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Registered: ‎01-27-2007
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crAZRick, Dialogue-- Writing Exercise

This is a fictionalized version of an actual conversation; some liberties have been taken in this reconstruction:

“How could you do that? What were you thinking?” she said. “What could have possibly been going through your head when you made the call?”

“I wasn’t thinking, I guess. I don’t know.” he replied.

“She doesn’t love you, you know. She can’t even stand to look at you any more. That’s why I’m here, to do the talking for her. That’s what Real Friends do, look out for each other, help each other. Not get our kicks out of stabbing each other in the back.”

“Get our kicks how, then, exactly?” he sassed. “Go on, do the talking for her. Confess her sins for her… Go on!”

“You’re a real ass.” She answered.

“Exactly.” He sighed. “Get the hell out of my home.”

“I’m her guest, not yours.” She said. “You didn’t invite me here, she did. You have no right telling me what to do! No more than you have any right to call the probation officer on your own girlfriend to report that she might be using again!

Who the Hell do you think you are? You aint **bleep**! Not to her, not to me, and certainly not to her daughter, you creep!”

“You want to talk about who should be involved in this and who should stay out of it?” he started,
“It’s none of your business either. And keep the child out of it, or you won’t like where it leads…”

“Oh, really?” she sassed back at him. “That sounds like a threat. Maybe I should be on the phone right now myself! If you’re going to say you started all this for Kaleigh’s sake, you can just save it! From what I hear, you spend more time playing poker than you ever spend taking care of or looking after the child living under your roof…”

“You don’t know Anything then.” He replied. “At most, you only know half of it. So, you really have no grounds to make any judgments in this matter…”

“Really? Is that what you think?” she asked. He nodded.

“Not when the same sort of pipe was found in the same place under your bathroom sink, by the same 6-year old little girl who knew exactly where to find the one she brought and showed to me, when I asked her about it!”

“You son-of-a-bitch…” she sputtered, standing and slinking away, toward the front door. “I.. I don’t… **bleep**!”

“Have a great night…” he scowled, locking the door behind her as she left.

And this is the screenplay version of similar conversation:


A man and a woman lie together in the dark.

I want you out.

I am out! Remember, 15 minutes of foreplay and fumbling about, 4 minutes of absolute bliss? And now, we sleep.

Man slinks in closer to the woman, the woman sits up and shoves him back.

I mean it, Rick. I want you to go!

What was this then, Katrina? We made up here tonight! Made-up, made-out, made-love. Foreplay? Bliss? Ring a bell?

Letting you **bleep** me doesn't change the fact that you **bleep**ed me, Rick!

Isn't that a paradox or something?

Look, listen. I love the way it feels when you're inside me, but you never should have even threatened to call my PO! That **bleep**’s really personal, you know! It’s just wrong!

So, '**bleep**ing you' isn't so personal as, say, '**bleep**ing you'... Can't we call it 'making love' and 'saving your life' instead?

Katrina kicks Rick completely out of bed. Rick sits up on the floor.

You're a real ass.

Exactly. But, it really was with the best of intentions when I made that call. It really was about saving the life of the woman I love versus saving a friendship with a fellow-addict or supplier, like Amy and the two no-neck thugs from your goon squad you brought home with you...

To prove a point, Rick. That was the only reason they were here.

What point? That you still have thugs like that on the payroll, just a phone call away? Did you see Amy's eyes? She was as high as a kite! And she's a single-mother too!

Katrina nods, looks away.

I know, but...

Did you get high with her tonight? Is that what started this Revenge Kick? I swear, if you tell me you got high, with your daughter in the next room again...

We were at Amy's place, with her kids all night! Kaleigh was with my Mom! She was safe! Amy and the kids--

I don't give a damn about that tweak and her kids! I Love You! And Kaleigh! That's all I care about!

What about your Poker career? What about your Writing?

Distant Second and Third... What about You? Where does the life of your six-year old daughter rank on your list of priorities?

**bleep** You! And get the Hell out of my home! Our Home! Mine and Kaleigh's Home!

Rick stands, crosses into the bathroom. A few seconds later, he returns, a small pink box in-hand. He opens the tampon box and dumps a glass pipe onto the bed.

You son-of-a-bitch...

Have a great Life...

Rick scoops up his clothes from the floor and exits the bedroom. Katrina cries.

In the screenplay version, I took out the middleman, made it a confrontation between the two characters directly. It’s more personal, more dramatic that way, though I suppose there is dramatic tension interwoven into both scenes, maybe? Plus, moviegoers tend to like bedroom-action scenes moreso than the conversation-on-a-couch scenes, hence the change in setting. I think the essence of the characters and the situation shines through in both formats.

What say you?
I no longer regret that I have no quote, quip or anecdote to share with my countrymen... how about all y'all?
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