The Doors Page #19

The FOOD is laid out, the DUCK cooking... but no one is there

as we move across this tastefully decorated house to PAMELA

in the living room, rattled, obsessively going through Jim's

papers. PEOPLE are knocking at the door. Guests looking

through the windows, tapping. A giant poster of Marilyn Monroe

frames Pamela.

PAM:

What am I going to do about these

papers! Jim, Jim -- you really need

someone to organize this stuff. Your

handwriting's just like a little

kid.

Jim is somewhere else -- pulling out the DUCK which is totally

charred black. He laughs.

PAM:

My God look at this. I wonder if

William Blake was ever this

disorganized.

RAY and DOROTHY walking in. ROBBIE and JOHN general commotion.

Dorothy immediately seeing the duck, runs to it...

DOROTHY:

Oh the duck!

JIM:

(coming over)

Get some drinks, man. Over there

(getting Pam's

attention)

Pam!

PAM:

I'm gonna be your editor now,

seriously I'm going to organize all

your stuff. I'm gonna take out all

the f*** words.

DOORS SONG:

You're lost little girl

You're lost little girl

You're lost, tell me

Who are you?

PEOPLE are introducing themselves, coming in from all over,

like in a shoebox. Hippies. Doors people... now TOM BAKER

with MIKE and DOG... Now an aggressive Chuck Berry type BLACK

SINGER with John's GIRLFRIEND. Then a TIMOTHY LEARY look-

alike appears. CHATTER blending everywhere as we build to a

vast confusion at Jim and Pam's party.

JIM:

Let's go wild child, let's get out

there Romeo and Juliet, Marilyn Monroe

and Vincent Van Gogh, Jim and Pam,

rock and roll

(a poem)

"Clothed in sunlight Restless in

wanting Dying of fever Changed shapes

of an empire Vast promissory notes

of joy How it has changed you How

slowly estranged you Solely arranged

you Beg you for mercy"

As she takes the tablet on her tongue, swallows.

JIM:

(cupping her chin)

Pam... Honey, you're trying too hard.

PAM:

I'm not -- I'm not.

JIM:

(soft, reassuring)

Yes you are.

PAM:

There's some great poetry here Jim,

some wonderful ideas.

JIM:

Yeah but nobody wants to read poetry

anymore, nobody cares, it's not like

important y'know. Just put it away.

Not right now.

PAM:

(lost)

But what am I supposed to do? How do

I fit in? Who am I supposed to be

around all these people?

The FRENCH COUNT coming in now, from the Warhol party in New

York. They're looking at her, embarrassing as everyone

overhears.

COUNT:

Darling Pamela, I brought you a little

something.

JIM:

(ignoring it)

You're my girl, that's who...

PAMELA:

(laughs insanely)

I'm not your girl, don't give me

that sh*t. I know you f*** everything

that touches you.

Only in life would ANNE O'RIORDAN walk in at this precise

moment, a smile on her face. Ray's eyes roll.

ANNE:

Hi Jim...

(waiting for the

introduction to Pam)

JIM:

(to Pamela)

All right so I do. I live my life

the way I want. I don't want anyone

expecting anything from me --

including you! You don't like it

then get the f*** out!

(to Anne)

Oh hi Anne. You know Pam? She's a

little pissed off right now but...

RAY:

Okay Jim let's eat that duck.

DOROTHY:

(calming Pamela)

Come on Pam, let's put out the

plates...

PAMELA:

(stunned, pushing

thru to Anne)

Anne O'Riordan. Are you Anne

O'Riordan?

ANNE:

You must be Pamela

PAMELA:

(eyeing her up and

down through her

tears)

You actually put your dick in this

woman Jim?

JIM:

Well I... sometimes yeah

PAMELA:

(condescending to

Anne)

I understand... I really do but don't

ever think that Jim's gonna love you

or take care of you. You're one of a

hundred you know

Anne uncomfortable, Jim getting pissed.

JIM:

Hey -- don't you know when to stop!

PAM:

Look who's talking

ANNE:

I'd like to think Jim can make up

his own mind who he loves and who he

doesn't.

PAMELA:

Don't kid yourself sweetheart, Jim's

crazy but he's not that crazy. He

loves me.

ROBBIE:

Jesus, it's not gonna be one of these

dinners is it Jim? How 'bout some

turkey?

BAKER:

Love it!! Far out.

DOROTHY:

Yes, let's go into the kitchen. The

duck's ready.

John's GIRLFRIEND is trying to introduce the BLACK SINGER to

Jim.

GIRLFRIEND:

(anxious)

Jim, you should meet Chuck Vincent.

He came specially to meet you.

JIM:

(deeply surprised)

Oh yeah -- Chuck. You're my idol

man... since I was 12. The best man...

CHUCK VINCENT is suddenly there in Jim's face, bulging

eyeballs.

CHUCK VINCENT:

So you the white boy makin' all that

money.

JIM:

I still can't hold a candle to you.

CHUCK VINCENT:

Hey everybody Chuck Vincent's here.

Yo sho can't boy, I ain't heard much

of yor stuff. What I done heard don't

show me much.

ROBBIE:

(insulted)

So f*** you man...

JIM:

(laughs)

Chuck Vincent man! No. He's right...

Chuck Vincent's here, everybody,

Chuck Vincent.

CHUCK:

Ain't no honkey ever gonna sing the

blues, you ain't been there. Where

dat turkey at?

The charred TURKEY is being carved up. A moment of peace,

then:
Pamela walks up to Jim with a bowl of sweet potatoes

in her arms, an announcement.

PAM:

I just have one thing to say to you --

YOU'VE RUINED ANOTHER THANKSGIVING

JIM MORRISON!!

JIM:

It's not Thanksgiving honey.

As she throws the sweet potatoes right at him, spraying

everybody. Jim laughing nuttily, the Count wiping the potatoes

off. Pam rushing now for the turkey to throw, Jim chasing

her.

PAM:

(freaking out now)

YOU BASTARD! YOU RUINED MY DUCK, YOU

KILLED MY DUCK!!! BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD

RAZORS RAZORS EVERYWHERE!

Throwing the turkey at Jim, smearing everything, everybody.

COUNT:

Pamela, bella, please behave hunh...

Va fanculo Jimmy, what the hell did

you give her

She doesn't want the Count's solace, throws him off.

PAM:

GET OUT!!!

PATRICIA leaving now, covered with turkey sauce.

PATRICIA:

See you later.

JIM:

(to the Count)

She's working it out, man, it's okay

(going to console her)

Pamela, Pamela... come on baby, it's

all right, shhh.

HUNGARIAN GYPSY FOLK MUSIC playing madly from the tape deck.

John fiddling with it, nervously.

PAM:

BLOOOOOOODDDDDDD! DEEATHHHH! STOP

THE BLEEDING JESUS. I'M DYING HELP

MEEEEEE!

JIM:

PUSH! PUSH! IT'S A BOY!

They struggle, she goes for the carving knife, Dorothy and

Ray trying to restrain her. OTHER GUESTS keep talking as if

things are quite normal. Pam breaks through Dorothy -- coming

after Jim

PAM:

RAAAAZOOOORS!!! RAAAAZZZZZORS AND

DUCKKKS! THIS SHAMAN SH*T IS BULLSHIT!

F*** YOU AND YOUR DARK RIDE!!

He grabs her wrist just in time, equally insane now -- a

comic glow in his face. Jekyll and Hyde.

JIM:

Oh murder? MURDER??? YOU WANNA DO

SOME MURDER:

RAY:

JIM! COME ON. GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF!

TOM, DOG & MIKE

(jumping in)

MURDER!!! YEAH!... Where's my camera!

A ball of people wrestling across the kitchen floor, upsetting

the table and the remainder of the dishes, a carving knife

at stake in the air... Jim finally wrestling the knife away

and holding it over Pam.

JIM:

YOU WANNA KNOW WHAT MURDER IS. YOU

WANNA FEEL DEATH... HERE!

(forces the knife

back into her hand)

MURDER ME! FEEL WHAT IT'S LIKE! GO

AHEAD. GIMME SOME DEATH!!!

(kneels at her feet)

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