Carnage Page #12

Because of the short wire, he has to stay close to the wall.

ALAN:

You should be put in a home, dear! I

can't believe this! I got everything

in there. It's brand new, I spent

hours setting it up!

MICHAEL speaks to NANCY, over the loud noise of the blow

dryer:

MICHAEL:

I can’t believe you did that. That

was an irresponsible thing to do.

ALAN:

I got everything, my whole life was

in there.

NANCY:

His whole life!

79.

She downs her glass of scotch. The noise continues.

MICHAEL:

Hang on, maybe we'll get it running

again.

ALAN:

No way. It's history!

MICHAEL:

I want to take out the battery and

the SIM card. How do you open it?

ALAN tries, but he has no idea.

ALAN:

I just got it, I don’t know.

MICHAEL:

Let me see.

ALAN:

And they think it's funny, they think

it's funny!

MICHAEL puts the blow dryer down without turning it off.

He hunkers down by the wall and easily opens the cell phone.

Then he lays out the various elements on the floor in a

line.

MICHAEL:

There.

He picks up the blow dryer and goes back to work. PENELOPE

laughs heartily.

MICHAEL (CONT’D)

Penelope, this is not funny!

PENELOPE:

My husband has spent the entire

afternoon drying things!

NANCY:

Ha, ha, ha!

NANCY goes right ahead and pours herself another glass of

scotch.

MICHAEL, who doesn't see any humor in it, is working very

dilligently. ALAN has slid down on to the ground next to

him, back to the wall.

The cell phone parts - battery, SIM card, cover, all tremble

in the warm breeze from the blow dryer. The lighter pieces

even move slightly.

80.

MICHAEL puts them back in order.

For a moment, the only sound is that of the blow-dryer.

ALAN is completely demoralized.

They look like a couple of sad-eyed children, only one of

whom is still trying to have fun.

ALAN:

Forget it, man. Forget it. Nothing

can be done.

MICHAEL finally turns off the blow-dryer.

MICHAEL:

Got to wait.

(after an awkward

silence:
)

You want to use the phone?

ALAN shakes his head no, shrugs to say he doesn't care.

MICHAEL (CONT'D)

I must say...

NANCY:

What must you say, Michael?

MICHAEL:

No. I don't even know what to say.

NANCY:

I’d say it feels better. It feels

better like this.

(beat)

I’d say it's more peaceful, wouldn’t

you? Men get so attached to their

toys. It diminishes them. They lose

their credibility. A man should have

both hands free... In my opinion.

Even briefcases. I liked this guy

once and then I saw him carrying this

rectangular bag, with a shoulder

strap. A man's bag, but with a

shoulder strap. It was over. A bag

with a shoulder strap, that's the

worst. But the cell phone always at

his fingertips is the worst, too. A

man should seem alone. In my opinion.

Seem like he can go it alone. I've

got a John Wayne idea of manhood,

too. What was it he had? A Colt '45.

Something that empties a room... Any

man that doesn't give off those loner

vibes just doesn't come off as having

any substance... So Michael I guess

you're happy now.

(MORE)

81.

NANCY (CONT'D)

Our touchy-feely - whatever you said -

is coming apart at the seams. But

hey, you know what? This almost feels

good. In my opinion.

MICHAEL:

Yeah, well in my opinion, some people

can hold their liquor better than

others.

NANCY:

I'm as normal as can be.

MICHAEL:

Yeah, right.

NANCY:

I'm beginning to see things with a

pleasant serenity.

PENELOPE:

Ha, ha! That's so good! A pleasant

serenity!

MICHAEL:

I can't understand why you're wasting

yourself, right out in the open,

darjeeling.

PENELOPE:

Shut the hell up.

MICHAEL gets up and takes a box of cigars from a corner

cabinet. He comes back and holds it out to ALAN.

MICHAEL:

Take one, Alan. Relax.

PENELOPE:

No cigar smoke in the house!

MICHAEL:

Hoyo de Monterrey, or Partagas D

number 4. You got your Hoyo

Coronation or Epicure number 2.

ALAN:

Where did you get these?

MICHAEL:

You don’t want to know.

ALAN:

Seriously.

MICHAEL:

The Spanish connection.

82.

Alan knits his brow.

MICHAEL (CONT’D)

My cookware guy. His best friend

is going with a flight attendant.

Brings in like two boxes a week.

PENELOPE:

You can't smoke in a house with an

asthmatic child! And stop telling himyour whole life story.

NANCY:

Who has asthma?

PENELOPE:

Our son.

MICHAEL:

We had a goddamn hamster, didn't we?

NANCY:

It's true that pets aren't good when

you're asthmatic.

MICHAEL:

Not good at all!

NANCY:

Even goldfish aren't necessarily

recommended.

PENELOPE:

Do I have to listen to this crap?

PENELOPE tears the cigar box away from MICHAEL and slams it

shut.

PENELOPE (CONT'D)

I'm sorry, I guess I'm the only one

who doesn't see things with pleasant

serenity. To tell you the truth, I've

never been so unhappy. I think this

is the unhappiest day of my whole

life.

MICHAEL:

You're an unhappy drunk.

PENELOPE:

Michael, every word out of your mouth

just slays me. I don't get drunk. I

had a sip of your shitty eighteen-

year old single malt... that you trot

out like it's the eighth wonder of

the world. I don't get drunk, and

believe me I wish I could.

(MORE)

83.

PENELOPE (CONT'D)

It would be such a relief to drown

every little sorrow in a good stiff

drink.

NANCY:

My husband is unhappy, too. Look at

him. All hunched over. Like he was

left on the side of the road. I think

this is the unhappiest day of his

life, too.

ALAN:

It is.

NANCY:

I'm sorry, Doodle.

MICHAEL hits the cell phone parts with the blow-dryer again.

PENELOPE:

Turn that blow-dryer off! His thing

is a goner.

The LONGSTREET family’s phone rings.

PENELOPE (CONT'D)

(re:
the phone)

Michael. Michael!

MICHAEL turns off the blow dryer, picks up the phone.

MICHAEL:

Yeah!

MICHAEL'S MOTHER (O.S. - TEL)

Mikey.

MICHAEL:

Mom, I told you we're busy here.

MICHAEL'S MOTHER (O.S. - TEL)

Why do you want me to stop taking

my Antril?

MICHAEL:

Because it's medication that can kill

you! It's poison!

MICHAEL'S MOTHER (O.S. - TEL)

It is not. It’s...

MICHAEL:

Here, there's someone here who can

explain.

He hands the phone to ALAN.

84.

MICHAEL (CONT’D)

Tell her.

ALAN:

Tell her what?

MICHAEL:

Tell her what you know about that

deadly sh*t of yours.

NANCY:

What can he tell her? He doesn't

know anything!

MICHAEL’S MOTHER

Mikey? Hello.

ALAN:

Hello? How are you feeling ma’am?

MICHAEL'S MOTHER (O.S. - TEL)

I’m all right for now but they

want to take me off my medicine.

ALAN:

Yes.

MICHAEL'S MOTHER (O.S. - TEL)

My operation is a week away.

ALAN:

And are you in pain?

MICHAEL'S MOTHER (O.S. - TEL)

I can’t be on my feet, Doctor.

ALAN:

Of course. But the operation will

fix that.

MICHAEL'S MOTHER (O.S. - TEL)

The worst part is, they have to do

the other leg later.

ALAN:

The other leg too, huh?

MICHAEL'S MOTHER (O.S. - TEL)

Are you an orthopedist?

ALAN:

No, I'm not an orthopedist.

(aside:
)

She keeps calling me doctor.

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