Very Bad Things Page #3

LIZ:

I just think that at some point you're

going to have to re-evaluate some of

your friendships...

FISHER:

Who else?

LIZ:

Charles Moore for instants.

FISHER:

You don't like Moore? Since when?

LIZ:

It's not that I don't like him. But

the wedding has really got me thinking

and... I just keep myself opening

up. Growning. And I want you keeping

up with me here.

FISHER:

What does Moore have to do with your

growing?

LIZ:

I just don't see him in the big

picture.

FISHER:

I've known him since Cub Scouts.

LIZ:

He's weird.

FISHER:

He's quiet.

LIZ:

He's weird.

TIGHT ON - CHARLES MOORE

Late twenties, a chef in a very upscale, very busy KITCHEN.

His name, "Moore," is embroidered on his white chef's jacket.

Food orders fly all around as Moore works with a mesmerizing

focus, a poetic sense of purpose, fifteen things going on at

once; he chops, sautes, braises, etc..., in a perfect mute

silence.

FISHER AND LIZ STILL IN LINE

FISHER:

He just doesn't talk a lot.

LIZ:

Why? What's his problem?

FISHER:

He's a great chef.

LIZ:

He's weird. And I expect more from

you.

FISHER:

You expect more what?

LIZ:

You're going to be hungover for three

days. Like those guys on "Oprah"

that get drunk and have disgusting

sex with prostitutes and then say

their vows with the stench of cheap

hotel whore sex all over them.

FISHER:

Time out.

LIZ:

It's vile!

People are staring.

FISHER:

That's absurd.

LIZ:

I've seen it on television.

FISHER:

I'm not going to marry you with the

smell of prostitutes on my body.

LIZ:

(starts to cry)

I am not common Keith. I am not

common. I am a creature like no other

and I will not be commoned! Is that

to much to ask?

(screaming)

Is that to much to ask!?!

FISHER:

You will not be common!!!

Finally, at the head of the line, Liz steps up to the clerk.

LIZ:

Marriage license please.

EXT. GOVERNMENT BUILDING

Fisher and Liz emerge, start for the parking lot. Liz stops

to look at Fisher, her eyes well with tears, vulnerable and

apologetic.

LIZ:

Do you love me?

FISHER:

Of course.

LIZ:

How much?

FISHER:

With all my heart.

LIZ:

(vulnerable)

Kiss me...?

FISHER takes her into his arms, pulls her to him, kisses her

hard, for all it's worth.

INT. A LARGE MONEY MANAGEMENT FIRM

Desk after desk after desk of identical men, seemingly

repeating the same task. We find Fisher at one of the desks,

number crunching. At the desk across from Fisher sits...

MICHAEL BRENN, short, compact, with a severe personality

disorder, masquerading as semi-appropriate behavior.

MICHAEL:

That's just insecurity.

FISHER:

I don't know. She's really been

stressing out.

MICHAEL:

Just insecurity. Nut crunching gut

splinters.

FISHER:

What does that mean?

MICHAEL:

It means she's insecure.

FISHER:

About what?

Michael's phone rings.

MICHAEL:

(picks up)

Mike Brenn. Yes. Yes. 14.3 at 7.5

for 6. At 29.83 at 9.

(hangs up)

I'm amazed the windows don't blow

out of their f***ing sockets with

all the repressed, ass-puckering

rage in these soul-less lizards.

FISHER:

(beat)

I just want her to be happy.

MICHAEL:

Same alarm clock every morning, same

two pops on the same snooze button...

(PHONE RINGS; picks

up)

Michael Brenn. Yes... Yes...

(looking through stacks

of stats)

Hold your horses. Okay. Got it. 6.321

at 17.28 for 6.6 at 9.256 out at

3432.343.

(hangs up)

Same shower, towel, toothbrush, razor,

hair gel. It's a f***ing epidemic

Fisher and you better start addressing

it. You're getting married and I'm

not going to candy-coat it. It just

gets worse. It's an eighteen wheel

cement mixer that will crush every

bone in your body.

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