Meet Joe Black Page #6

INT. LIBRARY, PARRISH TOWNHOUSE - NIGHT

A beautiful, classic room, areas of dim, warm light, club

chairs, books reaching to the ceiling, a rolling library

ladder, a weathered dictionary on a stand, a model boat

carved of bone set into the stacks which are separated from

the reading area by a seven-foot high partition of obscured

glass.

Parrish, poised in the doorway, looks around, nothing in

sight.

PARRISH:

Hello?

Silence.

PARRISH (cont'd)

Anyone here?

No response.

PARRISH (cont'd)

I said is anyone here?!

VOICE (V.O.)

Quiet down.

Parrish is startled, he shrinks backward for a moment, his

eyes searching the room for the Voice, the timbre and pitch

of which is exactly what he has heard before. There is the

sense that someone is there but Parrish cannot see him, and

he does not dare look.

PARRISH:

(quietly)

Where are you?

VOICE (V.O.)

I'm here.

Now a flicker of a shadow from behind a corner of the obscured

glass, the section of the room most distant from Parrish,

there is a shape. Something is there.

PARRISH:

What is this, a joke, right? Some

kind of elaborate practical joke?

At my 40th reunion, we delivered a

casket to the Class president's

hotel room and --

VOICE:

Quiet.

Parrish falls silent, something in the SOUND and TONE of the

Voice muting him. He takes a step backwards.

VOICE (cont'd)

Where are you going?

PARRISH:

I - I - uh --

The shape moves, makes itself more visible. Although still

diffused by the glass, the shape has definition, a person, a

man, his features are not yet distinguishable, but he is

there all right.

VOICE:

The great Bill Parrish at a loss for

words? The man from whose lips fall

'rapture' and 'passion' and 'obses-

sion'...all those admonitions about

being 'deliberately happy', what

there is no sense 'living your life

without...', all the sparks and

energy you give off, the rosy advice

you dispense in round, pear-shaped

tones --

PARRISH:

What the hell is this? Who are you?

VOICE:

Just think of millenniums multiplied

by aeons compounded by infinity,

I've been around that long, but it's

only recently that your affairs here

have piqued my interest. Call it

boredom, the natural curiosity of

me, the most lasting and significant

element in existence has come to see

you.

Parrish struggles to make sense of what he is hearing.

PARRISH:

About what?

VOICE:

I want to have a look around before

I take you.

PARRISH:

'Take me'...? Where?

VOICE:

It requires competence, wisdom,

experience -- all those things they

say about you in testimonials --

and you're the one.

PARRISH:

'The one' to do what?

VOICE:

Show me around. Be my guide. And

in return, you get...

PARRISH:

(breathless)

Get what?

VOICE:

Time.

PARRISH:

What the hell are you talking about?

VOICE:

Watch it!

PARRISH:

I'm sorry --

VOICE:

In return you'll receive minuets, days,

weeks, I'm not going to go into details

... what matters is that I stay

interested.

Parrish squints, trying to make sense of what is happening.

VOICE (cont'd)

...'Yes'.

PARRISH:

Yes what?

VOICE:

'Yes' is the answer to your ques-

tion.

PARRISH:

What question?

VOICE:

Bill. Come on. The question. The

question you've been asking yourself

with increased regularity, at odd

moments, panting through the extra

game of handball, when you ran for

the plane in Delhi, when you sat up

in bed last night and hit the floor

in the office this morning. The

question that is in the back of your

throat, choking the blood to your

brain, ringing in the ears over and

over as you put it to yourself --

PARRISH:

The 'question' --

VOICE:

(urging)

Yes, Bill. The question.

After a moment.

PARRISH:

...Am I going to die?

The figure who is the Voice takes a step forward now, no

longer obscured by the glass he comes into the light, re-

vealing himself to be the Young Man seen previously in the

coffee shop, but there is a change; he seems odd, off-

center, not handsome but terrifyingly beautiful.

YOUNG MAN:

Yes.

A moment, Parrish beside himself. He cannot bring himself

to speak, finally:

PARRISH:

Am I dreaming this?

(Another moment)

Are you a dream?

YOUNG MAN:

I am not a dream.

PARRISH:

You're coming to 'take me'. What is

that? Who the hell are you?

The Young Man steps closer to Parrish, his face is inches

from a shaking, sweating Parrish's face, the Young Man

daring Parrish to identify him:

PARRISH:

You are --?

YOUNG MAN:

(urging again)

'...Yes --'

Parrish turns away. But the Young Man, spectacularly, is in

front of him again.

YOUNG MAN (cont'd)

(gently)

Who am I?

PARRISH:

...Death.

Parrish is shocked, stunned, terrified at the word, by what

he has comprehended. He surveys the Young Man who, at this

moment, actually seems bewildered by his effect.

PARRISH (cont'd)

You're Death?

YOUNG MAN:

Yes.

PARRISH:

Death!

YOUNG MAN:

That's me.

PARRISH:

You're not Death. You're just a kid

in a jacket and a pair of pants.

YOUNG MAN:

The jacket and the pair of pants

came with the body I took. Let me

ask your opinion. Do I blend in?

A hopelessly confused Parrish does not respond for a moment.

PARRISH:

You want me to be your guide --?

YOUNG MAN:

You fill the bill, Bill.

PARRISH:

I do?

(a moment)

How long will you be staying?

YOUNG MAN:

You should hope quite a while.

PARRISH:

And then --?

The Young Man nods, gently.

PARRISH (cont'd)

It's... it's... over.

A long silence. Parrish and the Young Man take each other in,

the sense that now they understand each other. A SOUND at the

door.

LUISA (O.S.)

Mr. Parrish?

Parrish does not hear her for the moment, Luisa steps inside

the Library.

LUISA (cont'd)

Will the gentleman be staying for

dinner, sir?

Parrish ignores her at first, finally he looks at Luisa then

at the Young Man, then once more at both of them as if to

verify the Young Man's presence has been acknowledged by

Luisa. The Young Man interjects:

YOUNG MAN:

(to Luisa)

Yes.

(a polite afterthought)

Thank you.

Luisa nods perfunctorily and exits. Parrish is frozen,

dumbfounded.

YOUNG MAN (cont'd)

(to Parrish)

Where is dinner?

Parrish does not answer at first.

PARRISH:

This is crazy -- you're not going to

eat dinner with us.

YOUNG MAN:

Bill, I am eating dinner with you.

And your family. And that's what

we're doing. It's not open for

discussion. Nothing is. Don't

you understand?

Parrish is frightened by the response.

YOUNG MAN (cont'd)

Good. Now lead the way.

Parrish hesitates, then obediently leads the Young Man out

of the library, down a long hallway and across the foyer.

PARRISH:

Excuse me? Could I say something?

YOUNG MAN:

Of course.

PARRISH:

(quietly)

It just occurred to me --

YOUNG MAN:

Speak up, please.

PARRISH:

(louder)

When I introduce you, if I say who

you are, I don't think anyone will

stay for dinner.

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