An Ordinary Man

---

1

[slow tempo music]

[man] I was always

inclined to be an ordinary man.

You're drowning them.

You know that?

By tomorrow,

beauty will become shite.

[groans] You should

give these away.

Where is your shame?

Eh? Veggie-killer.

Stand up.

Up.

- And a paper.

- Please.

A paper, and this

horribly drowned produce.

- You've gotta go.

- I'd like the paper, please.

Please, General, go quickly.

Take it. Please.

Go.

You thieving little sh*t!

[General]

Everyone needs a villain,

war criminal,

fugitive, most wanted.

Please, I have all labels.

[car tires squealing]

You dropped

my f***ing vegetables.

[man] Please get down.

And how do you

propose I do that?

Do I look like a circus midget?

- [tires squeal]

- [groans]

Jesus, would you?

We've discussed these

little walks, yeah?

Yeah, and now you see

why I take them.

We're far too compromised.

Then get me a real driver,

as I've asked for.

- General, I am a...

- You are a pilot, Miro.

You drive stick like a woman.

Where the hell's Gannich?

- Vacation with his family, sir.

- Now he could drive.

And no offense, but I'm a little

sick of your face at this point.

Yes, it's true,

that sod you suffocate me with,

matted hair like a dog's ass.

I tire of you.

I want to see other people.

[siren blaring]

By the way, I know where

you're headed.

I see where you're headed.

I've slept in nine beds

in six months,

and only one

in this direction.

And if they think

I'm spending one more night

in that hellhole Tanovich

calls home, guess again.

Those children are awful.

They're unhygienic,

they're undisciplined.

- You can tell everyone.

- We're moving again, General.

- What?

- We're on the move.

[trolley bell rings]

- Who's this, then?

- No one, sir.

You.

The owner is a friend.

He's found the space.

An apartment?

- Yeah.

- My own?

For six months,

possibly longer.

Thank God.

- He's happy to meet us.

- Give me the key.

- Sir...

- You're not dropping me off

at boarding school,

for Christ's sake.

Give me the key,

find it myself, thank you.

[sighs]

We'll provide you

with supplies.

- Supplies...

- You know, essentials.

And who will be

making these purchases?

There'll be no need

for you to...

Absolutely not.

You're a crap shopper, Miro.

Tell them to leave cash

at the door. Tell them.

Sir...

[ping pong ball bouncing]

[door opens]

[woman praying]

[clattering]

[violin music on radio]

[bed creaking]

[sighs]

[water running]

[ping pong ball bouncing]

[train squealing in distance]

[train squealing loudly]

[gasps]

[keys jingling]

[door unlocks]

Yes?

- Mrs. Boscovich?

- Apparently not.

- No.

- No.

She was expecting you?

And that's why you let

yourself into my apartment?

And you are?

- Tanja.

- Tanja.

- The maid.

- Ah.

Well, it appears Mrs. Boscovich

has broken her lease,

unexpectedly,

without telling the maid.

Your bag, please.

And now your clothes.

I don't like surprises.

Please.

Turn around, please.

Slowly.

No tattoos at your age.

How dull.

Where are your passions?

Unless you've chosen to cover

them up for some reason.

If you'd be kind enough

to step into the shower

and rinse thoroughly.

No worries,

I won't be joining you.

[shower starts]

How's the plumbing?

[shower stops]

I trust you know

where the towels are.

How much does she pay you?

Good Mrs. Boscovich?

How much did she pay you?

Five hundred... an hour.

I'll pay you more.

What are your skills?

What were your chores?

Cleaning and washing.

Show me your hands.

How old are you?

Twenty-six.

Your parents put

these hands to work?

My parents are dead.

You come how often?

For Mrs. Boscovich.

- Once each week, Tuesdays.

- Oh, I'll need you more.

You have others...

others you see?

Yes.

No more.

You work for me now.

I'll need you full-time,

as you can see.

A man needs a maid.

I... thank you, sir...

General...

but I think I should go.

But that won't be

possible now, will it?

You do have my key,

after all, don't you?

So I am yours...

and you'll be mine.

My little secret.

Show me your skills.

Where do you start?

Kitchen, bath, bedroom?

Windows, the windows.

Windows, excellent.

Let's begin.

May I get dressed?

Your hand is shaking.

Do I make you nervous?

Well, you've completely

missed the corners.

I trust you'll return for

those when it suits you.

Hardly very efficient,

are you?

With three minutes a pane, at

this rate, you'll be here all...

I'm sorry, I'm not

used to being timed.

At 500 dinars an hour,

you damn well should be.

Took that poor woman for

all she's worth, didn't you?

- Didn't you?

- She had no complaints.

But whose fault's that, then?

She lacked leadership.

My men always take to constructive

criticism, and they shine.

So, what other skills, then,

besides fogging windows?

- You cook?

- Cook?

Yes, cook,

prepare meals, sustenance.

- No, I don't cook.

- At your age?

- I was never taught.

- Criminal.

- I trust you eat?

- Yes, I eat.

Good.

For me, you'll cook.

First, we shop.

[horn honks]

I'm sorry,

do you need to pee?

I beg your pardon?

Slow down, you're nervous.

Shouldn't you be?

Because I'm walking in the open?

Join the chorus.

You've nothing to fear,

you see.

I'm not really here.

At this very moment, I'm hidden

in a mountain barracks,

I'm skiing

in northern Slovenia,

I'm sunning myself

on the Dalmatian Coast,

I'm tending sheep on

a Serbian mountaintop,

I'm toasting with Putin

in Kiev and in Moscow,

friend of a friend

swears he saw me.

I'm everywhere and nowhere.

I am myth.

Three times they've offered

me plastic surgery.

Three times, begged me to

change my face, this face.

Now, that would be a crime.

They know they'll never

catch me, all of them.

They're just guests

in our house.

This is our house.

And my friends who waste

their hours watching over me

like nervous hens,

they're not so trusting.

They're here now, you know.

Yugo, two blocks back,

no front plates?

Black Mini, ahead, at 2:00.

They must be dying.

How did he manage so quickly?

And such an attractive

young thing, eh?

Come, I'll show ya.

Run!

[laughs]

[tires screeching]

[engine revving]

Ha!

[tires squealing]

[horns honking]

[laughing] I'm sorry,

that never gets old.

First lesson.

Royals, always,

and no f***ing filters.

- You're still smoking?

- Oh, so you do know something of me.

How about that, then?

A heart that's too large.

The joke's on them.

Smoke? God, yes. Old Solovek, finest

officer in our military history.

Only cigarettes could kill that

man, nothing else. Get a paper.

Phew.

Please, for my son.

Of course.

Thank you.

This color, this shape.

For this we fight wars.

Gorgeous vegetable,

raped by the Turks,

boiling away every last

vestige of nature's goodness.

They slaughter their cuisine,

you know that?

Read.

Bottom third, on the right.

Don't think, read.

Um...

Read the words.

I'm damn well dyslexic, so

if you don't want to sit here

all night while I flail,

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes