Amoeblog


Silence of the Lambs

Posted by Job O Brother, April 24, 2007 12:47pm | Post a Comment

               INT. JOB'S APARTMENT - DAY

               JOB, (early 30's) sits at his computer, his head propped up
               by his left hand.

               He stares blankly at the screen.

               He types everything you just read.

               Then he types this.

               Then he sighs.

                                   JOB
                             (to camera)
                         I have an earache.
                             (beat)
                         I've never had an earache before. I
                         mean, this is going on one week.
                         And the last two days it's been
                         especially bad.
                             (beat)
                         It makes writing a blog especially
                         challenging, because the pain is
                         distracting me. Plus, pain is not
                         funny... usually.

               He squints in pain.

               He cracks his neck.

               He looks over at his black cat, FANGS, who is hunting a wild
               housefly in the middle of the room.

               He is listening to a mix he's made for his boyfriend.
               Currently playing is a track from the Mirah remix album,
               Joyride; an album he enjoys, though he maintains there's no
               real room for improvement on her original recordings, his
               favorites being her first two efforts, "You Think It's Like
               This But Really It's Like This" and "Advisory Committee",
               which included the neo-wall-of-sound wonder-working of Phil
               Elvrum...

                                   JOB (CONT'D)
                             (correcting)
                         Elverum.

               ...whatever.

                                   JOB (CONT'D)
                         Allow me to add, also, that I've
                         loved every one of Mirah's albums;
                         each one contains at least one
                         jewel of a song that absolutely
                         sends me. No small feat, I've I've
                         mentioned in previous blogs...

               Uh... so I guess I was done speaking?

                                   JOB (CONT'D)
                         I'm sorry. Did I interrupt you?

               Yes.

                                   JOB (CONT'D)
                         Oh. Sorry. Go ahead.

               Thank you. Eh-hem... Job stops speaking and waits for the
               directive comments in the script to have their say...

                                   JOB (CONT'D)
                         Is that what they're called?

               Huh?

                                   JOB (CONT'D)
                         Is that what those parts of a film
                         script are called? 'Directive
                         comments'?

               Um...

               Beat.

               Beat.

               Beat.

                                   JOB (CONT'D)
                         You don't know, do you?

               Shut up.

                                   JOB (CONT'D)
                         Hey! It's cool. I mean, I don't
                         care. I mean, I obviously don't
                         know myself, otherwise I'd have
                         typed that, right?

               It's embarrassing.

                                   JOB (CONT'D)
                         Don't be embarrassed! It's not your
                         fault...

               I know, but I don't even know what I'm called!

                                   JOB (CONT'D)
                         Dude, chill out. I'm not stressing
                         about it and I'm the dumb-ass who's
                         writing you!

               I know.

                                   JOB (CONT'D)
                         So relax.

               Okay.

                                   JOB (CONT'D)
                         Good. Now, go on with what you were
                         saying.

               Beat.

               I don't remember.

                                   JOB (CONT'D)
                         You were talking about how much I
                         love Mirah, who's music can be
                         found in the rock/pop section at
                         Amoeba Music.

               Uh-huh...

               Beat.

               Beat.

               I don't remember what else I was going to say.

                                   JOB (CONT'D)
                         Hm. Well, tell you what, I'm gonna
                         start getting ready for work, so
                         you can detail that. Okay?

               Okay.

               Job scratches the side of his head and worries that LA has
               given him dandruff.

               He takes a sip of water.

               He turns up the music, which is now playing a ridiculous
               cover of "Tainted Love" as sung by Rupert Everett, which is
               featured on the soundtrack for "Hearts of Fire", a
               collector's item which can occasionally be found at Amoeba
               Music and which features songs by one of its cast members,
               Bob Dylan, making the kind of embarrassing music that was
               made in the dark times of the 1980's.

                                   JOB (CONT'D)
                         If I could go back in time I'd pay
                         for John Hinckley to get target
                         practice lessons...

               That's not funny.

                                   JOB (CONT'D)
                         Neither were the 1980's.

               Remember what happened when you time travelled to Tudor
               England? Besides, you're interrupting me again.

                                   JOB (CONT'D)
                         Sorry.

               Job cracks his knuckles and enters the restroom, where he
               brushes his teeth for a ridiculously long time.

               He puts on some clothes.

               EXT. SUNSET BOULEVARD - DAY

               He walks to Amoeba Music Hollywood.

               He reminds himself to use both legs when walking.

                                   JOB
                         Ah, yes... that's much easier.

               INT. AMOEBA MUSIC HOLLYWOOD - MOMENTS LATER

               Job clocks-in, hugs Karen, walks back to the soundtrack
               section.

                                   CUSTOMER
                         What does a green price-tag mean?

                                   JOB
                             (to camera)
                         You might as well stop here.

               Good idea.

                                           END

Relevant Tags

Cats (27), Mirah (5), Phil Elvrum (2), Rupert Everett (2), Bob Dylan (45), Gays (71), Soundtracks (22), Amoeba Music Hollywood (104)