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

Posted: February 6, 2013 in Uncategorized

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



LARRY, wandering rather aimlessly along the sidewalked streets of town, newspaper still tucked under his arm, coffee still in hand. He takes time to look into shop windows and is generally just absorbing the town atmosphere and the feeling of the day. He’s clearly in no hurry and has very little to do with his time. It’s a good old-fashioned “morning constitutional.” When he finally notices an empty bench in a public park across the street from where he is walking, he crosses over to it, sits down, opens the paper, and sips his coffee.



LARRY’s face, seen from inside, peers into a QUILT SHOP window. The front door opens and LARRY enters the shop. There is an older WOMAN working behind a counter, standing on a stool, hanging up a new quilt for display on the wall. No other customers are present.

LARRY : Doing okay up there?

WOMAN : Oh, be a dear, would’ja? Come on back here and hold this footstool steady while I finish up, won’t be a minute.

LARRY : Sure.

LARRY makes his way over to the other side of the counter, kneels down, and places both arms around the stool, holding it in place. The WOMAN finishes fixing the quilt to a series of  hooks in the wall and steps down as LARRY removes his arms from around the stool.

WOMAN : Oh, yer a lifesaver.

LARRY moves back from behind the counter to the retail area of the shop.

LARRY : Think nothing of it, my good woman.

LARRY points to the quilts on the wall and others arranged and folded on tables throughout the small store.

LARRY CON’T: You make all these yourself?

WOMAN : When I’m not doing something else.

LARRY : How long do they take?

The WOMAN breaks open a roll of change and dumps it into her cash register.

WOMAN : Depends. Some a day, others a week. Take a look at the prices and you can get a good idea how long each one took.

LARRY(chucking): Fifty bucks a day, something like that?

WOMAN : Maybe if this was China. Try adding a one in front and now you might be talking.

LARRY begins browsing  the quilts on the tables.

LARRY : Well, they’re worth every penny, I’m sure.

WOMAN : I like to think so. It’s time from my life I can never have back, isn’t it?

LARRY : Truer words were never spoken.

WOMAN : ‘Course, I suppose we can say that about pretty much anything, can’t we?

LARRY : Meaning?

WOMAN : Whatever we do, whatever we just did — there goes a little bit of time in our life we can’t ever get back.

LARRY (pausing) :  That’s a little heavy (pausing again and grinning), but it’s a fact I can’t argue with.

WOMAN : That’s life, innit? No returns or exchanges. (pauses, smiling slightly) Kinda like my shop.

LARRY : Guess you must copy your rules from God.

WOMAN : Who better ta set store policy?

LARRY stops browsing and leisurely makes his way to the door to exit.

LARRY : Nobody I can think of. Well, have yourself a good day.

WOMAN : You too dear, thanks again.

LARRY exits the shop.



LARRY is seen seated at an outdoor cafe, eating a sandwich and drinking an iced tea. He’s very near the end of his meal, and as he finishes the last bit of his sandwich and drinks the last of his iced tea, he picks up the check from the table, has a glance at it, stands up, takes a ten dollar bill out of his wallet, leaves it on the table, and opens the gated fence door off  to the side of the tables, to resume his walk along the sidewalks of town. After closing the gate behind him, he reaches into his shirt pocket, takes out a cigarette, puts it in his mouth, takes his lighter from his pants pocket, and lights up before strolling along on his way.



LARRY is standing on the sidewalk outside JUNE’s home/studio. He reaches into his pocket for his wallet, retrieving her business card from the wallet’s rather stuffed insides. He takes a look at the card again, comparing the address on it to the one above her door.

LARRY (to himself) : Well, guess this is it.

LARRY tucks the card back inside his wallet and stuffs the wallet back into his pants pocket. He puts out his cigarette on the sidewalk and stamps the butt with his foot.  Walking up the stone-lined path to her house, he taps his hand against the words “COME IN, WE’RE OPEN” on the hand-painted wooden business sign on the side of the path, staked into her yard. He steps up onto her front porch, opens the screen door, and makes his way into the house, slowly  closing the door behind him  to avoid it loudly snapping shut.

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