Thread: The Gun

Act 1, Scene 1

{Curtain. The setting is the bottom of some huge ravine with walls that are impossible to climb. An armoured Securitas Van lies crashed by the river that runs through. Far above on either side of the ravine, two busy motorways run.}

Voice: The sun falls low at nine o’clock in Southern Spain, and parallel to its descent four madness gangsters dropped today. Holidaying culture streets have sung their last hurrah and now, bruised with dust they face this hurtful, arid rock like tears dropped from the eyes of civilization. God help them.

{The back doors of the van are slammed open and slowly three men climb out. Self, the
first out, cracks his back and walks to the ravine wall. Leaning against it he pats around
for a cigarette. Finding one he starts to light but hesitates seeing Cassius head trying to
escape the van.}

Self: Scramble man, scramble! Remove your tottering head from that blackened van and squat by me. War must be discussed!

{Cassius manages out of the van but leans back in to help the struggling Gaunt, eventually
prising him out. Gaunt totters halfway to the wall, standing in between Self and Cassius. Cassius
is still rummaging around in the van, searching for something.}

Self: Gaunt, you’re swollen! De-shevel yourself!

Gaunt: I would could my swollen eyes bear the clouds of dust that billow forth.
Who speaks? To me you are faceless in this sandy hole.

Self: Know you not the voice of your brother? Remember summer strolls and
the stones we skipped? The trains that cascaded past our rosy noses? Or
have you cast your childhood aside?

Gaunt: Ah, Self my friend it’s you! What you speak is not a lie, for my memory is being sanded away with time. I do remember though, my father’s hand for it led me like a people’s duke through all the carnivals and playing fields. I knew every running vein on that hand, every craggy muscle tanned with sweat. I remember him bleeding from his salty pores and…

Cassius: Hush you dreamers! Gather help! Forget nostalgic hands of the past and lend your own! I can’t lift fainted driver Johnny. More bruised was he than us by that colossal fall so clamour round and heave this carcass cargo!

{Gaunt rushes to Cassius and Self crushes his cigarette out with his heel before coming
over. Cassius and Gaunt reach in to remove the body. Self peers in.}

Self: {holding them back} Gentlemen, seize you sweat! Cassius my friend, your eyes have lied to you. Driver Johnny rests not in gentle sleep. He has fallen through the sieve of life.

Cassius: Self, you undermine me! My eyes are truer than the flight of a bullet and have never lied before. What faint mysteries do you speak of? Think you driver Johnny dead?

Self: See you not his swollen lips and hanging skin? That gruesome tongue rearing forth dictates the tale!

{Cassius and Gaunt both look closer only to reel back in horror.}

Gaunt: My god. He has slipped from us.

Cassius: {After a pause} Prise loose our limp companion, he has earned his rites!

{Gaunt bends to do so but is halted by Self.}

Self: Brash Cassius I deplore you! Reduce your temper and employ your senses! Why move the body now to fester here among the flies and the dust? Within minutes we too would fall in gruesome stupor as the sun melts his skin to some putrid nose-itch! Allow it to rest inside, hidden from harsh nature’s toll. No element can penetrate the perfect armour of that machine.

{Cassius stops and finally nods his head.}

Cassius: Gaunt, calm your bustling. Self speaks with sense. And besides, our situation must be discussed.

Gaunt: What’s to be discussed? We’re fucked.

Self: What’s this? Gaunt speaking with conviction? What proud devil has caught you tongue?

Cassius: Self you serpent, shut the fuck up! Gaunt speaks with dignity and as far as I can see with total justice! {He walks up to the side of the cliff}. Not even the nimblest of monkeys could shimmy such a tortured face.

Self: Cassius, your notion of whining depresses rather than leather’s me. Now Gaunt, rattle to the van and rip open one of the money sacks. We can use that as an awning, for we won’t last long in such relentless heat.

Cassius: I’ll fetch a bottle and fill from the river pouring forth. This itchy thirst won’t go unquenched.
Self: And so like rats do scurry. Set industries cogs to grind for the swelterball is dropping fast. Soon, behind God’s eyelids we will be locked and then the devil’s candlefingers may pick at us as they wish, for tonight at least, we are stuck on this narrow spit of sand where Satan may well be scratching. Action!

END OF SCENE 1

Uh. Leonard. To me, this reads very strange. I don't understand what it's about and I don't understand why your characters are speaking as if they're imitating shakespeare.

So, uh, maybe you could fill me in and I can give you more focused notes than those?

I think somebody is having a little fun with us here.

I read one line and quit. Big fun. It reads like someone plugged in some foreign language into one of those babel fish translation thingys and it spit that out.

It is kind of funny though.

I really don't think anyone is here to make fun of us.

I love this. The dialogue is wonderful. It is odd, but fantastic. It may require a little concentration to read on the page but just imagine it spoken! I'm a young actor and this script would simply be a gift to perform.

I think it's great; wittily written and striking a good balance between the faux-shakesperean and the modern.

Robbery/heist things always come with their own dialogue. A kind of Tarantino/Elmore Leonard/Raymond Chandler is almost expected of you. This is so different it's fascinating.

I don't know wether your average audience would be able to put up with the heavy/rich language for the length of a full play so perhaps, as your script goes along, begin to lighten up a little, bring in a bit more modern speech. You'd probably be cool with it just as it is for a short play or even a one-acter though.

This is really, really original. Please write some more; I'd love to see where this is going!