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

Posted: February 7, 2013 in Uncategorized

All 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.



It’s around 9:00 in the evening and the bar is completely packed. Every table and barstool are occupied and there are people standing around the room, as well. LARRY takes the microphone from a PATRON  who has just finished singing a number on stage and begins speaking into it.

LARRY (into microphone) : Alright, ladies and gentlemen, give it up for John!!!!!!!!

Applause carries around the room, as well as some hooting and hollering. After a half-minute or so the applause dies down, and LARRY resumes speaking.

LARRY (into microphone) CON’T : Alright, folks, your host is gonna take a little break here but we’ll be back in about fifteen minutes with —

LARRY pauses and looks down at the cards in his hand.

LARRY (into microphone) CON’T : —Sheila, Ward, and Cleve! See you in fifteen!

Polite applause around the room as LARRY steps down from the stage and heads toward the back exit.



LARRY takes a cigarette from the pack in his shirt pocket and puts it in his mouth. Just as he’s aboutt to light it, BERT steps out and joins him.

BERT :  Gettin’ some fresh air?

LARRY : Until I light this up.

BERT : I’ll take one o’ those if you got a spare.

LARRY : Sure.

LARRY taps his cigarette pack so that one juts forward and extends the pack to BERT, who takes the proffered smoke and puts it in his mouth.

LARRY CON’T : Didn’t know you partook.

LARRY lights his cigarette and hands the lighter to BERT, who in turn lights up as well.

BERT : Ennnhhh — tryin’ ta cut back.

LARRY takes a drag, exhales.

LARRY : Same here.

BERT (chuckling) : I can tell. Seems like yer takin’ it easy with the beer tonight, though. Ain’t served ya another since that first one.

LARRY takes a drag, exhales.

LARRY : Yeah. Not really feelin’ it so much.

BERT hands the lighter back to LARRY, takes a drag from his cigarette, exhales.

LARRY CON’T : Still — good crowd tonight.

BERT  : No June, though, huh?

LARRY : Said she prob’ly wouldn’t be feelin’ up to it.

BERT takes a drag, exhales.

BERT : Not surprised.

LARRY : You know somethin’ I don’t?

BERT : Depends on how much she’s told ya, so — (takes a drag and exhales) guess the answer t’yer question is either “sure, a lot” or else “probl’y so.”

LARRY takes a drag, exhales.

LARRY : Either way yer a step ahead  o’  me.

LARRY pauses before resuming speaking.

LARRY CON’T : Which probably ain’t so hard.

BERT : Shit, that’s what makes like innerstin’ though, right? Findin’ out about people? Figurin’ ’em out as ya go along? Alla  that?

LARRY : Sure, why not?

BERT takes a drag, exhales.

BERT : I’ll just tell ya this one thing : don’t get too far ahead o’ yerself. (long pause as he takes another drag and exhales) An’ if ya hurt ‘er, I’ll kill ya — slowly an’ painfully.

LARRY looks somewhat startled, but after a brief pause opts to resume a normal, conversational tone.

LARRY : Known ‘er a long time, I take it?

BERT : Shit, 20 years? Somethin’ like that.

LARRY takes a drag, exhales.

LARRY : Well, don’t sweat it, my man. ‘S just a dinner date.

BERT : Yeah, well (takes a drag, exhales) — that’s a bigger step fer some than it is fer others.

LARRY : Fair enough. I’ll definitely tell ‘er she’s got first-class protection.

BERT takes a drag, exhales.

BERT : Seriously. Don’t ferget what I said.

BERT drops his cigarette butt to the ground, puts it out with his shoe.

BERT CON’T : An’ flowers’re always nice.

LARRY takes a final drag off his cigarette and drops the butt, putting it out with his shoe, as well.

LARRY : I ain’t that  rusty.

BERT : Could’a fooled me. ‘S almost like there’s two of ya.

LARRY : Whaddaya mean?

BERT : Up there on that stage ya seem pretty comfortable with folks — hell, a natural, even. But in person, face ta face, one on one —

BERT pauses, clearly unsure of exactly how to proceed.

LARRY (chuckling) : Go on say, it.

BERT : Well, don’t take this the wrong way, but (another lengthy pause) — yer kinda awkward, man.

LARRY laughs slightly before speaking.

LARRY : Been called a lot worse, believe me.

BERT : Well, Wanda’s prob’ly swamped behind the bar now. It’s like hitchin’ yer wagon to a chicken, I’m tellin’ ya.

LARRY : Well, everybody needs a break.

BERT walks to the open rear door, pauses in the doorway, turns to address LARRY one more time.

BERT : You’ll ‘member what I said?

LARRY gives an awkward mock half-salute.

LARRY : Aye-aye, cap’n.

BERT : Okay. My job here’s done, then.

LARRY : See ya back inside in a few.

LARRY paces for a moment in semi-circle, runs his hand through his hair, kicks at his stomped-out cigarette butt, and takes his cell phone out of his pants pocket. He works his way down the list of numbers on the phone and makes a selection, then holds the phone to his ear.

VOICE ON PHONE : Welcome to TCF bank automated menu, for balance information, press —

LARRY presses 1 on the phone.

VOICE ON PHONE CON’T : Please enter your account number.

LARRY, straining a bit to see in the dark, presses a series of keys on the phone.

VOICE ON PHONE CON’T : Please enter your secret code.

LARRY, again fumbling a bit, enters a shorter series of numbers into the phone.

VOICE ON PHONE CON’T : Your checking balance is — three hundred eleven dollars and — sixty three cents.

LARRY cuts off the call, flips the phone closed, checks his watch, and makes his way back to the rear entrance of the bar.


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