pause)

LARRY(into phone) CON’T : No, I’m not trying to tell you what you should do, it’s just that —

(brief pause again)

LARRY (into phone) CON’T : I know, I know — sometimes you just have to —

(lengthy pause, LARRY sets the phone down for a moment and take a couple more drags off his cigarette)

LARRY (into phone) CON’T : Well, just let me know how it all plays out, okay? I’m running a little short on time right now, I gotta —

(short pause)

LARRY CON’T : No, I told you, dad. Wisconsin. (momentary pause) No, it’s not all that far. (brief pause again) I think it’s two-lane most of the way. (pauses, gives a mildly exasperated look and rubs his forehead) Probably two, two-and-a-half hours, tops. (another, lengthier pause) I changed the oil , I dunno, maybe three weeks ago. (short pause) Okay, love you too, dad.

LARRY clicks the call off, gathers up his shirt, ties, and overnight bag in two hands, proceeds to the doorway, surveys the place quickly one last time, and exits, closing and locking the door behind him.



Driver’s side window half-rolled down, LARRY smokes as he drives, taking in some sights in passing along the way, all depicted from his perspective in the driver’s seat. City streets with semi-heavy car and pedestrian traffic give way to a largely-uncongested freeway with the requisite billboards, etc., which in turn give way to a bridge going across a river, and finally to tree-lined, two-way, rural-ish highway, culminating with a shot of a sign reading ” The Rotary Club Welcomes You To — SPLIT ROCK, WISCONSIN — Home Of The Turttles!”



LARRY gathers his belongings from the car before giving it a second thought, placing them back in the back seat, and proceeding into the motel office.



No one is at the desk but LARRY hears a TV set from behind the closed door to the office’s back room and rings the bell at the desk.

MOTEL CLERK (from other side of door) : Coming.

The MOTEL CLERK emerges from the door, TV set visible in the background, and closes the door behind him, approaching the desk.

MOTEL CLERK CON’T: What can I do ya for?

LARRY : Single room, two nights, smoking.

MOTEL CLERK : Don’t gotta ask. They’re all smoking here until Madison says otherwise.

LARRY : I like it, I like it.

MOTEL CLERK (now standing directly behind cash register at desk): 39 a night, in advance, check-out’s at 11:00.

LARRY (opening wallet): Mind if I just pay you for the whole thing now?

MOTEL CLERK : Mind? Hell, you pay in cash, I’m orderin’ a pizza.

LARRY (handing over money): How much then?

MOTEL CLERK  (tapping numbers into calculator) : Let’s see — 84.50. 78 bucks for me, 6.50 for Madison.

LARRY hands the MOTEL CLERK two fifties, waits while the CLERK makes change, then takes change and key from the clerk, heads toward the door.

MOTEL CLERK CON’T : So that’s number 6, second one from the end, and before ya even ask, yes, everything’s all cleaned and laundered an’ all that. Should be a couple sets a’ towels in there. Iron and board if ya need it.

LARRY : Thanks.



Larry arm-hauls his belongings into the room, tosses them on the bed, checks his watch.

LARRY (to himself) : ‘Bout an hour —

LARRY proceeds to unlock the ironing board from the wall apparatus it’s secured in, sets it up, then walks a short distance into the bathroom and starts the bathroom sink slowly. The water runs brown for minute.

LARRY (to himself) CON’T: Figures.

The water begins to run clear and Larry positions the iron right underneath it to fill it up. He turns off the sink, wipes off the excess water that’s run down the surface of the iron with his shirt-sleeve. He whistles as he plugs in the iron.



Larry, still whistling and now with a freshly-ironed shirt and tie , jingles his car keys in his hand, tosses them aimlessly into the air before catching them, unlocks his car, gets inside, starts the engine, rolls the window halfway down, lights a cigarette, takes a quick drag, and pulls out of the lot.

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