Mike's Scriptification . . . a VERY rough draft!

INT: JAMES BROWNING’S HOME OFFICE LATE MORNING

A BOOK FILLED ROOM

Four hardback books by James Browning sit on a desk in front of a window. JAMES sits at a laptop, typing into a word processor. A cup of coffee sits next to the computer. FINBAR lays next to the desk.

JAMES stops typing, sighs, then highlights the page he has just written and deletes it all. JAMES stares at the screen for a moment, then opens the web browser and clicks to PETERMAN’S EYE. He reads the day’s topic, smiles, and starts to type.

JAMES
(V/O)

(insert monologue about topic)

JAMES closes the window and looks back and forth between the
computer screen and the window. He looks down at FINBAR,
who looks back up at him with one eye, as if undecided
between waking up and sleeping.

JAMES:
What do you think, Fin? Lunch? Want
to go see Nina?

FINBAR:
Woof.

JAMES:
Right.

FINBAR exits. JAMES picks up his wallet and keys from the
desk. His hand hovers over his cell phone for a moment, as
if unsure whether to take it or not, then stuffs the phone
in a pocket.

EXT: JAMES’S CABIN LATE MORNING

JAMES and FINBAR exit the house and cross the yard to a dirt
jog-path. They start to walk towards the town. Two WOMEN
in bright spandex run towards them.

WOMEN
(in unison)
Hi, James. Hi, Fin.

JAMES:
Good morning, ladies.

The two WOMEN continue down the path in the opposite
direction.
EXT: ROLAND, NH NOONISH

JAMES and FINBAR walk down the street to NINA’S CAFÉ, and
sit at one of the outdoor tables. A teenage waitress comes
out with menus and bends down to scratch FINBAR.

WAITRESS:
Hi, Fin! How’s my buddy?

FINBAR:
(enjoying the attention)
Woof.

WAITRESS:
Hi, James. Want a menu?

JAMES:
No, thanks. I’ll have one of Nina’s
special ham sandwiches and a cup of coffee.
Oh, and a bowl of water for your friend there.

WAITRESS:
(gives FINBAR one last pat)
Sure thing.

JAMES people watches until his sandwich comes. He eats it
with obvious relish. As he finishes, NINA joins him at the
table with a refill of coffee and a cup for herself.

NINA:
Haven’t seen you here for a few days.

JAMES:
Yeah, I guess I’ve been busy.

NINA:
How’s the book coming?

JAMES:
(sighing)
Slowly. I can’t get any more than five pages
in without deleting it all.


NINA:
What’s blocking you?

JAMES:
I’m not sure. It should be simple
enough: two naked men in Central Park
discuss baseball and play chess while
Fashion Week plays out around them.
Easy, right?

NINA stares at him for a moment.

NINA:
You’re kidding, right?

JAMES:
Yeah. It’s supposed to be about a man
driving across the country, but I can’t
come up with a reason that hasn’t been
done a dozen times before.

NINA:
Is it for a woman? A man? A job?

JAMES:
None of those quite feel right. It has to
be something . . . different.

NINA:
How about no reason at all?

JAMES:
What do you mean?

NINA:
I mean, he could be traveling for the sake
of traveling. Jack Kerouac, but with a cell
phone and a laptop. Driving a hybrid instead
of jumping a train. A hero for the next
generation of shiftless birks who don’t want
to get a real job.

JAMES:
You know . . . you might just have something
there. I could even do it ironically, sort
shove my foot up the asses of the fake intellectuals!