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 Category:  General Script
  Posted: June 12, 2019      Views: 44

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a video script
"Naked Shingles of the World" by LIJ Red


The characters: Jared, a 24-year-old USN sailor
Pete, a 22-year-old USN sailor
Dunc, a 20-year-old USN sailor

Fade in to a narrow gravel road running through tundra, paralleling a rocky coastline. The right half of the background is a sea, with rolling breakers roaring on the boulders of the beach. In middle distance to the left, a high promontory juts into the ocean, ending in a cliff. It is green with tundra. The wind screams with changing notes on the rocks, and the thunder of the surf never stops. A slim young man in bell-bottom dungarees and blue chambray shirt over a dark blue jersey strolls down the road toward the water. He stops a few yards from the surf, steps up onto a shelf-like boulder, and stares out to sea. A rugged island, with a snow-capped cone streaming a ribbon of dark smoke, holds the camera for a moment.
He takes a letter-sized sheet of pale rose paper from his hip pocket and unfolds it. It flutters in the wind as he holds and studies it.

Female voice, off screen.
I rather hope the sea otters and bald eagles are eating your bowels bite by bite, you bastard, you. I am stopping your allotment. Spend it on liquor and die. I left all your shit with your old slut of a mother, I do not want anything your foul hands have touched. Not after they caressed and groped and fondled that lard-white Tarheel bitch, the poor old cornuto sergeant's spread-legged whore. My lawyer will be in touch. I hope they extend your tour on that lovely island for a thousand years. KISS MY ASS YOU SON OF A BITCH.
No Love whatever,
Miss Joy Helms.

He lets the hand holding the letter drop, and looks out to sea. The short hair under his Navy ball cap riffles in the gale. Two more sailors, dressed the same, appear on the road, walking fast, leaning into the wind. They make their way to the man on the rock.
First sailor, Pete
Jared, you missed mail call. Heck of a day to hit the beach. AFRTS say seventy knot winds.
Second sailor, Dunc
You got a certified letter. Which means diddly after the Navy signs for it, but we brought it to you, anyway.
Through this wind? You guys must really be bored.
The look on your face as you read that last letter would make anybody's butt chop wood. Here, read this one.
Just my ex wanting to ream me out some more for smooching the lifer's wife in Pensacola.
Read. Now. Then we'll head back to the Ptarmigan Club and get good and drunk.

Jared slits the end of the envelope with his finger, and slides out a single folded sheet of pale rose paper. He unfolds and reads it.
Female voice, off screen
I found a room over Myrtle's Flower Shop and moved out of my parent's house. I wrote you the nastiest letter I could imagine, venting. I let it all out and then I forgave you. Now I cannot find that letter. If I know my mom, she signed it and mailed it. You swore you loved me. Well, here's your chance to prove it. Burn that letter and answer this one.
highly pissed but loving you
your wife, Joy
That's better. Damn, watch the lines come out of that ugly face.
Can we go to the Club, now?
putting both letters into his dungaree pocket
Get us a table and set 'em up, I gotta swing by Dorm G and scratch off a postcard, but it will just take a minute.

Camera pans Adak's coast, promontory, Bering sea, and Great Sitkin volcano, and fades to black.


Author Notes
The tide of faith retreating to the night wind down the vast edges drear and naked shingles of the world was borrowed from Dover Beach by Matthew Arnold.
Pays one point and 2 member cents.

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