Situation 19

[Content warning. A naughty clown and some swearing]

EXT. AERIAL SHOT: CEMETERY – NIGHT

Dense fog rolls through a decrepit cemetery, the tombstones

jutting from the earth like rotten teeth. An owl hoots in the

distance, but otherwise an otherworldly silence envelops the graveyard.

EXT. CEMETERY – NIGHT

A large black raven perches on a grey tombstone, the full moon

rising behind him. Below his grimy claws, the inscription:

Johann Herz

1966 - 2021

Son of a bitch

The TINKLING of old-timey player piano, faintly at first,

then louder. It's playing Julius Fucik's Entry of the Gladiators

(the music played at the circus).

The raven shakes his feathers, CAWS once, then takes flight.

A CLOWN cartwheels across the graves, laughing manically

as the music reaches a frenzied crescendo. (bump-bump-bump

dadda-dadda, bump-bump-bump dadda dadda)

A DWARF dressed as a cowboy rides in on a large rat. He plucks

a black ten-gallon hat off his head with one hand.

DWARF

Yippey Ki Yay!

----

Jon Hart looks up from the script to the right side of the set, toward the dwarf who’s sitting on a Saint Bernard dressed as a rodent. He waves energetically at him, gesturing that he should enter the scene, but the dwarf doesn’t move.

“Cut!” Jon yells. “Stop the fog,” he says to the man handling the dry ice. “Beckham, you missed your cue. Again.”

Beck hops off the dog and walks toward the director.

“What’s the problem this time?” Jon asks.

“It just doesn’t seem…realistic,” Beck says, tossing the cowboy hat onto a black canvas chair emblazoned with Director in white letters.

“It’s a fuckin’ dream, Beck. It’s not meant to be realistic.”

“Why do all dream scenes have to have dry ice and dwarves? I mean, how many people actually dream about dwarves?”

Jon sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose, under his black-rimmed glasses. “Beck, we’ve been over this, that’s the way it’s written. Johann is having a nightmare about being dead—”

“Yeah, yeah. I get that. But why is there a clown and a dwarf? It’s OTT, don’t you think?”

“Johann fears that everyone sees him as a fake, an unserious person. So, when you shoot Colin," he says, gesturing toward the clown, "pull off his mask, and reveal Johann’s face underneath—”

“Johann’s fears are realised.”

“Yes,” Jon says, “exactly.” 

“Okay,” Beck says, placing the hat on his head and walking back to the dog.

“And, action!”

Beck rides the rat/dog across the set, stopping at Johann's grave. Colin enters the scene, juggling plastic frogs. Beck hops off the dog and swaggers, wide-legged toward him.

“Evenin’ Pilgrim,” Beck says, tipping his hat toward the clown, before resting his right hand on the holster at his hip, “This cemetery ain’t big enough for the both of—”

“Cut!” Jon shouts. “What are you doing?”

“Improvising,” Beck says, snatching the gun from his holster and spinning it round his finger, before gripping the handle and pointing it at Colin. “There’ll be guns a-blazing and singing with lead, tonight you’ll be drinking your drink with the dead.”

“You’re lower than a toad, Joad,” Colin says flinging a frog at the cowboy’s head while keeping the rest spinning in the air. Beck dodges, but the projectile knocks his hat to the ground.

“You ruined a perfectly good hat,” Beck says, eyes narrowing. “Pow, Pow!” he says, pulling the trigger.

“Ooff. Ahh. Gah,” Colin grips his chest and falls to his knees, as the remaining frogs rain down around him.

“Stop, just stop it!” Jon bellows, slicing his hands through the air like an umpire calling safe at home base. He looks from Beck, who’s blowing imaginary smoke from the muzzle of the pistol, to Colin who’s writhing on the ground, squishing the frogs beneath his polka dot jumpsuit and mumbling 'oh, the humanity.'

“This is not improv night at the comedy club! Okay? Just follow the damn script.”

Beck shrugs. Colin stands up and brushes himself off.

“Places……and…Action!”

---

EXT. CEMETERY – NIGHT

A CLOWN cartwheels across the graves, laughing manically

as the music reaches a frenzied crescendo. (bump-bump-bump

dadda-dadda, bump-bump-bump dadda dadda)

A DWARF dressed as a cowboy rides in on a large rat. He plucks

a black ten-gallon hat off his head with one hand.

DWARF

"Yippey Ki Yay!"

The clown stops cartwheeling and pulls frogs from his voluminous

pockets, which he then begins to juggle with.

CLOWN

“Ah ha, my little friend. The puzzle pieces

leap. The grim reaper reaps. What lies

beneath?”

The dwarf lights a cigar, scratching a wooden match against

the top of Johann's tombstone, before taking a deep puff and

blowing smoke that mixes with the fog.

DWARF

“I’ve seen this all before. We may be ridin’

different horses, but we’re goin' round the

same circle.”

The JANGLING of merry-go-round music.

DWARF (CONT'D)

“We think we’re in a rat race.”

The dwarf climbs down from the rat/dog and removes the rat

mask, revealing the dog underneath.

DWARF (CONT'D)

“But we’re living in the dog house.”

CLOWN

“Dog or rat it matters not. We are all

puppets. Pull my string and see.

Hee hee hee.”

----

Colin makes a fist and then releases his index finger, pointing it toward Beck.

“No, no, no,” Jon mutters, ripping off his headphones and throwing them aside.

Colin farts loudly as Beck pulls his finger. The dog barks a few times, drool dripping onto Colin's large clown shoes.

“Cut!” Jon screams, his face reddening. “You are making a mockery of this production,” he gasps, his hand clawing at the neck of his shirt, trying to loosen it.

“That's the problem with directors these days. So uptight.” Beck and Colin say in unison as they link arms, Colin bending over to reach Beck's shorter arm. They begin stomping around in a rough circle clockwise then switch arms and continue counterclockwise. A fiddle starts to play in the background.

“Never work with animals or kids,” says Beck, “you have been told.”

“Or actors with poor impulse control,” cackles Colin.

Jon stumbles awkwardly toward them, his right arm clasping his left. He falls to his knees, gasping, unable to speak.

Beck and Colin stop square dancing and approach the Saint Bernard. They unzip the dog costume, starting at the tail and working toward the head, slowly revealing a man underneath. The last thing Jon sees, before his heart ceases to beat, is his own face smiling back at him.

---

INT. JON'S BEDROOM - DAY

The rising sun peeks through the partially-drawn

blue curtains, throwing streaks of sunlight onto

the bedspread draped over Jon.

A bedside clock ticks to 7:15, launching a melodic

alarm...bump-bump-bump dadda-dadda,

bump-bump-bump dadda dadda.