Motivational Growth
- NOT RATED
- Year:
- 2013
- 104 min
- 148 Views
1
(8-bit music)
(tv noises)
(8-bit music)
His name was Kent.
He was my television set.
He died somewhere around week 67.
Odd. I'd always thought I'd be the first to go.
Oh...no!
No!
(clicking remote)
No, no, no, no!
No, no, f***!
(exasperated sighing)
(clicking remote)
(whimpering)
(slow steady beat turning into techno music)
Aaaahhhh!!!
(sobbing)
Kent was really the only piece
of non-furniture I half-expected
to stay with me through this whole thing.
All of the fish had given themselves up
to a more aerated lifestyle by week 10.
In March I stopped watering the house plants.
They were planning something untoward
Every day is the same.
Every day I wake up to find
that absolutely nothing! changed.
If it wasn't for the sores,
I don't think I'd have a reason to get up at all.
Anyway, it's usually noon
by the time I roll my ass off the couch.
sometime during the second week
There's really no point,
not necessarily in setting it, but in being alarmed.
What do I have to be alarmed about?
No bro named Brent calls me in the morning
asking me to meet for an iced latte.
No corporate success storie is on hold
because of me not showing up for a few months.
No hot little hard body is tiddling it to
a polaroid on her desk at my dumb ass.
And my f***ing television set,
just ate it like Rice KrispieTreats.
Kent...Kent, Jesus.
What the hell, man?
My seclusion has made me reconsider things;
the very meaning of life itself, in point and fact.
A few months of nothing and sooner or later,
everything starts to seem like nothing.
We had a pact, man!
A covenant.
During this sort of recognition-
of-self-worthlessness processed,
it seems one finds it easier to question things
that a normal, healthy citizen might take for granted.
For instance, my daily struggle
between the couch and the crapper.
It's not as easy as you may think it is
to sh*t when that lonely sh*t
is the absolute culmination of your entire day.
While it is necessary for all creatures
to periodically excrete unneeded
and potentially harmful substances
for prim and proper metabolic maintenance,
the impulse to indulge in this otherwise
simple, natural act, serves as
sort of a field test for people like me.
(straining)
when it comes to bowel movements
because they are an expression of life.
And life is hateful
Life is death, and pain, and anger,
(straining)
and solitude, and fury, all wrapped up
in a tricky little package and sold to you
like you should really be into this sh*t.
(straining)
You know kittens?
Kittens are killers, man.
They are killing machines.
They aren't playing with you
and your milkring, or your shoelace,
or that organic yuppie yarn you use on the bus
to show everyone how unique you are for knitting.
(straining)
They're training to f*** some other animal up.
Pull the legs off the spider, eat the eyeballs
out of a pigeon, that's life.
That right there is life, man.
Life is sh*t.
Now imagine that that sh*t right there
was the highlight of your day.
That sh*t is the sh*t I have been fighting
everyday for the last six months on this island earth.
Without Kent, all I have is a semi-regular
sh*t to get worked up about.
Not anymore.
This sh*t, that sh*t ends right here.
If you mix 2 parts common household bleach
and 1 part sulfuric acid, you get chlorine gas.
Boosh.
Chlorine gas was wildly used during
the first world war as a biological
contaminant. To kill people, lots of people.
If sulfuric acid isn't immediately available,
you could probably make do with any
common ammonia based glass cleaner, I think.
Let's find out.
The direct effect of so potent a mixture
in a case such as my own? Six months
of torturous, pointless, soul-sucking
seclusion brought to one disgustingly glorious end,
and one seriously clean-ass bathtub.
(vent whirring)
My name's Ian, by the way.
(B-bit horror music)
(tv static noises)
The Mold:
Good morning, Sunshine.Welcome back to the land of the living!
(Ian groaning)
Ian:
What the christ happened?The Mold:
You okay buckaroo?You still in orbit?
(Ian coughing)
Man, you're a real dream you knew that?
Hey, you listening to me nosebleed?
Hey Jack, you were going
for pinks back there, huh?
That was the real deal,
That was real deal, what with the tub full of short stuff.
What are you after, aftermath?
Ian:
Oh sh*t, that didn't work at all.The Mold:
Jlack, do The Mold a real solid, alright?Grab up all of your jacks and
marbles and bouncy balls and listen to me
for a second. Can you do that, Jack?
Ian:
My name's Ian.The Mold:
Oh The Mold knows,Jack,The Mold knows.(The Mold laughs)
Ian:
I'm talking to the grime now.God, what the f*** did I do to my head?
They say, and Blue Oyster Cult
will totally back me up on this,
that 40,000 men and women die everyday.
Being that there are only 1,444 seconds
in any given 24-hour period, it seems
seriously screwed up to me that I have failed
so righteously a task that the rest of the world
seems perfectly capable of committing
something like 30 times a f***ing second.
In the time it takes me to walk
from the shitter to the sitter,
60 average, every-day, run-of-the-goddamn-mill
You know, failure at any number of
standard tasks can end in death.
You fail at driving? Dead.
You fail at crossing the street? Dead.
You fail at preparing certain forms
of pacific rim seafood? Neuro-toxic shock
a pretty wild, pre-death state, but then, dead.
What happens if you fail at suicide?
You fail at death itself.
Me, that's what.
At least I've got Kent.
(tv explodes)
F***!
(dialing phone)
Yes, hello, I'm looking for someone
to come fix my television.
No, no, yes, no well, you see it's an old
sort of thing, no I don't think plasma
was even invented at the time, no,
wait what even is plasma?
I just need to find a place to get this fixed,
can you get me that?
Hi there, my TV is out and
I need someone to come fix it.
I have no idea what plasma even is,
so I don't think so, I don't know,
I'd have to ask my dad, but he's dead, so.
Look it's like a cabinet with a TV in it.
It's something you'd imagine
microwave TV dinners were invented for.
It's old, it's made from wood.
Tree wood. From trees.
My uncle used to call it "The Commodore",
l always just called him Kent.
You know "The Commodore" like
in the navy or star fleet or something.
Today would be best, yeah.
I don't know, anytime between
now and tomorrow works for me.
Sure, it's Ian Folliver,
606 South Brightmore number 108.
No, yeah - I'll be here.
That front door and I have a bit of a thing
in so much that I've pretty much
stayed away from it unless
there was pizza on the other side.
There's this kind of forcefield
keeping me from going through there.
A force-of-will field.
Out there it's f***ing crazy.
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"Motivational Growth" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 8 Nov. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/motivational_growth_14105>.
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