The Fisher King Page #8

JACK:

Have I died?

PARRY:

(friendly)

Hahahahaaa..Nononono...

JACK:

(his head throbbing)

If you're going to murder me,

that's fine...just don't laugh.

HE tries to focus his eyes and looks around the room.

There is an extremely organized "living area" - a make-shift

kitchen w/hot plate, a nail in a wall w/clothes on hangers...

There is also a DUMPSTER SITTING BENEATH A GARBAGE CHUTE -

The dumpster has planets and stars painted on it's side.

JACK looks to the far wall and sees a hand-painted mural,

depicting a medieval-style setting; grassy landscape, knights

and maidens on horses and a CASTLE-LIKE BUILDING...all rather

amateurish but with a definite committment to the period.

In the foreground of this mural, stands a striking figure -

a five foot high KNIGHT CLOAKED IN A RED CAPE sitting atop a

fiery steed. The figure is imposing and villainous.

JACK looks to the other wall and finds PARRY'S ARSENOL -

homemade "weapons" that also look Medieval like lances made

from mop sticks, nets made of knotted rope, slingshots and

a shield made from a garbage can cover with a rose painted on it.

JACK doesn't know what to make of all this. HE is frightened.

PARRY:

It's all right. Don't be embarassed.

Yes, I live in a boiler room.

My name's Parry. We met last night.

HE holds out his hand. JACK takes it cautiously.

JACK:

Jack Lucas...

PARRY:

(reciting it back)

"Jack Lucas".

PAUSE. PARRY suddenly JUMPS UP AS IF BEING CALLED. (NOTE: PARRY

has a tendency to move suddenly - flying and darting about the

room)

PARRY:

(to the air)

WHAT!

JACK:

HUH?

PARRY:

WHAT?

JACK:

WHAT?

PARRY:

(to JACK)

Ssshhhhh.

PARRY looks as if he is listening to someone.

JACK doesn't understand. HE starts to creep away, toward the door.

PARRY:

(understanding)

Oohhhhh.

(to JACK)

HEY JACK LUCAS!

HE flies next to JACK. JACK freezes.

....Can you keep a secret?

JACK:

No...

PARRY:

Do you know what THE LITTLE PEOPLE just told me?

JACK:

(getting nervous)

The Little People?

PARRY gets closer to JACK.

PARRY:

THEY said you're the one.

JACK:

They're mistaken. I am definitely not

anyone...

HE continues to edge toward the door. PARRY stands abruptly

and yells once again at thin air.

PARRY:

(to the LITTLE PEOPLE)

Well, I've gotta say something!

I mean you're tying my hands here!!

JACK crawls quickly but is stopped by PARRY, who plops down in

front of him.

PARRY:

They say you're not ready to know.

JACK:

I'm not.

PARRY:

I know all this sounds strange but...

(sincerely)

I really do hear them.

JACK nods, trying to hold it together.

...Do you know who I am?

(JACK SHAKES HIS HEAD)

...Go on. Take a guess.

(shouts to the air)

LET HIM GUESS!! Tch.

Frightened, JACK decides to humor him.

JACK:

Uh...well...some kind of...vigilante.

PARRY:

(boyish)

Noooo...I mean that sort of happens

along the way but noooo I'm on a

what you call a "quest" See...

(leans in and whispers)

I'm the janitor of God.

JACK'S eyes widen.

PARRY JUMPS UP, hops in the DUMPSTER, standing 'neath the CHUTE.

PARRY:

I was standing in here one evening...

JACK:

(can't help but ask)

Why?

PARRY:

I don't remember. Listen, you do

strange things when you live alone.

Are you married?

(JACK shakes his head)

Funny, you look married.

JACK is more frightened by this remark than anything else.

HE starts to inch his way casually toward the exit...

PARRY:

Anyway, I was standing here and all

of a sudden - I hear these voices -

And the more I listen, the louder they get.

PARRY leans on the edge of the dumpster, staring at JACK.

....And then I saw them Jack.

Hundreds of them. Flying around this room.

The tiniest - cutest little - FAT

people you ever saw...Well - I

had to blink! But they were still there.

And they told me that I had

been chosen for this special quest...

You know what they want me do, Jack?

JACK freezes - afraid to hear.

CAMERA CUTS TO A C.U. of PARRY, who smiles...

THEY want me to find the Holy

Grail for them.

JACK's jaw drops slightly.

...My reaction exactly. I mean,

you start getting requests from

little floating fat people who

tell you you're special, and you

wind up a mini-series - Am I right?

But then, at that very moment, there

was this tremendous RUMBLING sound...

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