I thank the kind folks who bought books on Bay Parkway today.
Here's another excerpt from a romantic comedy screenplay I wrote in the early '90's. In the scene a magazine writer, Kate, and a gold futures trader, Joe, meet for the first time. The story is inspired by Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew, Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice and the films of Tracy and Hepburn. It may seem long but it's mostly dialogue and often one word per character. Those who did not work on the Comex trading floor will wonder if such things happened. They did. The title is A Truth Universally Acknowledged, the opening line of Austen's masterwork.
Part Three: The next afternoon. The trading floor. Dawn, an employee of the
Exchange, escorts Kate and a photographer, Russ, onto the floor.
Kate:
I'd really like it to be a self-made man, not someone who inherited his position.
They pause. Dawn gazes about, spots Joe leaning against his booth, newspaper in
hand. She smiles.
Dawn:
I have the perfect guy for you. He's a real gentleman.
She leads her to Joe, who smiles and lowers the paper.
Joe:
Hey, Dawny, what's up?
Dawn:
Joe, this's Kate Austen, a magazine writer. She's doing an article about traders. Would you mind talking to her?
Joe:
Not at all. My pleasure. Nice to meet you.
He extends his hand to Kate. They shake. Joe is intrigued. Kate is too focused to be
thinking of physical attraction.
Dawn:
I'll leave you two. Call me if you need anything, Miss Austen.
Kate does not respond. Dawn exits smirking.
Dawn:
You're welcome.
Russ snaps a picture of Joe.
Kate:
This's Russ Simon, ambulance chaser, paparazzi wannabe.
Russ smirks.
Joe:
Sounds like my kinda guy.
Kate:
I'll bet.
Joe offers his hand. Russ ignores it, snaps another shot.
Kate:
First some background ....
The Gold pit. Others have noticed the attractive visitor. Sol cranes his neck.
Sol:
Is Woooy there?
A large man, Barney, wearing a purple jacket (hence the knickname after the dinosaur),
raises onto his toes.
Barney:
Gotta be. It's Joey.
Several clerks call out: "Joe-ay!" "Joe-ay!" Joe, intent on Kate, is oblivious. Kate,
intent on her work, likewise.
Kate:
Where'd you go to college?
Joe flushes self consciously.
Joe:
I didn't go to college. I have a GED. I got kicked atta high school. I was a real jerk back then.
Kate, sotto voce:
As opposed to now?
Joe's face does blank. Kate makes a note in her pad as if nothing has passed between
them. It reads: "GED."
Joe:
A lotta these guys didn't go to college. They worked their way up. If you'd rather talk
to a college guy I'd be glad to introduce you. One of our guys went to Brown.
Suddenly Kate shivers.
Kate:
Why is it so cold in here?
Joe:
To keep us all awake. Here, put this over, your shoulders.
He reaches for his trading jacket, which lays folded neatly in the booth. Kate evades it.
Kate:
Ugh! Polyester.
Joe looks at his brother. Their blank stares relate volumes. Kate does not even notice.
Russ ridicules her behind her back.
The phone rings. Bob answers, looks at Joe.
Bob:
Guido. He wants to know what you think.
Joe:
There's resistance.
Bob speaks into the phone and hangs up. Kate makes a note in her pad: "Guido."
Kate:
Why is it so quiet today?
Joe:
Gold's not what it useta be. Low inflation, low interest rates - there's nothin' to move
the market on a consistent basis, so there's not much demand.
Kate:
So the hope of every gold trader is high inflation and high interest rates?
Joe looks at Bob, who, irked, walks away
Joe:
Those things're beyond our control. We just react to 'em. You can still make a decent
livin' here, but you won't get rich. If you want action you should go over to oil. You'll
get all you went there.
Kate:
Do you have something to hide?
Joe chuckles, beside himself. Russ is still shooting. Kate, losing patience, swats him
with her pad.
Kate:
That's enough. Get some shots of the pit.
Russ walks away, giving her a dirty look.
Russ:
Witch.
Kate:
I can't believe I .... What was I thinking?
Joe's eyebrows arch briefly, as he understands the implication.
Joe:
I been askin' myself that a lot lately, too.
Kate looks away, regretting having thought aloud.
Joe:
You know, Miss, I know reporters're supposed to be tough,
but I get the feelin' you already got your mind made up about us.
Kate:
You're wrong.
Russ is shooting the sparse activity in the gold pit. Clerks mug for the camera. Across the ring, Sol notices, points at him.
Sol:
Look - it's Dennis Hopper in "Apocalypse Now.'
Russ gives a thumbs up, smiles, snaps a picture of Sol, who motions him to approach.
Clerks begin alerting one another with nods and jerks of the head, as if something
outrageous is about to occur. Others titter in anticipation. Someone shouts out: "Make
'im suck it, Solly."
Sol:
Who do you work for?
Russ:
"Ballbuster Magazine."
Sol throws his head back and laughs.
Sol:
My wife's favorite.
A cry of "Sol-ly!" "Sol-ly!" goes up. Barney steps into the line of sight between Kate
and Russ, pulling a broker toward him from each side.
Barney:
Better be careful. She looks like a lawsuit waitin' to happen.
Others continue to egg Sol on. Everyone is watching in anticipation. Sol, who is
standing on the top step of the pit, towering above Russ, who is standing just outside of it, puts a hand on Russ' shoulder and bends toward his ear.
Sol:
How's the referee start the football game?
Russ:
What'?
Sol:
How's the referee start the football game?
Russ stares, puzzled. Sol seizes him by the scruff of the neck.
Sol:
He blows the whistle?
He proceeds to yank Russ' head toward his crotch several times in succession. (This
should be shot from a distance so as not to overly offend the elderly and the folks in
(Peoria). Russ is helpless under the powerful grasp. The area erupts in laughter. Sol
relents and Russ storms away, fuming.
Kate hears the commotion, looks toward the pit. Joe represses laughter, sensing what
has occurred. Russ approaches the booth, muttering.
Russ:
Did you see that?
Kate:
What happened?
Russ thinks better of exposing his humiliation to her.
Russ:
Never mind.
Kate looks at Joe.
Kate:
What was that all about?
Joe feigns ignorance.
Kate:
His arrogance probably got him into trouble again. He's such a jerk. Anyway, where were we?
Joe:
You were askin' me if I steal from little ol' ladies.
Kate does not laugh.
In Sol's booth a clerk is filling a paper plate with shaving cream.
Sol:
This's beautiful. He's so wrapped up tryin' to impress that chick he'll never see it
comin'.
Back to Kate and Joe.
Kate:
So basically you count on your customers' ignorance?
Joe stares at her a moment.
Joe:
Some do make money.
Kate:
Some?
Joe:
There's risk involved. They all know that, or they're livin' in some dream world.
Anybody lookin' to score's gotta take risks. That's life. If you want a guarantee you
should put your money in a bank.
Kate:
Many say traders are sleezeballs.
Joe:
Are you one of 'em?
Kate:
My opinion is irrelevant. Joe looks away.
Joe:
Yeah, I believe that. You got big ones, Miss, I'll give you that.
Kate:
I take that as a "yes," then.
Joe:
Is it gonna make a difference? Look, a lotta great people work down here, no matter
what you might think.
Nearby, Sol lurks, pie in hand. He pauses, hiding in the next booth, then springs toward Joe.
Sol:
Happy birthday, jerky boy.
Sol stumbles, giving Joe a chance to duck. Sol misses his target and puts the pie in
Kate's face. Everyone but Russ freezes as she stands there with the paper plate stuck to
her face. The only sound is the clicking of the camera. Kate brushes the shaving cream
out of her eyes with her fingers and creates a funny face that sets people roaring. Joe
grabs the polyester jacket and wipes her down. Kate pushes him away.
Kate:
Get away from me!
Suddenly a pie comes from a different direction and slams Joe right in the puss. He is
blinded by the soap. People break into "Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you,
happy birthday, dear Jerky, happy birthday to you." He laughs, still blinded.
Kate and Fuss storm through the center aisle.
Russ:
Stick it to these morons. Hit 'em where it hurts, tar 'n feather 'em, boil 'em in oil.
Kate is so irate she is unable to articulate her feelings. She is stared and laughed at by
everyone she passes.
Read Vic's stories, free: http://members.tripod.com/vic_fortezza/Literature
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