Never Been Kissed Page #2

ANITA:

Oh, man! Who told?

GUS:

Roger in Op/Ed. Don't make me send

you another memo about my policy

on inter-office dating.

JOSIE:

Intra office. And they're not

dating. They're having sex.

ANITA:

And what is your policy? That if

you're not getting any, no one

can?

Anita flounces off.

GUS:

How many times have I fired her?

JOSIE:

Five-- Six--

GUS:

(shrugging, giving

up)

Eh.

Gus turns to exit.

JOSIE:

Hey Gus--did you see the story

idea I left on your desk?

GUS:

Yeah--the blind foster home mother.

It was good. I got Cahoon on it.

JOSIE:

(disappointed)

Oh. Cahoon. Yeah, he's--good.

GUS:

Geller, we've been over this. You're

a great copy editor. Maybe my best

copy editor. You're not a reporter.

JOSIE:

You've done five of my ideas.

GUS:

You know what separates us office

flunkies from the reporters?

JOSIE:

They don't have to be in the office

Christmas show?

GUS:

A flack jacket.

JOSIE:

(not getting it)

A--flack jacket.

GUS:

Every Tom, Dick, and Harry thinks

he can write. But a journalist

gets in there, right where the

bombs are. He's aggressive. Grabs

the bull by the balls.

JOSIE:

You don't think I can grab bulls'

balls?

GUS:

Geller, you don't want a reporter's

life. They're very--messy. You're

all about order. Control. And

getting me my copy by five.

JOSIE:

Hey--I can be out of control.

Gus smiles. On his way out he re-adjusts Josie's nameplate

so it hangs at an angle. Tormented, Josie waits a beat.

She can't take it, and runs to the door and straightens

it.

GUS:

(over his shoulder)

Copy by five.

INT. SUN TIMES LUNCHROOM -- DAY

Actually, a pretty depressing kitchenette area. Anita and

Josie eat lunch--Anita eats Chinese out of a container,

Josie has three baggies of perfectly cut food in front of

her.

JOSIE:

Be honest. Do you think I'm

aggressive?

Anita ponders a moment.

ANITA:

Okay. Remember when they took your

office chair in for repairs and

forgot to return it?

JOSIE:

Yeah.

ANITA:

You stood for like a month.

Cynthia, an affable African-American woman in her 40's,

enters and puts three microwave meals in the microwave.

JOSIE:

Just because I'm not out of control

doesn't mean I can't write.

CYNTHIA:

Josie, you listen to me. If you

feel you're a writer--

(touching her chest)

Here, deep inside, don't let anyone

tell you you're not. Look at me.

Every day I come to this paper and

I pour my heart and soul into what

I do. I feel it, passionately, to

the core of my being.

JOSIE:

You write obituaries.

CYNTHIA:

Hey, if you can make a busted aorta

sound good--honey, that's art.

The microwave dings off. Cynthia fishes the three Lean

Cuisines out. Anita and Josie share a look.

ANITA:

Cynthia, aren't they only diatetic

if you eat them one at a time?

CYNTHIA:

I eat 'em one at a time.

ANITA:

(to Josie)

Y'know, maybe Gus has a point. It

wouldn't kill you to relax and

have some fun. Roger's got a friend,

Marshall in editing? The one with

the lazy eye? Maybe we could double

date.

JOSIE:

Forget it.

ANITA:

I swear to God, Jos. When is the

last time you went on a real live

date?

JOSIE:

I'm concentrating on my career

right now.

ANITA:

Do you own any colored underwear?

Stripes? Anything?!

JOSIE:

(embarrassed)

Anita!

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