Singer/Songwriter/Artist.... Darren Block: Novel

Buy The Whole Novel Now.

SILENT RIDER by Darren Block

CHAPTER ONE The Spider

Wayne Mackey Jr. sat quietly behind black sunglasses waiting for his bus. His sleeves rolled down past his wrists to the base of his thumbs and his frayed bell-bottoms dragged well below his boot heels. A three-day beard and the wide brim of a beat-up cowboy hat shaded all but just a hint of his perfect chin. He believed that he’d mastered a consummate disguise but ironically his determination to be anonymous made him the target of every eye. He stared straight ahead, pretending not to be noticed. He lit a short filterless cigarette with the tiny butt of one burned down to nothing and flicked what was left to the ground in a silent shower of sparks. Secretly rubbing his singed fingers together, he tried to ignore the pain.
The bus terminal bustled with people of all colors, shapes and sizes and a frenetic energy ebbed and flowed as the giant Greyhounds came and went. Accustomed to years of clandestine living, Wayne felt vulnerable and displaced sitting among the masses. He had been a movie star for most of his adult life and knew little of the outside world.
From a distant corner of the terminal, Wayne spotted a woman approaching; an ordinary woman drawn toward him like a giddy bridesmaid, waving a pen and an old bus ticket stub like a freshly caught bouquet. Wayne pretended to remain unaware until that awkward moment of unwanted contact. She stood before him as if to offer her virtue. Wayne snatched the pen and the old bus ticket stub from her hand and hid them under his coat. He pulled her down onto the bench beside him by the hem of her tartan wool dress. He spoke to her softly, making sure no one else could hear.
“How did you know who I was?” he whispered.
“You wore that hat in Whiskey Train,” she replied proudly, “and those were the glasses from Risk Factor - you were so funny in that movie.”
“It wasn’t a comedy.” Wayne whispered back. He had never been forced to make direct conversation with a fan before, his only feedback came from agents and publicists.
“I’d be honored to have your autograph. Could you make it out to ‘my true love,
Donna - love, Wayne Mackey Jr’.”
He took out the pen, signed her ticket stub and handed it back to her, making sure that no one had seen him. “I’d really rather not have anybody know I’m here.” He begged.
“Then maybe you should stop wearing clothes from your movies - listen to me - telling Wayne Mackey Jr. what to do.” She quivered at the very thought.
“No you have a good point,” Wayne said, “too recognizable. I always tried to tell them my clothes were too recognizable, that ‘Wayne Mackey’ should be the focus, not the clothes - but they wouldn’t listen - that’s the problem Donna - nobody listens. It’s all about marketing nowadays - the sun-glasses, the shoes, the car - there are no movie stars anymore - the products are the stars, the actors have become the props. Do you know what I mean?”
It had been several hours since Wayne had been able to talk about himself and the fact that he was talking to a perfect stranger was no deterrent; his ego felt like it was about to burst.
Donna had stopped listening the moment Wayne had spoken her name, getting her very excited and nervous...and strangely possessive. “Who are you waiting for? Are you waiting for someone?!” She asked, barely containing herself.
Wayne countered her energy by becoming dead calm, something he’d mastered over so many years of having fans get star-struck in his presence. “No - I’m on the next bus,” he said calmly trying to turn her off,” I’ve quit making movies and I’m leaving L.A. - tonight.”
“Like in Runaway when you left Wall Street for Marissa Tome - you were so strong.”
Wayne turned his attention to the large glass windows of the terminal, watching another bus pull away, wishing he were already gone.
“But this isn’t a movie,” he said, as he watched the bus disappear and the trail of black diesel exhaust dissolve into the L.A. night.
“If it were - I’d be in an Wayne Mackey movie!” she squealed, standing up and then practically passing out at the thought, “ I’d just die.”
Wayne pulled her back down onto the bench. “I really don’t want anyone to know I’m here so if you could just.....”
She abruptly snatched her autograph and dashed off across the terminal to a far corner where a friend stood waiting for her. They both whispered together, gazing dreamily in Wayne’s direction. He pulled the brim of his hat back down over his eyes, got up and dejectedly ambled over to the ticket window.
Randy Molen, the ticket clerk sat in a small plexiglass booth, isolated, quietly looking down, just biding time until the next time he could get stoned. A thirty eight year old adolescent, Randy had a certain depth about him but unfortunately he’d killed a good number of brain cells attaining it. Randy seemed to embody his generation; his development arrested at about age nineteen, he found himself caught somewhere between the sixties and the nineties and felt a certain responsibility to reflect the politics, the anger, the spirituality and the addictions of four decades. He had become an enigma even to himself and worked extra hard at maintaining a safe distance between his impression of the world and the world itself.
A theft resistant drawer and a small speaker hole was the only physical contact that the booth allowed and that was just the way Randy liked it. Wayne dejectedly pushed his ticket through the drawer..
“I’d like to trade this ticket in,” Wayne said quietly.
“Is there a problem?” Randy replied without looking up.
“I just need to get on a different bus.”
Randy took a certain sardonic pride in being able to deny Wayne’s request. “There’s no other bus to where you’re going.” He said as he pushed Wayne’s ticket back.
Wayne leaned into the glass and forcefully whispered as if he were talking to a disobedient dog, “I don’t care, just get me another ticket.” He grabbed Randy’s wrist through the drawer and forced the ticket into his hand.
Well accustomed to being talked down to, Randy seemed to respond well to Wayne’s condescending tone. “Where to?” Randy asked flatly, unwrinkling the old ticket.
Wayne thought for a moment. “Surprise me,” he said; and he meant it.
Randy hostilely tapped a few keys on his computer then slowly looked up at Wayne from behind his red rimmed half-glasses. “The next bus out ends up in Franklin Idaho on... next Thursday. Number sixty-eight.” He struggled to read as he squinted at the screen and then finally acquiesced to his bifocals. “Weather won’t let us take you directly north - so you’ll have to travel sixty-six to Oklahoma and then up and around.” He threw his glasses onto his make-shift Lucite desk; they bounded around and finally ended up between his feet on the floor. He rubbed his eyes hard as if he’d just finished reading War & Peace.
Wayne looked over at Donna and her friend who had still not taken they’re eyes off of him, then back at Randy. “How many people live in Franklin Idaho?”
“Not as many as in L.A.”
Wayne looked down at his clothes and then back over at Donna who gave him a long deliberate wink. “Sixty eight then,” he said.
Randy pushed the new ticket across through the drawer but childishly pulled it back just as Wayne reached for it, “I know what you’re going through,” Randy said, still rubbing his bloodshot eyes. “It’s like a box, man. It’s like a glass box that gets smaller and smaller. Everybody’s watching and everybody wants something. I know. You need to get out of the box man.”
Wayne looked back at Donna, barely hearing what Randy had said. “Can I just have my ticket?” For Randy, that was the longest conversation he had had with another human being in a good many years so in his mind he felt that he had just poured out his heart and had it stomped on.
“That’s another thirty six dollars,” Randy spat back sharply.
Even Wayne, as self involved as he was could see that he had hurt Randy’s feelings.
“Hey I didn’t mean to be a jerk,” Wayne said, “it’s just that - you don’t know me, and...”
Randy cut him off. “But I was listening - you weren’t listening - and I was.”
Wayne’s posture shrunk a bit. “I’m sorry.”
“You said nobody listens - am I nobody?” Randy asked, looking Wayne dead in the eye.
Wayne shrunk even further. “I’m just not used to dealing with regular people,” he pulled his sunglasses down to the tip of his nose. “I’m a movie star - I was a movie star.” Wayne took off the glasses and pointed out the People Magazine on the stool next to Randy. Wayne’s picture graced the cover as the ‘World’s Sexiest Man’. Randy was unimpressed to the point of contempt. Wayne slid two twenties across the counter. “So I should keep the change?” Randy asked sarcastically.
Wayne paused. “Sure - I guess.”
Randy had a private thought that made his chest suddenly puff out and a false sense of confidence overcome him. “I’ll tell you when people listen - when they want something - then they listen real good.” He picked up the microphone that opened the bus-station’s intercom and through the feedback addressed the passengers in the terminal, intentionally faking enthusiasm as he belligerently stuffed Wayne’s four dollar tip into his pocket.
“May I have your attention please,” he squawked, as everyone in the terminal got quiet. Randy waited a good long time before he made his announcement, savoring the power of the moment. “Greyhound proudly announces the arrival of bus number seven from Anaheim and we would now like to invite you to board. The next stop is Las Vegas Nevada. Bathrooms are at the back of the bus.”
Randy had two dreams that would never come true; one was to design an amusement-park ride that was dedicated entirely to public transportation mishaps. The passenger would be subjected to subway rides, complete with blackouts and muggings, runaway cable cars, train derailments and bus accidents. The other was to build Vegas Vegas; a hotel that was a scaled down version of the original Las Vegas strip.
He released the lever on the microphone with a high-pitched crack that seemed to echo through the terminal forever. His professionalism turned off with the microphone as he slumped back down in his chair waiting for the next bit of his soul to be snipped away by somebody who thought they were better than him.
Wayne sat back down on the bench and flipped open one of the People Magazines, futilely hiding behind it as the remaining passengers boarded bus number seven for Vegas. He looked up from behind his own likeness just in time to see the bus pulling away and Donna’s heartbroken face in the last window in the back, the autographed ticket stub pressed up against the glass. He cautiously looked around to see that the terminal was now empty.
Wayne yelled out as if he were yelling his final line to the back of a crowded theater. “Why did I ever want to be famous!?”
Failing to respect the fact that Wayne’s outburst was purely rhetorical, Randy offered his opinion. “They say that comes from lack of attention as a child.”
An awkward silence hung in the terminal, which, a moment before would have gone completely unnoticed, but now in the large empty space, lingered like a thick foul smell. “But who are ‘they’ anyway?” Randy continued, sensing he needed to say something that would cover the raw nerve that he had just exposed.
Wayne pondered the question for a strangely long time. “I don’t know.”
“Bastards,” Randy answered, “bastards.”
Wayne agreed, “yea - they are bastards.”
Randy slunk out of his glass booth and over to the thermostat that stuck out of the white tile wall just outside his transparent cube. He pulled a small screwdriver from his shirt pocket and jimmied it through the protective plastic box that guarded the thermostat from unwanted temperature changers. He used the tip of the screwdriver to delicately push the lever all the way to the left. “All that body heat makes me sick,” he said, “did you know that lady turned in her ticket to get on the same bus that you would have been on?”
Wayne seemed surprised. “She did?”
“Yeah. And now you’re on a different bus and she’s goin’ to Vegas instead of going to see her mother who’s dying of emphysema up in Oregon - I got the whole story - I was listening. So - good for her right. She deserves a break. That’s kind of.....” Randy couldn’t seem to finish his thought. Wayne tried to help, “Ironic.”
“No.”
“Funny?”
“No.”
“Pathetic?” Wayne asked.
Finally Randy was able to fill in the blank spot in his brain. “Cruel,” he said, “cruel.”
Wayne didn’t expect that.
Randy ducked back into his booth and sadly sat down in his tattered swivel chair. He spun around a few times in the chair attempting to delight himself but it didn’t work. Wayne leaned against the slick white tile wall for a moment before letting loose of his legs, sliding down the wall into a crouch. The holes in the knees of his jeans tore a little more as he pulled his legs in close to his body. He closed his eyes and for a moment let go of the tightness in his jaw. He remembered what it was like to be happy; like the moment between asleep and awake where your mind is free and your soul feels like it’s finally in control.
Suddenly the entire building began to shake as a devilish sound reverberated between the thick glass wall of the terminal and the tall brick sound-wall of the strip-mall that sat about seventy feet to the west, book-ending the space where the busses came and went. Randy cowered as five Harley-Davidsons pulled up into one of the empty bus loading spaces and stopped. Five riders dismounted in unison and lowered their kick-stands as if the move had been choreographed. The riders were dressed head to toe in leather; leather boots, pants, vests, gloves and hats. They wore steel studded leather collars, the kind you might find on a fighting-dog. Even their facial hair matched; long blond fu-man-chu’s cascading down and blending into jet black goatees. The riders dismounted in unison and strode deliberately to the glass wall. They stopped and stood an even arms-length apart, staring coldly inside.
“Oh God,” Randy whimpered.
Again in unison, the bikers lifted their left hands and all pointed directly at Wayne. Wayne meekly pointed at himself to verify they’re intention. They all nodded in unison. Randy took a deep breath as if he felt something very strange was about to happen.
“Why are they pointing at me?” Wayne asked.
“Maybe they’re fans,” said Randy, knowing that wasn’t the case at all.
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
Randy searched hard to offer another scenario. “Maybe they’re the five horsemen of the apocalypse.”
Wayne’s knowledge of the bible was fragmented at best. His father had been a southern Baptist preacher and the leader of a moderately successful healing ministry in Alabama back in the late nineteen sixties and most of the bible verse was used to scare people out of their money. He would minister to mainly misfortunate audiences around the south and use hired help to fake his weekly miracles. There was no shortage of poor people and it was fairly easy for local folks to justify anything to feed their families. Wayne’s introduction into show business came at the age of six when he was wheeled out in front of about two thousand hopefuls at a fairgrounds just outside Tuscaloosa and miraculously healed of some unexplained paralysis.
One day a man drove into Wayne’s town straight up Chapella Street, from the south; odd considering that the only things at the south end of Chapella were alligators and a large family of Negroes left over from a tobacco plantation that had been overrun by a swamp twenty years earlier. The man drove a 1938 Packard; maroon and grey with a convertible top and clean white wall tires. The man met several times with Wayne’s father, working out some sort of negotiation. Wayne was always required to be present but was kept just out of earshot so he was never able to hear what the two men were saying. The man was a tall dark East Indian. He always wore a grey silk suit, nothing like anyone in Alabama had ever seen, with wide lapels and only one button holding the jacket closed. Once the man took off his jacket and left it hanging over a chair while the two men walked out into the yard to share a cigarette. Wayne snuck in and felt the material; he had never felt anything like it before. He thought it felt like water if water were dry and it smelled like crushed coriander seeds. On the rare occasion that Wayne was able to overhear, the man’s accent was so thick that Wayne couldn’t understand a word. During their final meeting Wayne’s father gave the man Wayne’s birth certificate; in return the man placed his hands on Wayne’s father’s head and said a few words in Farsi. Even as late as the 1960's, Negroes and Native Americans, especially young healthy male children were still being bought and sold for work on fishing boats and in the logging forests. It was always in the back of Wayne’s mind that they would come for him someday; as a child he didn’t understand the concept of black and white or of slavery. But the East Indian man wasn’t interested in trading slaves, he was interested in trading souls. Wayne’s father was murdered that night by the local clan for refusing to give a cut of the nightly profits and Wayne never saw his father or the East Indian man again.
The bikers suddenly broke from their positions, mounted their bikes and abruptly rode away. After a few quiet seconds, a gust of northwest wind blew open one of the glass doors and rummaged through the terminal, flipping papers and warming the large room a few degrees. Wayne noticed a small grey spider crawling up his pant leg toward his belt. He put his hand down on his leg and let the spider crawl onto his skin and up his arm, ambling through the hairs, ultimately fighting it’s way onto his rolled-up shirt sleeve. Wayne put his hand down again, pressing it into his shirt and the little spider repeated the process, this time crawling up the other hand to the other arm. Wayne put his hand down again, and again the spider climbed on. Wayne held his hand up to his face and looked closely at the spider; it reminded him of something or someone but he couldn’t get his mind around what or who it was, if it was real or maybe something he had dreamed. It was one of those memories that sat so deep that it had no reference point, no line of connection to the present moment. All he knew is that he shared something profound at that moment with that spider. He gently blew on it. The spider held fast and Wayne blew a little harder but the spider didn’t budge; Wayne kept blowing harder and harder but couldn’t get it to let go. Finally the little spider threw out an invisible strand of silk and lowered itself gently to the ground and slipped away across the floor and under the wall.

-

SILENT RIDER
CHAPTER TWO The Scorpion

Toby Wallace was an old fashioned black gentleman and an old fashioned bus driver who believed in dedication and service; always professional and always courteous. Toby was born to his profession; his large bottom molding perfectly into the driver-seat of a bus, his eyes close together letting him focus on the road and his patients was unceasing. Toby had only two secrets; one was that he tried to avoid the brakes at all costs; he would gear down and slow to every stop, gently rolling his riders to a fluid halt as if he knew every road to the millimeter. The other secret he kept to himself.
The light in the very back of the Toby’s bus flickered with each ripple in the road. The buzzing of the wheels was amplified by the absence of warm bodies on the bus and the flickering light added a certain drama to Wayne and Randy’s conversation. They were the only two passengers on the bus that night. They seemed bonded by their odd experience in the terminal and sat with their knees touching.
They didn’t notice that the back of Toby’s head barely moved with the bumps in the road or that he never touched the brake pedal. They didn’t notice that the bus, aside from them, was completely empty. They didn’t notice the time or how tired they were or that they had absolutely nothing in common, they never discussed why Randy had left his job in mid-shift and boarded a bus for Franklin Idaho and they didn’t even notice that their knees were touching.
Randy told Wayne stories about the bus station and about his concept for the amusement park ride and for Vegas, Vegas and Wayne told stories about playing golf with Jack Nicholson and having sex with Tony Randal’s wife.
They still hadn’t talked about the bikers. Randy had evaded most of Wayne’s questions and Wayne wasn’t sure if he even wanted to know so he didn’t press the issue. He knew that Randy had seen them before but for some reason wouldn’t talk about it. At that moment he was just happy to have someone to talk to who didn’t care that he was a movie star.
“So you know a lot about the bible?” Wayne asked.
“Just Revelation,” said Randy, “I love the whole end of the world thing, plagues, pestilence, lakes of fire and what not. I’m pretty sure that the biblical concept of God is based on ancient sightings of U.F.Os. so I don’t invest too much spiritual energy in it - what about you, what do you know?”
Wayne took a deep breath; for his own protection, the window to his past was one that Wayne always kept firmly sealed, unfortunately, whether he liked it or not most of what he knew was stored behind it. He always had to take a deep breath before going there, like diving into a deep threatening pool that may keep him trapped forever.
After Wayne’s father was killed, his mother moved herself and Wayne to Arizona where they could get a fresh start and she could practice her own form of metaphysical healing. She set up shop in the little mountain town of Cornville, just outside of Sedona. There was no corn in Cornville but the better part of Northern Arizona in the late sixties was ripe with healers and people that came in need of curing in one form or another. There were crystal healers, pyramid healers, tarot healers, herbalists, Breathariens; there was even a couple who believed that watching them have sex would cure cancer. But Wayne’s mother Charlotte really seemed to have a gift. When she took your hand you could feel an energy, a very cleansing energy. Her eyes were two different colors, one blue, one amber, instantly giving the impression that she was somehow special.
She would never let Wayne watch any of her healing sessions but he would secretly listen outside the door for hours as she would delve into her clients dreams; dream analysis was her specialty and she thought that all of life’s answers were there, something Wayne had been ingrained with from a very early age. After his father’s death the nightly images stopped, something Wayne never told his mother. When she would ask, he would make up a dream so she wouldn’t be disappointed.
Like Wayne, she was very private and never remarried or even had any male friends after Wayne’s father. She hated him deeply for deceiving so many people in the name of healing; something that she held so sacred. She hated him for using her son to defraud and swindle people out of their hard earned money. She hated him for the years of abuse and degradation; and most of all she hated herself for loving him.
Wayne exhaled heavily, finally answering Randy. “I guess I don’t know much about anything.” he sighed.
Wayne closed his eyes and a half smile crept across his mouth, he had gone through that forbidden window for the first time in many years. Maybe he was already getting better; maybe being a regular person would be good for him, get him in touch with who he really was. Maybe he would finally find himself. Wayne leaned back in his seat and fell asleep.
Arizona loomed large outside the buss’ long flat windshield. Toby always loved coming down the long grade that opened up into that desert. It felt like he was descending into a great ocean filled with strange delights and hidden treasures. Toby had run the same route for twenty years and still he looked forward to that moment. He always tried to plan on hitting the grade at dawn so he could see the new sun paint it’s way across the landscape. He never tired of it. The sun crept painfully under Wayne’s eyelids, red from only two hours sleep and eighteen years of Hollywood parties. The bus idled at a small bench-stop outside Tuscan. With his shoulder propping up Randy’s greasy head, Wayne slid his last cigarette from behind his ear and with trembling fingers he straightened it out, lit it, then quickly plucked it from his mouth as Toby glanced back at him. He held the smoke in his lungs until Toby turned his eyes back to the road. Wayne snapped his shoulder out from under Randy’s head and leaned down behind the seat for another drag.
Randy woke up hard, but ready to share his dreams. “Oh man. I dreamed about this badger - or a hedgehog,” he yawned, “I was picking avocados - that must represent L.A. - and they’d dissolve in my hands so that I just had a basket full of pits. And my eyes were blue but I wasn’t really me. I had a third arm that kept punching me in the side. And my mom was there but she didn’t have any arms.”
Wayne closed his eyes again, trying to trick his body into believing it was still asleep. “Why a badger,” Wayne asked closing his eyes tighter, trying to block out the light, “what do you think the badger was - was it me - was I the badger? Are you sure it was a badger and not a hedgehog?”
“It was a badger. If it was a hedgehog, I would have said hedgehog. It’s the details that matter Wayne - remember that” Randy was emphatic, “you got another smoke?” he asked. “This is my last one,” said Wayne as he held the smoldering butt under his seat, something flashed through his mind: I dreamed too! He practically yelled. “I dreamed I was swimming with Tim Burton - and Tony Bennett was shooting at me with a bee-bee gun - and he was singing that Beatle’s song - that instrumental piece of crap that they all wrote together.
“Flying.” Randy added.
“Yes - thank you! Why does no one else remember that song?”
Wayne was overwhelmed that something had penetrated the black backdrop of his sleep.
“Because nobody’s paying attention Wayne - we covered that. I’m paying attention and nobody else is. Was he singing it or humming it - cause it didn’t have any lyrics?”
Wayne thought. “I don’t remember.”
“Think!” Randy said. He was disproportionately irritated. “Details Wayne! - details, he continued, “what do you think life is? You think you can just go through life overlooking important details. Pay attention.”
Randy tried to hum a few bars of ‘Flying’ but wasn’t able to come up with the melody. “I gotta pee,” said Randy, giving up on the song. As he climbed over Wayne’s legs to get to the isle, he snatched the cigarette from between Wayne’s fingers. Wayne was too enthralled to react, he just wanted to go over his dream again and again, memorizing it in case it was just a fluke; he wanted to harness that multidimensional feeling that only a dream can offer.
Right behind their seats, the bathroom door was ajar and buzzing with the rhythm of the idling bus engine. Randy took a long deep drag from Wayne’s cigarette and darted into the foul-smelling bathroom.
Wayne rested his head on the edge of the window and stared out at the vast Arizona dawn. Toby was outside tossing bags into the storage compartment under the bus. A young woman stood beside him dressed in layers of purple and pink and lavender; scarves and more scarves around her neck and a large purse that overflowed with sundries and snacks. She tried over and over to hand Toby her ticket, but he seemed in no hurry. Although having made a habit of avoiding eye contact with other human beings, Wayne was strangely compelled to stare. Finally Toby closed the baggage compartment doors, took the woman’s ticket and escorted her to the door of the bus.
Wayne smelled something foul behind him and reached back to slam the bathroom door the rest of the way closed. “Yo - there’s no light in here - and no ventilation,” Randy yelled, gagging from behind the bathroom door.
Wayne started to get visibly nervous as the doors to the bus squeaked open and the young woman stepped up the stairs. He squirmed in his seat and slipped into his sunglasses. As she scanned around the empty bus, she didn’t even consider the other fifty three empty seats; she plopped down right next to Wayne and started talking before she’d even hit the seat. “Do you mind if I sit here ‘til we’re out of Arizona? My husband might be following me - ex-husband as of midnight last night. Jonathan T. Bains, the most boring man on earth - but as it turns out also quite psychotic - something you don’t find out about someone until you get caught screwing the pool boy in the cabana room. Him - not me. He’s totally straight though - just so you don’t get the wrong idea about him. So what’s your story?” She paused for a short breath. “Something wrong with your eyes? Did you just have those drops put in or something? I’m Violet.”
Wayne couldn’t think of a thing to say. He could only stare. She had crystal blue eyes and mousy blond hair, nothing much to look at but she ripped the breath from Wayne’s lungs. One of her eyes was just slightly crossed, giving Wayne the impression that she was interested yet detached. She had an accent that Wayne thought he recognized; probably Northern Kentucky, he thought but mid-western non the less. Wayne prided himself on being able to tell where people were from. But he couldn’t take his eyes off of her mouth. It wasn’t a big full mouth that he normally thought of as sensuous, but he knew it would fit perfectly with his. Randy came out of the bathroom to see that his seat had been taken but was pleasantly surprised to see Violet; as pleased as he would have been to see any woman. “That’s my seat but it’s okay, I’m tired of this guy anyway. I’m Randy.” As Randy shook her hand he found it very difficult to let go, she had a magnetic quality and an energy that made people instantly care what she thought about them. Wayne tried to get a word in, “and I’m...”
Randy cut him off. “That’s Wayne - he’s gay.”
Violet took Wayne’s hands apologetically in hers. “I’m so stupid,” Violet said, “I hope you weren’t offended by what I said before about my husband and the pool boy. And in his defense, he was probably a pool ‘man’ but he’s Venezuelan so he didn’t have much body hair. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” She stopped talking for a moment as a sour look came over her face. “What’s that smell?”
Randy kicked the bathroom door closed. “I’m not gay.” Wayne finally said.
“Now you think I’m homophobic,” she said, “ well I’m not - look.” Violet pulled Wayne into her by the back of the head and kissed him with as much tongue as she could muster. “See, now I could have whatever you have and I don’t care.” Suddenly she broke down crying.
Randy pulled a dirty handkerchief from his back pocket and handed it to her. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I kissed a fagot.” She cried.
Randy knelt down beside her.
Despite the fact that he had just been completely degraded, Wayne was enraptured and reeling from Violet’s condescending kiss; it seemed to have awakened something in him that had been sleeping for quite a long time. His head spun as he was whisked back to a sultry night in Ohio in nineteen seventy nine; back to the night he kissed his first love. They sat holding hands on a warm concrete fountain that was holding onto the heat from a long day in the sun. It was one o’clock in the morning in late September, Wayne had snuck Mary out of her parent’s house for late night cigarette and a half bottle of Jack Daniels left over from a Jimmy Buffett concert they had been to the night before.
He had loved her since the moment he saw her but was never able to kiss her. He had kissed dozens of girls, it wasn’t that; it was just that she was different. He knew that once he kissed her, that no kiss would ever be the same, and he was right. That one kiss, that one night, would spoil him for the rest of his life. He missed her every day, the way people do when they drift apart but their love never really dies. The further his life took him away from hers the more he dreamed of her and the more perfect she became. Wayne forced himself back. He was afraid of what would happen if he thought about her for too long.
Something about Violet caused everyone around her to become empathetic; people could sense her pain and sense that something was deeply wrong with her that they would never be able to know or want to know. Randy put his hand on her shoulder and tried to console her. “Hey it’s okay - he’s not really gay. I just said that. I got confused - and insecure. I’m extremely messed up.” He explained.
She composed herself and turned to Wayne, her face wet with tears. “You’re not gay?”
“No.” Wayne smiled.
Violet’s voice continued to tremble. “Well you sure kiss like it.”
Wayne’s face turned red. He stammered around in his head for something to cover an emotion that he’d had very little experience with. “First of all I wasn’t kissing you,” he said, “ you were kissing me. Second of all I just woke up. And third of all I don’t even know you - you can’t kiss people you don’t know.”
Violet playfully pulled one of her many scarves up over her face. “Hey I’ve kissed dead guys that were better than that.”
Wayne’s experience with women had never left him on the defensive; any woman he ever wanted, he got, no questions asked. He was Wayne Mackey Jr, a movie star, an icon and the fantasy of every woman that had ever heard his name; the ‘Sexiest Man Alive’ according to People Magazine. “Look, I was just sitting here.” He barked.
By force of habit, Wayne pulled his sunglasses off knowing he could always rely on his fame. A strange look came over Violet as she finally realized who Wayne was.
“You’re Wayne Mackey,” she said as Wayne finally smiled, “you are the worst actor I’ve ever seen.”
Violet moved across the isle and slid over to the window seat and stared outside. She dug into her purse up to her elbow until she finally came up with an eyelash curler. She wiggled one of her lashes between the rubber pinchers and squeezed the levers hard, holding them tightly together.
Randy came to Wayne’s defense. “Yeah well, he quit. He’s not Wayne Mackey Jr. anymore, he’s just Wayne Mackey Jr. now.”
“We’ll see,” she said, as she released one eyelash and went in for the other, repeating the procedure. “And by the way,” she bragged, “the dead guy wasn’t dead when I started kissing him.”
The bus lurched forward, squeaking and whining as Toby ran through the gears then it pulsed forward with a steady hum over the Arizona highway.
Wayne watched Violet as she curled her other eyelash, memorizing her profile. Maybe it was the rejection, he thought, or maybe the confusion and emotional upheaval that his decision to leave Hollywood had brought to him and the thousands of people who depended on him for their livelihood; but it was something, he felt something. That was it, he realized, he felt something. He finally felt something.
Wayne’s memories began to ebb and flow, coming and going fluidly, he wasn’t feeling the urgent need to repress that had become so habitual over the years. He recalled the first time he had ever seen the ocean on a family trip to Florida when he was about five. It rained the first two days of the trip and Wayne remembered sitting by the window of the small beachfront motel for hours waiting for the sun to break through. His father had given him a shovel and a pail before they had left home and all Wayne wanted to do, like so many children of the sixties was to dig all the way to China; he talked about it for the entire car trip. The second the rain stopped on the third day, Wayne ran to the edge of the water and began to dig; he had never felt happier. As he dug deeper and deeper, the more water would fill the hole. He used the pail to bail the water, but the more he bailed, the more the hole would fill up until finally the ocean overwhelmed it. That was how he felt at that moment; overwhelmed as all of the feelings that he’d forced himself to push down for so many years were welling up to the surface and that there may be no way now to stop them.
Wayne’s cell-phone rang. He already knew who it was as he pulled the phone from his pocket like a gunslinger. “Hi Allen,” he said, as he looked back at Randy.
Allen had been Wayne’s agent at William Morris for the last fifteen years and had single-handedly made him a star. Allen was crushed when Wayne made his decision to leave and it wasn’t about the money, although Wayne would be costing him millions of dollars. Allen wasn’t that way, he’d always looked out for Wayne’s well being and always tried to keep him on the straight and narrow; in fact two years before, in order to protect Wayne from an embarrassing and potentially career ending scandal, Allen spent two months in jail for possession of narcotics, a fire-arm and a few other incidentals, confessing to a spree of weekend crimes that Wayne had committed. Nobody ever knew that Allen had served Wayne’s time and Allen never spoke of it, to Wayne or anyone.
Wayne listened for a moment before answering. “A comeback - I’ve only been gone for half a day .” Wayne’s eyes got big and he took a deep breath, “how much?” he waited to hear the offer again, “wow, that’s very tempting.” Wayne heard Randy clear his throat. He looked back to the seat behind him where Randy was shaking his head disapprovingly. Wayne took another deep breath and swallowed hard, “but I’m not coming back, I’m sorry Allen.” Wayne listened, “and the jet?”
Randy reached over the seat, yanked the cell-phone out of Wayne’s hand and threw it out the window of the bus. The phone skimmed across the highway where it was crushed by an oncoming car. Wayne watched as his phone and what was left of his career disintegrated into the asphalt.
For a moment Randy thought Wayne was going to strike him but Wayne’s eyes softened as he stared lovingly into Randy’s face. Wayne had a very wonderful and unfamiliar feeling come over him, knowing that someone actually cared about him and not who he was or what he was worth. Something happened to him that he wasn’t sure had ever happened; tears well up in his eyes and a sense of freedom washed over him. He had never been free, or at least never felt free, always living for someone or something other than his heart. “Thanks.” Wayne said, as he leaned over the seat to give Randy an awkward hug.
“What kind of jet? Asked Randy.
“Twenty-first Century Gulf Stream,” Wayne sighed, “with a pilot and a personal chef...and a doctor.”
“A doctor.” Randy said, impressed.
“That’s a big perk,” Wayne explained, “Unprecedented.”
Violet couldn’t help but chime in. “What are you afraid of ...Wayne? Is it the money, the planes, the women, death? What drives a person to throw their life down the sewer and give up fame, fortune and success? What is that?” She asked.
“He was in a box. He had to get out.” Randy explained.
Violet became suddenly annoyed. “You can’t get out of a box in your own jet? You’re on a fucking bus.”
Wayne turned to Randy for reassurance. “Can I get out of the box in my own jet?”
“No! No. The jet’s just another box. You need to become part of your own solution Wayne.” Randy asserted.
“What the hell does that mean?” Barked Violet, now even more annoyed.
“It means he can’t be a part of his own problem.” Said Randy.
“That’s the same thing!” Violet yelled.
Wayne jumped in. “Hey leave him alone, he makes sense.”
“And what’s your point of reference - Hollywood?” Violet asked.
There was a loud thud from the front of bus as it jerked to a violent stop. Violet’s purse tumbled into the isle, it’s diverse contents spraying in all directions. Toby, Wayne and Randy ran out and around to the front of the bus.
A dead horse was laying on it’s side with one eye wide open staring at the sun. Both the front legs had been crushed and twisted grotesquely backward and a large shattered bone in it’s right hind leg had shot through the skin, oozing steaming marrow onto the hot highway. About a hundred yards in front of the bus was a jack-knifed truck and a horse trailer with the doors swung wide open.
Still unaware of what had happened, Violet collected as much of her belongings as she could and stuffed them back into her purse. She pulled down one of the windows and poked her head out into the hot dry desert air. She began to scream with unbridled despair as she witnessed the scene outside. She ran out and around to where the horse lay dead and began to vengefully kick the front of the bus. Wayne and Randy restrained her and took her around to the stairs where they sat her down and tried to get her calm. She suddenly turned eerily quiet; she walked to the back of the bus and sat on the bumper. She looked up into the sun for just a moment longer than she should have then rubbed her eyes. She took off one of her shoes and then the other, then slowly and systematically took off every strip of her clothing and walked naked across the highway into the desert. Randy and Wayne could only stare as her bare pale figure grew smaller and smaller, slowly disappearing; blending into the desert landscape. Wayne looked down and shook a small scorpion off of his boot. The angry little bug scurried under a rock and disappeared. Wayne looked up and noticed Randy staring at him. He looked Randy deep in the eyes. They shared a long gaze, the way people do when they meet for the first time but feel like they’ve know each other forever.
Violet had covered about a quarter mile before she finally sat down cross-legged in the hot sand. She just sat.
Wayne and Randy went back around to the front of the bus where they were met by Toby walking toward them. Two Mexican men in white cowboy hats and a very fat woman were in the process of dragging the dead horse back up the highway toward the trailer, inches at a time.
“We’ve got a bent axle,” Toby explained, “it’s gonna take about four hours for a repair crew to get out. They only have one truck and they’re on a call about three hundred miles from here - sorry - I’ve got some water underneath and some emergency rations if you all get hungry.” He saw Violet sitting out in the distance. “And you’ll take care of her? I think she’s had a hard time of it.”
Toby knew people. He could look into a person’s eyes and tell you whether they were hungry or tired or sad or if they’d been molested as a child. It was the secret he never told anyone.
“You tell her that horse was dead before we hit it,” he said, “she’s got enough blame in her already.”
A desert thunderstorm spread across the sky and within moments began pouring a torrential rain. Lightning struck the dark red mountains in the distance, dancing and skipping across the iron-rich mesas like incandescent marionettes. Tiny puddles began to grow quickly into large reflective lakes and the highway rapidly disappeared under a river of water.

SILENT RIDER
CHAPTER THREE The Moth

As the sun dipped below the mountains and the last rain cloud disappeared across the endless sky the bus and it’s passengers sat like a giant grey whale, beached and dying on a deserted island.
The front end of the bus was up on jacks and both front wheels were taken off, stacked one on top of the other. A large, heavy-duty tow truck was parked alongside the bus; one man sat in the passenger seat while the driver stood in front of the bus in the wet sand that had covered the highway. Toby was in a heated argument with the driver. Wayne and Randy watched from inside the bus where they were playing a game of cribbage on a small pull out table between their seats.
Randy’s father had been a championship cribbage player, having won a world tournament in nineteen sixty and Randy had taken a tournament from him when he was ten years old, making Randy, according to him, the official cribbage champ of the world. He carried a cribbage board wherever he went, teaching the ignorant and crushing anyone who thought they might beat him and take his title. As laid back as Randy was, and as disorganized as his mind had become over the years, he was a stickler for the rules of cribbage; every muggins, any pushed peg, any count that wasn’t presented in the correct order, Randy would come unglued, making it very difficult to find a partner with as much passion for the game or tolerant enough to put up with Randy’s rants. Wayne was up to the challenge; countless empty hours on movie sets had made him not only a worthy cribbage opponent but a genuine master of the game. Randy loved it. The unofficial championship would go back and forth for several hours.
Violet had taken refuge in the buss’ tiny bathroom; still unable to gather her emotions; she just sat crying, trying to physically purge herself of her grief. She was loosely draped in Wayne’s oversized coat that she would periodically using as a tissue.
As the argument outside the bus became more heated, Wayne and Randy were distracted from their card counting, taking notice as they watched the tow-truck driver throw his hands up, storm back to his truck and drive away.
Toby bumped his way through the open door of the bus lugging three suitcases.
Violet finally came out of the bathroom draped in Wayne’s coat. She didn’t make eye contact with anyone as she sat down hard.
“Well - they can’t fix us and they can’t tow us” Toby said, “I brought your bags in if anybody needs anything, we’ll be here the night.”
Violet looked up at him, her eyes silently dancing with hate.
“I love horses too,” Toby said, “I have two at home - Appaloosas. Sally and Joe. I love those horses more than I love my wife - and she knows it too. Tells me I should go live in the stables - sometimes I think she’s right.” Toby and his wife hadn’t spoken many kind words to one another in many years; his time on the road and her massive weight gain had put an irreversible strain on their marriage. He dropped their bags in the middle of the isle and went and sat behind the steering-wheel. Violet grabbed her suitcase and flipped it up on to one of the seats. She hesitated, waiting for the men to read her mind. “Could I get some privacy?” She finally asked, not able to look up.
Wayne reached into the side pocket of his suitcase and slid out a box of Cuban cigars, one of the many illicit privileges that he would be giving up on his quest for anonymity. “C’mon boys, I’ve got some Cubans that I need to get rid of.”
The three men filed out of the bus and disappeared into the setting sun. Violet waited for the silence; and then it came, interrupted only intermittently by the occasional buzzing of a tiny moth bouncing harmlessly against the buss’ small overhead light.

SILENT RIDER
CHAPTER FOUR The Horse

The Arizona sun loomed large just above the night before descending gently into twilight. To Wayne, Randy and Toby, the bus looked like just a dark speck silhouetted on the horizon. They’d wandered almost a mile into the desert where they stood ceremonially in a circle.
Wayne opened the box and passed a cigar to Toby and one to Randy. Toby pressed his nose into the cigar and took in the smell of the tightly woven broad brown-green Cuban tobacco. Randy licked the end of his as if it were a behemoth joint and pulled the outer leaf into a point with his lips. As if he had done it a thousand times before, Wayne slipped a cutter from his right front pocket and neatly clipped the end of his cigar. He searched his other pocket and found his diamond encrusted Cartier lighter; at the same time Toby reached down into his sweaty sock and slipped out a match; the strike anywhere variety with a white tip that he unsuccessfully struck on his shoe, fizzling the sulfur into a soggy puff of white smoke. Wayne lent him a tall elegant flame which Toby gladly drew up creating a heavenly pungent cloud. Toby was overcome with a pleasure he’d dreamed of but never known. He looked up through the fog of Cuban smoke and saw the bus in the distance, “I’ll be damned.” he said.
They all stared at the bus, awestruck as it flickered like a jewel that had been magically brought to life, a glowing ruby painted against the pale desert twilight.
From front to back, the rails under the windows of the bus had been lined with lit candles; hundreds of candles, each one different than the next. The windows in the back of the bus were draped with Violet’s scarves, all in shades of pink, purple and lavender. She had created a shrine. She would rather have run, but there was no place to run to. Death seemed to follow Violet wherever she went.
Violet’s mother watched in horror as Violet’s twin sister bled to death in the delivery room. Both Violet’s parents were killed in a train derailment a year later to the day, leaving Violet to be raised by four different sets of foster parents until she was fifteen. She met Rigo Santos on her sixteenth birthday, 1988 and was pregnant with his child in less than a month. Rigo was a sexy Brazilian boy who dabbled in gangs and petty crime. He and Violet loved to take long dangerous rides on Rigo’s motorcycle. They would get drunk and stoned and speed through the canyon roads of the Smoky mountains, fearlessly challenging every curve. They made love several times a day throughout Violet’s pregnancy. Their baby was stillborn and Rigo was killed in a drive-by shooting two days later. She was married three times by the time she was twenty two, burring all three husbands; one in a car wreck, one from a drug overdose and one just died in his sleep, he was eighty one. Her life was now imbued with the sense that she was a catalyst for death.
Toby, Wayne and Randy filed into the bus. Violet sat cross-legged on the floor writing in her journal, something she did to transpose her pain. Toby walked slowly toward her; he could feel her need to forgive him. Violet threw her arms around him. “It wasn’t your fault.” She cried.
“I know baby. I know,” he said, “sometimes things just happen that’s all. Things just happen.”
Violet flipped through the pages of her journal. “I need to read this out loud,” she said, “does anybody mind?”
Nobody dared say no. Violet read her poem out loud.

“I rode through fields of wheat and storm.
My best friend strode beneath me torn.
To carry me his pleasured joy.
Careful not to destroy his spirit.
He loved me like his mother. A gentle soul.
I gave him everything I had.
But couldn’t save him. He was gone.
I cried all night and months and years.
My tears went dry before my sorrow.”

Everyone stood for a moment in a sad silence. Violet closed her journal.

SILENT RIDER
CHAPTER FIVE The Fly

The bus parked along the roadside cast a cool shadow over a tiny mom-and-pop diner on the outskirts of Winslow Arizona. Toby had been able to repair the front end well enough to get the bus back on the road and now struggled outside to get an old pay-phone to work so he could give the bus company his status. Inside, Wayne, Randy and Violet were cramped into one of three red-leather booths perusing their greasy menus. “So what is it exactly about my acting that you don’t like?” Wayne finally asked. He had obviously been brooding about it for some time.
Violet thought for a moment. She kept licking her finger and wiping the grease stains from her menu. “Your problem is that you have no soul,” she said flatly, “most people on the planet have one - but you don’t. You are a soulless man.”
A strange cold feeling swept over Wayne as the smell of coriander and Violets words blended and drifted briefly through the diner; he knew that he had never loved, he knew that he could be cruel and detached but he had never been described (by anyone else) as a soulless man. With barely enough room for the waitress to move between the tables, she squeezed through to take their order. Too many children, bad genes, decades of manual labor and the Arizona sun had made her old beyond her years. She flipped open her order-pad and pulled a pencil from somewhere under her disheveled hair. “What’s for lunch?” She asked.
Randy was starving. “Cheeseburger,” he barked, “and do you have curly fries?” “We have straight fries,” she said without smiling, “what about you missy?”
Nobody had ever called Violet missy and she didn’t take very well to it. “Do you have anything vegetarian? She asked.
The waitress cocked her head and lowered her glasses. “We have lettuce on the hamburgers.” She said.
“What kind of lettuce?” Asked Violet, trying to find a button to push.
“Plain - old - lettuce.” She said, unphased.
“You mean iceberg.” Violet said rudely.
“This is Arizona honey,” she snickered, “I don’t think you’ll find any icebergs around here.”
The Mexican fry-cook laughed through his bushy black moustache.
Violet knew that her bitterness had been all together outmatched so she decided to give up. “I’ll have a cup of piping hot water.” She said staring down at her menu.
The waitress looked over at Wayne who had forgotten to wear any sort of disguise. “How ‘bout you sugar?” She asked.
“I’ll have a club sandwich with extra bacon please.” He said, looking her straight in the eye.
“Hey, you’re Wayne Mackey Jr., Danny,” she yelled to the fry-cook, “it’s Wayne Mackey Jr., the movie star. You were so good in Day of Judgment.” She swooned.
“No! No he wasn’t,” shouted Violet, “he was horrific in that film. Did you know that he was supposed to be an officer in the Royal Air Force? He slapped on a Scottish accent - the worst ever by the way to hide that fact that he has absolutely no talent, an abysmal sense of truth and zero chemistry with any other soul-carrying human being on the planet.” She was livid.
“Could I get a coke with that?” Wayne asked.
“Anything for you sugar.” The waitress smiled at Wayne as big as she could, flexing facial muscles that had long since atrophied. She struggled to muster some sexuality. “You pay no mind to her,” she whispered, snapping an angry glare in Violet’s direction, “you’re the sexiest man alive - I saw it in the People’s Magazine.”
Wayne seemed more aroused by Violet’s insults than by the Waitress’ attempts at seduction.
“I quit making movies,” he explained, “and I’m going to Idaho.”
The waitress and the fry-cook simultaneously broke out laughing. “Why is that funny?” Wayne asked, but their laughter drowned him out; a strange surreal laughter that took on an obtuse dream-like quality as if the moment had been suspended and put into slow-motion.
Toby looked discouraged as he hung up the phone outside. He opened the diner’s wood framed screen-door. Fitted with a small rusted bell and woven with duct-tape and fishing line, the door barely held together as Toby let the wind slam it shut behind him. The concussion of the slamming door sent a loud crack through the diner that broke the spell of Wayne’s delusory moment. Wayne shook his head, and rattled his brain back to reality. Toby squeezed into the booth next to Violet who rhythmically dipped a worn out tea-bag and her fingers into her glass of ice-water, having given up on the notion of having hot tea.
Toby sneezed into his hands, having some sort of allergic reaction to something. “Well,” he said, “bus number sixty eight is out of commission.” “What does that mean?” Asked Randy.
“That means that they send another bus to get you and they tow this one ‘and me’ back to the yard.” Toby shoved his hands deep into his pockets and his lips disappeared into his face. It was his emotional shell and he looked very out of place inside of it. “Our bus works just fine.” Randy said as he looked hopefully around the diner for some sign that his food was being cooked.
“The law says they gotta take it back,” Toby explained, “if you do repair work on your own bus, you can only travel sixty miles on that repair, then they have to come and get it. That’s the law.” “I don’t want another bus - I like this bus,” Randy complained bitterly, “and I like you.” “Well I’m flattered son, but the law’s the law.” Toby said.
“How much for the bus?” Asked Wayne.
“It’s not my bus.” Said Toby. Toby didn’t really believe that. He knew that the bus belonged to the company but he always thought of it as his; like a member of his family and his most loyal companion.
“Then I’ll give you ten thousand dollars to drive us to,” Wayne turned to Randy, “ where are we going?” He asked.
“Franklin Idaho.” Randy said proudly.
“Ten thousand dollars to drive us to Franklin Idaho.” Wayne said.
“It’s not my bus.” Toby said again.
“Twenty thousand,” Wayne said, “and you can turn over a million miles.”
“I’m thirty two days from retirement.” Toby said.
“Fifty thousand.” Wayne said.
“Done.” Said Toby as he took Wayne’s hand and shook it firmly.
The waitress arrived with their food. They ate in relative silence. They all shared a destiny now. A common thread ran between them that they weren’t yet aware of. Their lives hadn’t just haphazardly crossed and they all sensed that soon they’d see how their fates would twine together. Wayne threw two hundred-dollar-bills on the table and thanked the waitress. The words ‘keep the change’ probably never had the impact that they had that day. Her severely dehydrated body mustered a tear of genuine gratitude as she watched Wayne leave the diner.
The bus rolled down the highway with Violet’s scarves filtering out the open windows.
As if suspended in time, the once cascading wax from Violet’s candles hung like icicles from the ledges of the bus windows. Toby was focused as he maneuvered the bus through the twisting curves of a mountainous Northern Arizona highway. Even with his headphones firmly over his ears, his classic Martha Ray leaked through into the bus. Violet laid day-dreaming across Wayne and Randy’s laps as they dozed in their seats.
The frantic sound of a car-horn honking roused them from their light sleep. They looked out the window. Toby couldn’t hear a thing and continued to deliberately navigate the mountain pass.
Blasting it’s horn, a topless yellow Corvette convertible swung along-side the bus into the oncoming traffic lane. Violet was horrified as she saw the driver of the car. “That’s Mr. Bains”...she hesitated.... “my husband!” She awkwardly announced.
He pointed at Violet while waving his hand up and down, trying to get her to open the buss’ window. He managed to stay with the bus curve for curve while not taking his eyes off of Violet. Randy struggled to get the window to go down just about a foot, allowing Violet to poke her head out sideways. She yelled across the highway. “Go away!” She yelled.
He just stared at her as he whipped the Vette around another sharp curve.
“You’re going to kill yourself!” She yelled again.
Mr. Bains reached under his seat, pulled a gun and aimed it straight at Violet. Wayne and Randy ducked down below the glass and tried to pull Violet down with them but her head was stuck, wedged in the window.
With it’s emergency flashers blinking, Toby saw a stalled black Cadillac about a hundred yards ahead in the on-coming traffic lane. He briefly glanced to his left to see that it was a disabled Hearse sitting in the middle of the lane with it’s hood up. He saw that there was no one in the Hearse as he passed by, he then quickly refocused on the road as he approached another curve.
As Mr. Bains raised the gun to shoot, his car collided head-on into the Hearse, practically disintegrating the Corvette on impact. The sound was explosive and terrifying. Wayne, Randy and Violet watched in horror as a casket was ejected from the back of the Hearse, careening end-over-end down the side of a steep mountain and disappearing into a deep ravine. The bus took another sharp curve and the horrific scene vanished behind them.
Toby briefly stopped whistling the tune he was listening to on his head-phones. He glanced back for a brief check on his passengers, oblivious to what had just taken place.
“Everybody awake back there?” He asked.
In shock, they all quietly nodded.
“We’ll be in Flagstaff in about five minutes,” he continued, “they’ve got a nice little tavern there, with a waitress named Daisy. Don’t get me wrong now, we just talk, but it’s good talk; music, poetry, philosophy. Listen, my wife’s a wonderful woman but she thinks Plato’s a big dog at Disneyland.” He chuckled to himself.
A small man in a black suit stood hopefully by the side of the road as bus number sixty eight drew closer. He was Jake Alcot, a mortician and, unbeknownst to him, the owner of a mangled Hearse and a missing casket. Toby stopped the bus and opened the doors to let the man on. “That your Cadillac?” Toby asked.
“Ironically, yes, “Jake said, “the Hearse has a long and tempestuous relationship with Cadillac,” he explained, “sure they were prestigious - that was before the Germans got into the game. Now it’s Mercedes all the way. You know what they say, ‘in with the old and out with the new.’ That’s an old morticians joke. I’m Jacob Alcot. Jake.” “Name’s Toby. Climb abroad Jake - that’s an old bus-driver’s joke.” Jake didn’t get it.
Jacob Alcot was very famous in his own rite. The Hebrew mortician of the rich and famous with an impeccable record of timely delivery and proper Jewish tradition. He had been doing his work since nineteen forty seven and was the but of many cruel jokes throughout his prestigious career. The one that stuck in his mind was, ‘ever hear of Jake Alcot, he’s buried more jews than Hitler.’ It was always told in good fun and always by a Gentile. Jake only took on clients with fame or money; everyone from Marcel Proust to JD Salinger. He joked a lot, probably to counter the constant parade of death to which he always had a front-row seat.
“Do you think you could take me into Flagstaff,” he asked, “I need a new water pump pretty quickly. We have to bury my passenger today. You know us Jews.”
“No I don’t,” said Toby, “but I’ll take your word on it. Flagstaff’s only a few miles up. I’m sure your passenger will be fine.” Little did Toby know that Jake’s ‘passenger’ was at the bottom of a two thousand foot ravine.
Violet was shaking uncontrollably. Death had caught up with her once again as well and again it seemed that there would be no outrunning it. She had an all-together different defense. All she knew how to do was to detatch; not get too close to anyone, not to love. She thought if she could last the journey that her salvation would come in Franklin Idaho. Somehow she knew that she could start over and that her life’s bane would be lifted. At least she hoped so.
A small house-fly came in through the open window of the bus and landed in Violet’s hair.

INT. BUS STATION - MIDNIGHT

Ed Mackey Jr. sits quietly behind black sunglasses waiting for his bus. His sleeves roll down past his wrists to the base of his thumbs and his frayed bell-bottoms drag well below his boot heels. A three-day beard and the wide brim of a beat-up cowboy hat shades all but just a hint of his perfect chin. He believes that he’s mastered a consummate disguise but ironically his determination to be anonymous makes him the target of every eye. He stares straight ahead, pretending not to be noticed. He lights a short filterless cigarette with the tiny butt of one burned down to nothing, flicking what’s left to the ground in a silent shower of sparks. He tries to ignore the pain; secretly rubbing his singed fingers together.

From a distant corner of the terminal, Ed spots a woman approaching; an ordinary woman drawn toward him like a giddy bride - waving a pen and an old bus ticket stub like a bouquet. Like a million times before, Ed pretends to remain unaware until that awkward moment of unwanted contact. She stands before him as if to offer her virtue. Ed snatches the pen and the old bus ticket stub from her hand and hides them under his coat. He pulls her down by her dress onto the bench beside him. He speaks to her softly, making sure no one else hears.

ED
How did you know who I was?

WOMAN
You wore that hat in Whiskey Train. And those
were the glasses from Risk Factor. You were
so funny in that movie.

ED
It wasn’t a comedy.

WOMAN
I’d be honored to have your autograph. Could you
make it to ‘my true love, Donna, love Ed Mackey.’

He takes out the pen, signs her ticket stub and hands it back to her, making sure that no one sees him do it.

ED
I’d really rather not have anybody know I’m here.

WOMAN
Maybe you should stop wearing clothes from
your movies. Listen to me - telling Ed Mackey Jr.
what to do.

ED
No you have a good point. Too recognizable.
I always tried to tell them my clothes were too
recognizable, that I should be the focus, not the
clothes - but they wouldn’t listen. That’s the
problem Donna - nobody listens.


Hearing Ed Mackey Jr. speak her name gets her very excited and nervous...and strangely possessive.

WOMAN
Who are you waiting for? Are you waiting for
someone?!

Ed counters her energy by becoming dead calm, something he’s mastered over the years of having fans get star-struck in his presence.

ED
No. I’m on the next bus. I’ve quit making movies
and I’m leaving L.A. - tonight.

WOMAN
Like in Runaway when you left Wall Street for
Marissa Tome. You were so strong.

ED
But this isn’t a movie.

WOMAN
If it were I’d be in an Ed Mackey movie. I’d
just die.

She practically passes out at the thought.

ED
I really don’t want anyone to know I’m here
so if you could just.....

The woman takes her prize and dashes off across the terminal to a far corner where her friend waits for her. The woman whispers to her friend and they both gaze dreamily in Ed’s direction. He pulls the brim of his hat down over his eyes, gets up and ambles over to the ticket window. Seth Molen, the ticket clerk sits in the small glass booth, just biding time until the next time he can get stoned. A thirty something adolescent, Seth has a certain depth about him but unfortunately he’s killed a good number of brain cells attaining it. Ed dejectedly pushes his ticket across the counter.

ED
I’d like to trade this ticket in.

SETH
Is there a problem?

ED
I just need to get on a different bus.

SETH
There’s no other bus to where you’re going?

ED
I don’t care, just get me another ticket.

SETH
Where to?

ED
(in a loud whisper)
Surprise me.

SETH
The next bus out ends up in Franklin Idaho on
... next Thursday. Number sixty-eight. Weather
won’t let us take you directly north - so you’ll
have to travel sixty-six to Oklahoma and then up
and around.

ED
How many people live in Franklin Idaho?

SETH
Not as many as in L.A.

ED
Sixty eight then.

Seth pushes the new ticket across the counter but pulls it back as Ed reaches for it.

Seth leans into the glass.

SETH
I know what you’re going through. It’s like a
box, man. It’s like a glass box that gets smaller
and smaller. Everybody’s watching and everybody
wants something. I know. You need to get out
of the box man.

ED
Can I just have my ticket?

Seth is insulted.

SETH
That’s another thirty six dollars.

Ed sees that he’s insulted him.

ED
Hey I didn’t mean to be an ass-hole,
it’s just that - you don’t know me.

SETH
But I was listening.

ED
I’m sorry.

SETH
You said nobody listens. Am I nobody?

ED
I’m just not used to dealing with regular people.
(he pulls down his sunglasses)
I’m a movie star. I was a movie star.

Ed takes off the glasses and points out the People Magazine on the stool next to Seth. Ed’s picture is on the cover as the ‘World’s Sexiest Man’. Seth is unimpressed. Ed slides two twenties across the counter.

SETH
So I should keep the change?

ED
Sure. I guess.

SETH
I’ll tell you when people listen - when they want
something - then they listen real good.

Seth picks up a microphone and through the feedback addresses the passengers in the terminal. He intentionally fakes enthusiasm as he stuffs Ed’s four dollar tip into his pocket.

SETH
May I have your attention please?

Everyone in the terminal gets quiet. Seth waits a good long time before he makes his announcement, savoring the power of the moment.

SETH
(continued)
Greyhound proudly announces the arrival of bus number
seven from Anaheim and we would now like to invite
you to board. The next stop is Las Vegas Nevada.
Bathrooms are at the back of the bus.

He releases the lever on the microphone with a high-pitched crack that seems to echo through the terminal forever. His professionalism turns off with the microphone as he slumps back
down in his chair waiting for the next bit of his soul to be snipped away by somebody who thinks they’re better than him.
Ed sits back down on the bench and pops open one of same People Magazines with his face on the cover and hides behind it as the remaining passengers board bus number seven for Las Vegas Nevada. He looks up just in time to see the bus pulling away and Donna’s heartbroken face in the last window in the back, the autographed ticket stub pressed up against the glass. He cautiously looks around to see that the terminal is empty. Ed yells out as if he’s yelling to an audience.

ED
Why did I ever want to be famous!?

SETH
They say that comes from a lack of attention as a
child.

ED
I’m sorry - I thought I was alone. And I didn’t mean
anything by that.

SETH
But who are ‘they’ anyway?

ED
I don’t know.

SETH
Bastards.

ED
Yea. Bastards.

SETH
That lady turned in her ticket to get on the same
bus that you would have been on.

ED
She did?

SETH
Yeah. And now you’re on a different bus. That’s
kind of.....

ED
Ironic.

SETH
No.


ED
Funny?

SETH
No.

ED
Pathetic.

SETH
Fucked up. It’s pretty fucked up.


Seth sadly sits back down in his chair. The unmistakable sound of several Harley-Davidson motorcycles rumbles up to the glass wall of the terminal that leads out to the busses. Seth cowers as five Harleys stop. The riders dismount in unison and stride deliberately to the glass. They stop in unison. The riders are menacing as they stand an even foot apart, staring coldly inside.

SETH
Uh-o.

Again in unison, the bikers lift their left hands and all point at Ed. Ed meekly points at himself to verify that it’s him they’re pointing at. They all nod (in unison.) Seth takes a deep breath - as if he knows something very strange is about to happen.

ED
Why are they pointing at me?

SETH
Maybe they’re fans.

ED
I don’t know. I don’t think so.

SETH
Maybe they’re the five horsemen of the apocalypse.

As though a spell had been removed, they break from their positions, mount their bikes and ride away.

CUT TO:


INT. BUS - NIGHT - 1:14 a.m.

Toby Wallace, an old-fashioned black gentleman in his late sixties is an old-school bus driver who believes in dedication and service - always professional, always courteous. Close to retirement, Toby’s a man who makes sure that all the rules are followed - and it shows.

The light in the very back of the bus flickers with each ripple in the road. The buzzing of the wheels is amplified by the absence of warm bodies and the flickering light adds unnecessary drama to Ed and Seth sitting side by side, knees touching, talking with the intensity of a real conversation.

ED
So you know a lot about the bible?

SETH
It’s like rub-adub-dub.

ED
Explain.

SETH
Rub-a-dub-dub three men in a tub and how
do you think they got there? The butcher
the baker the candlestick maker, they all
jumped out of a rotten potato. ‘Twas enough
to make a man stare.

ED
Is that really how that goes?

SETH
That’s really how it goes.

ED
That’s intense.

SETH
And we’re them.

ED
Who?

SETH
We’re the butcher and the baker. And this bus is the
tub. They all jumped out of a rotten potato - they all
jumped out of their scene like we jumped out of ours.

ED
I’m having second thoughts.

SETH
L.A. is the rotten potato - you had to jump out of it.
You did the right thing.

ED
‘Twas enough to make a man stare. People are always
staring at me.

SETH
I can see you dig.

ED
Who’s the candlestick maker.

SETH
I don’t know.

ED
Maybe it’s the bus driver.

SETH
It’s not the bus driver.

ED
Then who is it?

SETH
I don’t know.

ED
Why can’t it be the bus driver?

SETH
Cause he’s a bus driver - not a candlestick
maker.

ED
He’s not a candlestick maker.

SETH
No he’s not. And this is his rotten potato. He hasn’t
jumped out of it yet.

ED
So which one am I?

SETH
You’re both. I’m both. We’re both - both.

ED
How can that be?

SETH
The baker’s essence is to create and the butcher’s
essence is to destroy. They both provide
nourishment but they represent different ends
of the spiritual spectrum. You create - I destroy.
Yin and Yang. You’ve never killed anyone right?

ED
No.

SETH
See you and I are perfectly balanced. We know
that there’s only so much we can take - then we
snap and we gotta go the opposite way - like a
pendulum.

Ed looks puzzled.

ED
And what about the bus driver?

SETH
He’s just transporting the experience man.

ED
Wow. (Long pause) What passage is that from?

There’s a long awkward silence.

ED
Who did you kill?

SETH
Nobody special.

Ed sits back in his seat and takes a deep breath.

ED
So L.A.’s the rotten potato?

SETH
L.A. is the rottenest potato of ‘em all man.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. BUS - DAWN

The sun creeps painfully under Ed’s eyelids, red from only two hours sleep and ten years of Hollywood parties. The bus idles at a small bench-stop in Arizona. With his shoulder propping up Seth’s greasy head, Ed slides his last cigarette from behind his ear and with trembling fingers he straightens it out, lights it, then quickly plucks it from his mouth as Toby glances back at him. He holds the smoke in his lungs until Toby turns his eyes back to the road. Ed snaps his shoulder out from under Seth’s head to lean down behind the seat for another drag. Seth wakes up hard, but ready to share his dreams.

SETH
Oh man. I dreamed about this badger - or a
hedgehog. I was picking avocados - that must
represent L.A. - and they’d dissolve in my hands
so that I just had a basket full of pits. And my
eyes were blue. But I wasn’t really me. I had
a third arm that kept punching me in the side.
And my mom was there but she didn’t have any
arms.

ED
Why a badger? What do you think the badger was.
Was it me? Was I the badger?

SETH
It might have been a hedgehog. I don’t know.
You got another smoke?

ED
This is my last one. I dreamed I was swimming with
Tim Burton - and Tony Bennett was shooting at me with
a bee-bee gun - and he was singing that f’d up
Beatle’s song - that instrumental piece of shit that
they all wrote together.

SETH
Flying.

ED
Yes - thank you. Why does no one else remember
that song?

SETH
Was he singing it or humming it - cause it didn’t have
any lyrics.

ED
It was more like a scat.

SETH
A scat. That’s deep.

Ed presents Seth with his half smoked Camel.

SETH
I gotta pee.

Right behind their seats, the bathroom door is ajar and buzzing with the rhythm of the idling bus engine. Seth hands Ed’s smoke back to him, takes a deep breath and darts into the smelly bathroom.

Ed rests his head on the edge of the window and stares out at the vast Arizona dawn. Toby is outside tossing bags into the storage compartment under the bus. VIOLET BAINS, a young woman in her late twenties stands nervously beside him. She’s dressed in layers of purple and pink and violet; scarves and more scarves around her neck and a purse that overflows with sundries and snacks. She tries over and over to hand Toby her ticket, but he seems in no hurry.

Although having made a habit of avoiding eye contact with other human beings, Ed is strangely compelled to stare. Finally Toby closes the baggage compartment doors, takes Violet’s ticket and escorts her to the door of the bus. Ed smells something foul behind him and reaches back to slam the bathroom door the rest of the way closed.

SETH
Yo - there’s no light in here. And no ventilation.

Ed starts to get visibly nervous as the doors to the bus squeak open and Violet steps up the stairs. He squirms in his seat and slips into his sunglasses. She doesn’t even consider the other fifty three empty seats on the bus. She plops down right next to Ed and starts talking before she’s even in the seat.

VIOLET
Do you mind if I sit here ‘til we’re out of Arizona?
My husband might be following me - ex-husband
as of midnight last night. Jonathan T. Bains, the most
boring man on earth - but as it turns out also
quite psychotic - something you don’t find out
about someone until you get caught screwing
the pool boy in the cabana room. Him - not me.
He’s totally straight though - just so you don’t get the
wrong idea about him. So what’s your story?
Something wrong with your eyes. Did you
just have those drops put in or something?
I’m Violet.

Ed can’t think of a thing to say. Seth comes out of the bathroom to see that he’s been replaced but he’s pleasantly surprised by Violet.

SETH
That’s my seat but that’s okay. I’m Seth.

Seth shakes her hand and doesn’t let go.

ED
And I’m...

Seth interrupts him.

SETH
This is Todd - Todd Mantooth. He’s gay.

VIOLET
Oh I’m so stupid. I hope you weren’t offended
by what I said before about my husband - ex-husband
not being gay. My parents were insane. I don’t
know what’s wrong with me. What’s that smell.

Seth kicks the bathroom door closed.
ED
I’m not gay.

VIOLET
Now you think I’m racist against the gays. Well I’m
not. Look.
.
Violet pulls Ed into her by the back of the head and kisses him with as much tongue as she can muster.

VIOLET
See. Now I could have whatever you have and
I don’t care.

She breaks down crying.

SETH
What’s wrong?

VIOLET
I kissed a fagot.

Seth kneels down beside her.

SETH
Hey it’s okay. He’s not gay. I just said that.
I got confused - and insecure - I am extremely
messed up.

She composes herself.

VIOLET
You’re not gay?

ED
No.

VIOLET
Well you sure kiss like it.

ED
First of all I wasn’t kissing you - you were kissing
me. Second of all I just woke up. And third of all I
don’t even know you.

VIOLET
Hey I’ve kissed dead guys that were better than
that. You need help.

Ed whips his dark glasses off.

ED
Look, I was just sitting here.

VIOLET
You’re Ed Mackey. You are the worst actor I’ve
ever seen - you’re so wooden and detached. When I
saw you The Bleeding Heart I swear to God I laughed
my ass off through that whole movie.


ED
It wasn’t a comedy.

VIOLET
You suck. And now you’re sitting next to me on a bus.

ED
You know when I first saw you - out there - before
I knew you could speak, I thought to myself - now
there’s a girl I could really go for. She seems real.
She seems nice. She’s pretty.

Ed sits back smugly in his seat, thinking that he’s put her in her place.


VIOLET
You think I’d date an actor - even a good one?

ED
I don’t know - let’s see - you married a psychotic
bore - you catch him fucking a pool boy - you don’t
think he’s gay - you kiss dead guys. And I’ve known
you less than a minute. But I’m sure there’s more.
And I don’t suck.

VIOLET
You suck hard dude.

SETH
It doesn’t matter - he quit.

VIOLET
Who did you quit to?

ED
I didn’t quit to anyone - I just quit.


VIOLET
You have to quit to someone.

ED
If you’re a cashier.

VIOLET
I was a cashier - and I didn’t quit to anybody.

ED
What?

Violet digs through her purse and comes up with an eyelash curler. She wiggles one of her lashes between the rubber pinchers and squeezes the levers hard, holding them tightly together.

VIOLET
I may have mis-spoken when I said ‘pool boy’.
He was more of a pool man but I think he
was from Venezuela so in his defense he didn’t
have a lot of body hair.

She releases one eyelash and goes in for the other, repeating the procedure.

VIOLET
(continued)
And the dead guy wasn’t dead when I started
kissing him. Why am I explaining myself to you?

ED
I have no idea.

SETH
Your chakras are starting to open. You’ve
been oppressed by this husband for so long that
your chakras closed up and now they’re
opening and you can’t help it. Your caged
soul needs to purge all that baggage that you’ve
been accumulating. How long were you married?

VIOLET
Three days.

ED
That’s impressive.

VIOLET
Hey, those were three very long days.

The bus lurches forward, squeaking and whining as it runs through it’s gears then pulsing forward with a steady hum over the Arizona highway.

Ed’s cell-phone rings. He already knows who it is as he pulls it from his coat like a gun-slinger.

ED
(on the phone)
Hi Allen. (Pause) Well sometimes the tabloids
know things before I do. Maybe my house is
bugged, I don’t know. (Pause) A comeback -
I’ve only been gone for half a day. (Pause)
How much? Wow. That’s very tempting.

Ed looks back at Seth who is disapprovingly shaking his head.



ED
(continued)
But I’m not coming back. (Pause) Put me on
three-way, I’ll tell him myself. Hi Paul - yeah
Allen told me your offer and it’s very generous
but...(pause) how much more?...and the jet...

Seth reaches over the seat and yanks the cell-phone out of Ed’s hand and throws it out the window. The phone skims across the street where it’s crushed by an oncoming car.

Ed turns back and stares at Seth.

ED
Thanks.

SETH
What kind of jet?

ED
Twenty-first Century Gulf Stream. With a pilot and a
personal chef. And a doctor.

SETH
A doctor?

ED
That’s a big perk. Unprecedented.

VIOLET
What are you afraid of ...Ed? Is it the money,
the planes, the women, death? What drives
a person to throw their life down the sewer and
give up fame, fortune and success? What is
that?

SETH
He was in a box. He had to get out.

VIOLET
You can’t get out of a box in your own jet?
You’re on a fucking bus.

ED
Can I get out of the box in my own jet?

SETH
No. No. The jet’s just another box. You need
to become part of your own solution Ed.

VIOLET
What the hell does that mean?

SETH
It means he can’t be a part of his own problem.

VIOLET
That’s the same thing.

ED
Hey leave him alone. He makes sense.

VIOLET
And what’s your point of reference - Hollywood?

There’s a loud thud from the front of bus as it jerks to a violent stop. Toby, Ed, Seth and Violet run out and around to the front of the bus.

EXT. BUS - SAME

A dead horse lays on it’s side with one eye wide open and staring at the sun. About a hundred yards in front of the bus is a jack-knifed truck and horse trailer with the doors swung wide open. Violet starts screaming with unbridled despair and begins to vengefully kick in the front of the bus. Ed and Seth restrain her and take her around to the stairs of the bus where they sit her down and try to get her calm. She suddenly turns eerily quiet and starting with her shoes, she systematically takes off every strip of clothing and walks naked across the highway into the desert. Seth and Ed stare at her surprisingly perfect body as she gets smaller and smaller, finally sitting down cross-legged in the hot sand. She just sits.

SETH
Now there’s something you don’t see every day.

ED
I’ve never seen a dead horse either.

Ed and Seth look back to see Toby walking toward them as two men and a very fat woman drag the dead horse about a foot at a time back up the highway toward the trailer.


TOBY
It’s gonna take about four hours for a repair crew
to get out. They only have one truck out here
and they’re on a call about two hundred miles
away. Sorry. I’ve got some water underneath and
some emergency rations if you get hungry.

He notices Violet sitting naked in the desert.

TOBY
And you’ll take care of her? I think she’s had a hard
time of it.

Ed looks out at her with a new depth in his eyes.

ED
Yeah.

TOBY
You tell her that horse was dead before we
hit it. She’s got enough blame in her already.

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. DESERT - LATER

Ed and Seth have joined Violet in her vigil. A desert thunderstorm spreads across the sky and pours a torrential rain as they all three sit naked in the sand. As they stare into the expanse, lightning strikes the mountains in the distance and thunder rumbles through the sky. They sit silently forming an unspoken bond.

CUT TO:

EXT. BUS - SUNSET

The front end of the bus is up on jacks. A tow-truck drives away from the scene and disappears down the highway.

INT. BUS - SAME

Toby bumps his way through the open door of the bus where Ed and Seth sit in the back. He’s lugging three suitcases. Violet comes out of the bathroom draped in Ed’s coat. Not making eye contact, she sits down hard.

TOBY
Well, we have a broken axle. We’re gonna be
here at least ‘til morning. I brought your bags
in case you need anything.

With just her eyes, Violet looks up at him.

TOBY
I love horses too.

He drops their bags and goes and sits behind the steering-wheel. Violet snatches her suitcase, flips it up onto one of the seats and prepares to open it.

VIOLET
Could I get some privacy?

Ed gets up and opens his suitcase.

ED
C’mon boys. I’ve got some Cubans that I need
to get rid of.

CUT TO:


EXT. BUS - SUNSET

The Arizona sun looms large just above the night before descending gently into twilight.

To Ed, Seth and Toby, the bus is just a dark speck on the horizon. They’ve wandered almost a mile into the desert, all sharing the notion that Cuban cigars and female energy do not mix. They ceremonially stand in a circle and light up.

Toby takes a deep draw from the finest cigar in the world and is overcome with a pleasure he’s dreamed of but never known. He looks up through the cloud of Cuban smoke and sees the bus in the distance, glowing like a jewel against the pale desert sky.

TOBY
I’ll be damned.

They all stare at the bus, awestruck.

CUT TO:

INT. BUS - LATER

From front to back, the rails under the windows are lined with lit candles - hundreds of candles, each one different than the next. The windows in the back of the bus are draped with Violet’s scarves, all in shades of pink, purple and lavender.

Toby, Ed and Seth file into the bus. They don’t see Violet sitting cross-legged on the floor writing in a journal.

SETH
Trippy.

ED
She’s amazing.

SETH
You know what this means?

ED
Yeah.

SETH
She’s the candlestick maker.

VIOLET
Is there a problem with that?

Toby walks slowly toward her. Violet stands defiantly to face him. They stand nose to nose.

Toby is sweet to her.

TOBY
You take as much time as you need.

Violet throws her arms around him.

VIOLET
It wasn’t your fault.

TOBY
I know baby. I know. Sometimes things just
happen that’s all. Things just happen.

VIOLET
I need to read this out loud. Do you mind?

The three men don’t dare deny her.

ED & SETH
No. No.

Violet begins to read from her journal.

VIOLET
I rode through fields of wheat and storm.
My best friend strode beneath me torn.
To carry me his pleasured joy.
Careful not to destroy his spirit.

He loved me like his mother. A gentle soul.
I gave him everything I had.
But couldn’t save him. He was gone.
I cried all night and months and years.
My tears went dry before my sorrow.
I wrote that when my horse died.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. DINER - FLAGSTAFF ARIZONA - DAY

The bus parked outside casts a cool shadow over a tiny mom-and-pop diner alongside the desolate Arizona highway. Outside, Toby struggles to get an old pay-phone to work while Ed, Seth and Violet are cramped into one of the three red-leather booths inside the diner. They read their greasy menus.

ED
So what is it exactly about my acting that sucks?

VIOLET
Could you stop talking about yourself for five
minutes.

ED
I’m just trying to better myself.

SETH
He is.

VIOLET
Okay, if you want to better yourself. It’s not
your acting - it’s you. You suck. You suck
...as a person....as a human being.

SETH
That’s pretty harsh.

VIOLET
Have you ever been nice to anyone without
wanting anything in return? And that includes
recognition, acceptance or love.

SETH
Wow.


ED
I don’t know.

VIOLET
Then you haven’t. How old are you?

ED
They say I can do anything from eighteen
to thirty two. You mean how old am I really?


VIOLET
I mean everything - really. Your problem
is that you have no soul. Most people on
the planet have one - but you don’t. You
are a soulless man. And there’s no way you
can get one either - you either have one or
you don’t. And you don’t.

With barely enough room for the waitress to move between the tables, she squeezes through to take their order. Too many children, bad genes, hard work and the Arizona sun have made her old beyond her years. She flips open her order-pad and pulls a pencil from somewhere under her disheveled hair.

WAITRESS
What’s for lunch?

SETH
Cheeseburger. Do you have curly fries?

WAITRESS
We have straight fries. What about you missy?

Nobody has ever called Violet missy and she doesn’t take very well to it.

VIOLET
Do you have anything vegetarian?

WAITRESS
We have salad.

VIOLET
What kind of lettuce?

WAITRESS
Plain - old - lettuce

VIOLET
You mean iceberg.

WAITRESS
This is Arizona honey. I don’t think you’ll
find any icebergs around here.

The cook laughs.

VIOLET
I’ll have a cup of piping hot water.

The waitress looks over at Ed who has forgotten to put on his disguise.


WAITRESS
How ‘bout you sugar?

ED
I’ll have a club sandwich with extra bacon.

WAITRESS
Hey, you’re Ed Mackey Jr.. Danny, it’s Ed
Mackey Jr., the movie star. You were so good
in Day of Judgment.

VIOLET
No! No he wasn’t. He was horrific in that film.
Did you know that he was supposed to be
an officer in the Royal Air Force? He slapped
on a Scottish accent - the worst ever by the way
to hide that fact that he has absolutely no talent,
an abysmal sense of truth and zero chemistry
with any other human being on the planet.

ED
Could I get a Coke with that?

EXT. DINER - SAME

Toby looks discouraged as he hangs up the phone and opens the diner’s wood framed screen-door. Equipped with a small rusted bell and woven with duct-tape and fishing line, the door barely holds together as Toby lets the wind slam it behind him. He squeezes into the booth next to Violet who rhythmically dips a worn out tea-bag (and her fingers) into her luke-warm cup of water.

ED
What did they say?

TOBY
Bus number sixty eight is out of commission.

VIOLET
What does that mean?

TOBY
That means that they send another bus to get
you and they tow this one and me back to the yard.

VIOLET
Our bus works just fine.

TOBY
The law says they gotta take it back.


SETH
I don’t want another bus. I like this bus.

TOBY
Yeah - so do I - I’ve driven that bus since she
came off the line twenty years ago. I would
have turned over one million miles on her if
we’d have gone all the way through to Idaho.
We been through a lot.

ED
How much for the bus?

TOBY
What?

ED
Money. How much do you want for the bus?

TOBY
It’s not my bus.

ED
Then I’ll give you ten thousand dollars to drive
us to - where are we going?

SETH
Franklin Idaho.

ED
Ten thousand dollars to drive us to Franklin Idaho.

TOBY
It’s not my bus.

ED
Twenty thousand. You can turn over a million miles.

TOBY
I’m thirty two days from retirement.

ED
Fifty thousand.

TOBY
Done.

CUT TO:



EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY

The bus rolls down the highway with Violet’s scarves filtering out the open windows.

INT. BUS - SAME

As if suspended in time, the once cascading wax from Violet’s candles hangs like icicles from the ledges of the bus windows. Toby is focused as he maneuvers the bus through the twisting curves of a mountainous Northern Arizona highway. Even with headphones firmly over his ears, music leaks through into the bus.

Violet lays day-dreaming across Ed and Seth’s laps as they doze in their seats. The frantic sound of a car-horn honking wakes them from their light sleep. They look out the window. Toby can’t hear a thing and continues to deliberately navigate through the mountain pass.

Blasting it’s horn, a topless yellow Corvette convertible swings along-side the bus into the oncoming traffic lane.

VIOLET
Shit. That’s Mr. Bains - my husband.

ED
Ex husband.

VIOLET
Husband - technically.

ED
What?

VIOLET
By law. I didn’t legally divorce him. Just
in my heart. He’s a lawyer. What does he want?

Mr. Bains points at Violet while waving his hand up and down.

SETH
Right now I think he wants you to roll down the
window.

Jonathan Bains manages to stay with the bus curve for curve while not taking his eyes off of Violet. Seth struggles to get the window to go down just about a foot, allowing Violet to poke her head out sideways. She yells across the highway.

VIOLET
Go away.

He just stares at her as he whips the Vette around another sharp curve.

VIOLET
(yelling)
You’re going to kill yourself.

Mr. Bains pulls a gun from under the seat and aims it straight at Violet. Ed and Seth duck down below the glass trying to pull Violet down with them but her head is stuck - wedged in the window.

ON TOBY:

With it’s emergency flashers blinking, Toby sees a stalled black Cadillac about a hundred yards ahead in the on-coming traffic lane. He briefly looks to his left to see that it’s a disabled Hearse sitting with it’s hood up in the middle of the lane. He sees that there’s no one in the Hearse as he passes by, he then quickly refocuses on the road as he approaches another curve.

ON THE CORVETTE:

Just as Mr. Bains raises the gun to shoot, his car smashes head-on into the Hearse, practically disintegrating the Corvette on impact. The sound is explosive and terrifying. Ed, Seth and Violet watch in horror as a casket is ejected from the back of the Hearse and careens end-over-end down the side of the steep mountain, disappearing into a deep ravine. The bus takes another sharp curve and the horrific scene vanishes behind them.

ON TOBY:

Toby briefly stops whistling whatever he’s listening to on his head-phones. He glances back for a brief check on his passengers, oblivious as to what just took place.

TOBY
Everybody awake back there?

In shock, they all quietly nod.

TOBY
We’ll be in Flagstaff in about five minutes.
They’ve got a nice little tavern there, with
a waitress named Daisy. Don’t get me wrong
now, we just talk - but it’s good talk - music -
poetry - philosophy. Listen, my wife’s
a wonderful woman but she thinks Plato’s a
big dog at Disneyland.

CUT TO:

EXT. ROADSIDE - MOMENTS LATER

A small man in a black suit stands hopefully by the side of the road as bus number sixty eight draws closer. He’s Jake Alcot, a mortician and (unbeknownst to him) the owner of a mangled Hearse and a missing casket. Toby stops the bus and opens the doors to let the man on.


TOBY
That your Cadillac?

JAKE
Unfortunately, yes. The Hearse has a long
and tempestuous relationship with Cadillac.
Sure they were prestigious - that was before
the Germans got into the act. Now it’s
Mercedes all the way. I say ‘in with the
old and out with the new.’ That’s an old
morticians joke. I’m Jacob Alcot. Jake.

TOBY
Name’s Toby. Climb abroad Jake - that’s an
old bus-driver’s joke.

JAKE
Do you think you could take me into Flagstaff,
I need a new water pump pretty quickly. We have
to bury my passenger today. You know us Jews.

TOBY
No I don’t - but I’ll take your word. Climb
on in. Flagstaff’s only a few miles up
the road. I’m sure your passenger will be fine.
That’s my business - passengers.

CUT TO:

INT. TAVERN - AFTERNOON

Animal heads line the walls of the small tavern, many with baseball caps and cowboy hats hanging from their dusty antlers - one with a dart stuck between it’s eyes. Toby sits in a booth in a dark corner talking with Daisy, the waitress. Daisy is a young black woman with a warm smile and an inviting personality.

Ed, Seth and Violet sit at the bar waiting for the disgruntled bartender to finish the last few bites of his hamburger. Behind the bar, windows look out over the deserted street. Across the street, the bus is parked in front of a small roadside motel. They watch as a tow truck passes the bar. Jake is waving and smiling from the passenger seat as the tow truck disappears down the road.

ED
We should have said something?

SETH
He’ll find out soon enough.

ED
What if they think somebody stole the coffin
and they never look for it?


SETH
What’s meant to be will be.

ED
I think we should have said something.

VIOLET
I can’t believe Mr. Bains wanted to kill me.
He said he loved me. That’s not love.

Licking his fingers, the bartender finally comes over to take their order. He obviously hasn’t been in the mood to work in some years. Jesse Kratzer has been tending bar since he was fifteen years old. He’s forty.

JESSE
What’ll it be?

ED
I’ll have an Amstel light.

JESSE
A what?

ED
How ‘bout a Heineken.

JESSE
We have Bud, Coors and Miller Lite. And
we’re out of Miller Lite.

ED
Bring us a round of Coors and get that guy
over there whatever he wants.

JESSE
Gotta tell the waitress that.

ED
Where’s the waitress?

JESSE
With that guy over there.


VIOLET
Look just get us our beers and go see what
that gentleman wants. And stop licking your
fingers.

Jesse stops licking his fingers and leans down on the bar. He stares coldly into Violet’s eyes. He slowly and deliberately works his entire fist into his mouth and rolls his tongue around and


through his fingers. He pulls his wet fist from his mouth.

JESSE
Now I’ll get your beers.

He’s in no hurry as he walks to the other end of the bar.

ED
(to Violet)
You’ve got quite a way with people.

VIOLET
He said he loved me.

ED
You do realize that he’s dead.

VIOLET
What?

SETH
His car disintegrated.

ED
And there was an explosion.

SETH
A big explosion.

ED
And a fire.

VIOLET
Oh my God.

Jesse returns and puts all three beers down in front of Ed.

JESSE
That’s six fifty.

ED
How much are they?

JESSE
I said - six fifty.

ED
I mean a piece. How can three beers add up to
six fifty.

JESSE
Three beers are six fifty cause we sell a six pack
for thirteen dollars - what’s half of thirteen?

SETH
That’s six fifty.

ED
So how much is one beer.

JESSE
You didn’t order one beer. You ordered three
beers and it’s six fifty.

SETH
He makes an intriguing point.

ED
What if we all paid separately.

JESSE
Too late.

Ed pulls a twenty out of his wallet and tosses it up on the bar.

ED
Keep the change.

Without even looking at the bill, Jesse slides it off the bar, bypasses the cash register and stuffs it directly into his tip jar. He pulls a rumpled pack of cigarettes from his tee-shirt pocket as he gives a single swift tug to the dirty piece of rope that rings the tip bell. He goes and sits on a worn red-leather stool at the end of the bar and lights up.

ED
You got another smoke?

Jesse pulls the pack from his pocket, takes out his last cigarette, slides it behind his ear, crumples the pack and throws it into the trash can.

JESSE
Nope.

ED
Do you sell cigarettes here?

JESSE
Nope.

ED
Anywhere around here?

JESSE
Nope.

ED
I’ll give you a hundred dollars for that one behind
your ear.

Jesse pulls the cigarette from behind his ear.

JESSE
A hundred dollars for this cigarette.

ED
One hundred dollars.

JESSE
Listen mister. I don’t know who the fuck you
think you are but I ain’t nobody’s bitch.

He grabs Ed by the shirt and pulls him up out of his stool. He begins to become enraged.

JESSE
You think you can buy me? You think I’m just
some low life piece of shit? How would you like
me to cut your nuts off.

He pulls a large butcher knife from behind the bar, holding Ed up with one hand.

ED
No thank you. I’m sorry.

Jesse pushes him back down onto his stool. He crumbles the cigarette on the bar in front of Ed, walks back to his stool and casually begins to read the newspaper.

ED
I didn’t mean to insult you.

Jesse glares over at Ed.

VIOLET
He doesn’t like you.

ED
Everybody likes me. You set him off.

VIOLET
People only pretend you like you - because
they want something. He doesn’t want anything.



ED
(to Seth)
That’s not true. Is that true?

SETH
People are incomparably petty. Most people
value money and status above anything else
and want to be close to it. It’s fame and fortune
by association.

VIOLET
And you want love and acceptance from them.
It’s a classic co-parasitic existence.

ED
(to Violet)
What about you?

VIOLET
What about me?

ED
Are you my friend - or do you want something?

VIOLET
I’m still grieving.

ED
Seth?

SETH
We’re two parts of the same organism. Technically
we can’t be friends.

Ed has a moment of realization.

ED
Nobody likes me.


VIOLET
Did someone try to kill you today?

ED
I’m serious. I don’t have one true friend.
I’ve wasted my life.

From behind his newspaper.

JESSE
I’ll be your friend.

ED
I’m sorry - didn’t you just offer to cut my
nuts off.

JESSE
But you were polite. Not too many people have
manners. When I offered to cut you’re nuts
off you said ‘no thank you’ - I appreciate
that.

ED
I don’t really know you that well...so.

JESSE
I see.

ED
No - there’s no I see. I’ve got nothing against
you. Friendships need to be nurtured and
trust needs to be built. Bonds need to form.

VIOLET
Shit - no wonder you don’t have any friends.

ED
(to Jesse)
Come with us then.

VIOLET
What?

ED
Come with us. We’re headed into our unknown
futures in ... where?

SETH
Franklin Idaho.

ED
Franklin Idaho.

JESSE
Idaho?

The dart falls out of the moose-head and sticks with a thud into the soft wood floor.

CUT TO:

EXT. TAVERN - MORNING

Carrying a large green duffel-bag, a bottle of Bacardi 151 and puffing down the last few drags of a cigarette, Jesse comes out the front door of the tavern. Ed, Seth and Violet gape curiously out the windows of the bus. Jesse yells up to Toby who holds an impatient idle behind the wheel.

JESSE
Just a minute.

Not quite running, Jesse’s gangly legs whisk him back toward the tavern. He slinks in the front door and back out again without the Bacardi. Before slamming the door for the last time, he flicks his lit cigarette butt back into the tavern. As if he hasn’t a care in the world, he shuffles from the tavern door to the bus in twice the time it should take him. He climbs up onto the bus and the doors close behind him.

The bus pulls away from the tavern and disappears down the road and over the crest of the highway.

The busses’ absence leaves a lingering silence that’s finally broken by the sound of the old wooden tavern bursting into flames. The tavern burns.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. BUS - DAY

Jesse’s bare ass is the focus of attention as he demonstrates how his tattoo of Bugs Bunny leaps from the butt-cheek into the hole with one well practiced flex.

VIOLET
Who did this to you?

JESSE
A carny. His name was Fish - or Danny.
He pierced my scrotum with a McDonald’s
straw. He was paralyzed and worked with
a helper monkey. Damnedest thing you’ve
ever seen. That little monkey could hold
a grown man down for a full ten seconds.

A small bell rings from somewhere between Jesse’s legs as he jerks his pants back up.

JESSE
School’s out.

Jesse reclines into his seat and rubs his hands together in imagined anticipation.

JESSE
So what’s everybody gonna do with their share
of the gold?

SETH
What gold?

JESSE
There’s no gold?


ED
There’s no gold.

JESSE
Are we gonna repopulate the earth?

VIOLET
Don’t even let him look at me.

JESSE
We gotta do somethin’ big. What are we
gonna do?

ED
We’re going to Idaho.

JESSE
That’s it?

SETH
That’s it.

JESSE
I’ve never been to Idaho.

CUT BACK TO:

EXT. TAVERN - SAME - IN ASHES

The five Harleys race right through the smoldering rubble that was the tavern, leaving a huge cloud of black dust in their wake.

CUT TO:

EXT. CORN FIELD - NIGHT

A billion stars light a moonless Arizona night. The bus has cut a narrow path into a corn field. Toby sleeps, slumped over the steering wheel snoring as Seth and Violet make-out across the back row of seats. Ed and Jesse lay on the top of the bus gazing up at the vast blanket of stars.

JESSE
I was always waiting for something to happen.
Nothing’s happened. I started tending bar when
I was fifteen. I’m forty. I barely remember any
of it. I drank since I was six. My grandpa used
to make beet wine in the cellar and me and my
brother Ernie would go down and drink. Six
years old. Ernie’s dead. His liver gave
out about five years ago. He was forty.
But I always thought somethin’ would come
along. I thought I was a late bloomer. But I was
just a drunk. And now I’m goin’ to Idaho -
That’s where Ernie lived. This bus goes right
through the town that he lived in - I checked it
on the map before we left. He has two
kids - I never met ‘em.

ED
You should go. See his kids.

JESSE
No.

ED
We’ll go.

JESSE
I wouldn’t want ‘em to see how I turned out.

The whir of crickets fills the awkward silence between them.

ED
I wanted to be an astronaut - but I was too tall.

JESSE
So you became a movie star.

ED
Yeah.

JESSE
That’s rough.

ED
Yeah.

JESSE
People should be able to be whatever they want
to be.
ED
I know.

JESSE
Sometimes I think the world just tries to keep us
down. You know?

ED
I know. You know I lost Pulp Fiction to John
Travolta.

JESSE
I never saw that.

ED
You’d like it. It kind of reminds me of you.

JESSE
That’s what I’m talkin’ about. Why should John
Travolta get a part and you don’t?

ED
That’s what I say.

JESSE
Once I was takin’ a crap at a bar down in Tuscan
and a snake came up out of the toilet and went
right up my poop-shoot. Had to lure it out with
a live mouse.

ED
Life.

JESSE
I’m sorry you couldn’t be an astronaut.

ED
Me too. Look at all those stars. It makes me feel so
small and insignificant.

JESSE
Me too.

ED
Maybe I’ll get there someday.

JESSE
Probably not.

ED
I like you Jesse - you’re a realist.

JESSE
Most people find me offensive.

ED
You just say what’s on your mind is all.

JESSE
No.


ED
Yea you do. And you’re not afraid of what people
think of you either.

JESSE
That’s true.

ED
And if you want to do something - God dammit - you
do it.

JESSE
I do.

ED
You’re your own man. I wish I could be more like
you.

JESSE
Really?

ED
Yea.

JESSE
Huh. That makes me not want to kill myself.

ED
You think about that?

JESSE
Every day. But I figure I’ll die soon enough.

ED
I’m sorry you’re a drunk.

JESSE
Me too.

The bus starts gently rocking back and forth as Violets soft moans drift through the night like perfume.


JESSE
I thought she was your girlfriend.


ED
We just met yesterday.

JESSE
You looked like you belonged together.

ED
Well it’s too late now.

JESSE
You should stop ‘em.

ED
It’s none of my business.

JESSE
If you love her you should stop ‘em.

ED
I just met her yesterday. I don’t love her.

JESSE
So.

ED
You can’t stop people in the middle of sex.

JESSE
I have. Women love it.

ED
Right in the middle?

JESSE
Right in the middle. They feel like they’re being
rescued.

Ed makes his decision as Violet’s moans become more intense.

ED
You my friend are an inspiration - I’ll do it.

INT. BUS - SAME

Seth and Violet are going at it full force. Violet is on top, making Ed think twice about the rescue scenario as he stands over them. Ed goes unobserved, silently watching as they finish in a crescendo of mutual pleasure. Finally looking up into his face, Violet pretends not to see the pain in Ed’s eyes. She continues to lay on top of Seth.



VIOLET
(to herself)
Where’s your creepy new friend? Didn’t he want
to watch too?

ED
He told me come and rescue you.

VIOLET
Rescue me from what?

Seth’s transition from sexual to philosophical is startling.

SETH
From yourself.

VIOLET
Shut up.

Violet puts the remainder of her body weight on him as he struggles to speak.

SETH
You’re obviously in love with him - and you’re
just taking it out on me.

Violet’s vulnerability suddenly becomes apparent to her.

VIOLET
You prick.

She scrambles up, straightens her clothes and storms out of the bus.

SETH
Now you can rescue her.

ED
You shouldn’t have said that.

SETH
Always say what’s true.

ED
Not if it hurts people.

SETH
You do love her.

ED
If I do - I don’t like it. I don’t know what
love is. Do you? Do you love her?


SETH
Love’s a chemical that ultimately wears off -
so I don’t get too attached to it.

ED
What should I do?

SETH
If it were me?

ED
If it were you.

SETH
If it were me I’d fuck her and then pawn her off
on you.

CUT TO:

EXT. BUS - DAWN

The bus races past a sign welcoming them to the great state of Oklahoma.

INT. BUS - SAME

Scattered about the inside of the bus about as far away from each other as they can get, Ed, Seth and Violet stretch out asleep across their seats. Ed is jarred awake as the bus hits a small sink-hole in the road. The road smooths out again. Ed groggily makes his way to the front of the bus. He passes Violet and then Seth, both sleeping. He looks back behind him like he’s forgotten something and as if to clear his mind, shakes his head. He startles Toby as he taps him on the shoulder.

ED
Sorry.

TOBY
Thought you was all dead back there.

ED
How long have we been asleep?

TOBY
We’ve been on the road about six hours.

ED
Where are we?

TOBY
Oklahoma.

ED
What happened to New Mexico.

TOBY
You missed New Mexico. Just as well.


ED
But I wanted to see New Mexico. Me and
Jesse were gonna walk barefoot on the
sand at White Sands. And he was gonna show
me where he was standing when they tested the
last atomic bomb.

Toby gets a dumbfounded look on his face.

TOBY
Jesse?

ED
Where’s Jesse?

CUT TO:

EXT. DESOLATE ROADSIDE - LATER

A full moon lights the top of the bus, now stopped along the side of a desolate Oklahoma road. On top of the bus Toby kneels next to Jesse’s lifeless body, his wrist hanging limp in Toby’s trembling hand. Ed, Seth and Violet stand helplessly below as they hear Jesse’s dead hand hit the aluminum roof of the bus.

CUT TO:

INT. MORTUARY - DAY

Surrounded by caskets, Ed and Seth sit in a large room waiting for the mortician. Seth gets up and begins to carefully inspect one of the coffins. He cautiously lifts the lid and caresses the velvety lining inside. He feels the soft satin pillow. He closes the lid and checks the seal to make sure it’s tight. He opens the lid again and pulls it up and down a few times. The mortician enters.

MORTICIAN
That’s our most comfortable model. It’s called
the eternal flame.

SETH
It’s beautiful.

MORTICIAN
I know. Your loved one will enjoy eternal comfort.


ED
What’s your least comfortable? He was a simple man.

MORTICIAN
That would be the traditional pine box.

ED
We’ll take that.

MORTICIAN
Your loved one will enjoy the simplicity.

ED
I’m sure he will.

MORTICIAN
We should talk about flowers.

ED
No flowers.

MORTICIAN
No flowers?

ED
He hated flowers. Could we just pay? What
do we have - the plot, the coffin, the priest...

MORTICIAN
Non-denominational Minister.

ED
Okay.

MORTICIAN
And the digger. We don’t have our own back-hoe.
It’s a total of thirty two thousand and fourteen
dollars.

SETH
What would happen if the eternal flame went
off the side of a cliff?

MORTICIAN
Why would it go off of a cliff?

SETH
Hypothetically.

MORTICIAN
They’re specifically designed to be in the ground.

Ed takes out a credit card.

ED
Could we pay?

MORTICIAN
He only had sixty four dollars. Normally that would
go to next of kin.

The mortician hands the money to Ed and takes his credit card.

SETH
Would you mind if I tried this out?

MORTICIAN
Help yourself.

Seth climbs into the Eternal Flame casket.

SETH
This is very comfortable.

MORTICIAN
It’s designed for perpetual tranquillity.

ED
Put it on the card too.

MORTICIAN
Excuse me.

ED
We’ll take that coffin.

MORTICIAN
It’s twenty thousand dollars.

Ed takes out a different credit card and hands it to the mortician.

ED
Better put it on this one then.

SETH
Thank you Ed.

ED
Life’s for the living - right?

MORTICIAN
No one’s actually ever taken one out before.

SETH
It’s okay - we have a bus.

CUT TO:



EXT. CEMETERY - DAY

In a quaint suburban Oklahoma cemetery, Jesse’s casket is about to be lowered into the ground. Ed, Seth, Violet and Toby are the only onlookers. A generic preacher is saying some prayers over the grave but no one’s really listening.

VIOLET
It was nice of you to do this for him.

ED
He was my friend - kind of.

SETH
How long do you think he was dead?

TOBY
The coroner said he was dead before we left
Oklahoma - said it was probably his liver.

ED
Just like Ernie.

VIOLET
Who’s Ernie?

ED
His brother.

SETH
He had a brother?

ED
He lived in Idaho. Has two kids.

VIOLET
I didn’t know you knew so much about him.

ED
His liver gave out when he was forty - just like
Jesse. You know he had to lure a snake out of
his ass with a live mouse.


SETH
He was a good man.

TOBY
A fine man.

Violet shrugs.


ED
Where do you think we go when we die?

VIOLET
Good go to heaven. Bad go to hell.

SETH
Duality is for suckers. There’s no heaven and hell.
Everything in the universe is in perfect balance.
Only perception changes. Not perfection.

ED
You didn’t answer the question.

SETH
What was it?

ED
Where do we go when we die?

SETH
If you’re Jesse - right here. There’s no mystical,
magical boundary between life and death. They
exist simultaneously.

VIOLET
Shut up Seth.

SETH
You’ll see.

VIOLET
What about you Ed? Where do we go?

ED
Well I’ll tell you what I think - but keep in mind
that I don’t have a soul....

CUT TO:

INT. BUS - DAY

Seth and Violet sit on either side of Ed who lays face up in the open coffin that’s wedged into the isle of the bus. Toby pilots his way across the expansive Oklahoma prairie.

ED
This is where we go when we die.

VIOLET
Do you have to lay in there?

ED
It’s really comfortable. It’s designed for
perpetual tranquillity.

VIOLET
It’s creepin’ me out.

SETH
Everyone deals with death in their own way.

VIOLET
Shut up. I’m still very mad at you.

SETH
I’m sorry I had sex with you.

Violet gives him the dirtiest look she can without seeming to care.

SETH
I mean I’m sorry it wasn’t Ed.

VIOLET
Oh you’re not half as sorry as I am. At least
Ed could have faked some emotion.

ED
I’m still alive here.

SETH
Do you want me to lie. I’m not like him - I can’t
bullshit my way through life - inflicting pain -
toying with peoples feelings to get more of
what I think I want. Lying about everything.

ED
Fuck you guys.

VIOLET
You think you know everything about everyone.
Why don’t you take a look in the mirror. I’m
sure Ed has one on him.

Ed closes the coffin lid.

SETH
Why don’t you just admit you love him and get
on with your life.

VIOLET
The first time I saw him - the very first time
I literally vomited. His face popped up on
the screen at the Peppertree theater and
I just spontaneously threw up. It was like
I saw Satan.


SETH
Love’s never perfect.

Toby yells back to them.

TOBY
We got some weather ahead. I’m gonna pull over
for a while.

Ed pops up out of the coffin.

Suddenly baseball sized hail-stones rain down outside, bombarding the bus. Inside, it sounds like they’ve driven into a war zone. Toby yells back to them again.

TOBY
I’m gonna try to make that tunnel. The hair on
the back of my neck’s standin’ up - that’s the sign.

SETH
Of what?

TOBY
Tornado.

ED
No. No tornado.

TOBY
The hair’s never wrong.

Seth gets very excited.

SETH
We should have buried him in eternal comfort!

The sound inside the bus is nearly deafening as Toby races the bus toward the tunnel. Suddenly darkness and silence.

ED
What happened?

VIOLET
We’re in a tunnel. Don’t be such a baby.
It’s just wind.

Seth is genuinely disappointed.
SETH
It’s not over, is it?

TOBY
Don’t worry. Wait three seconds - two - one.

The bus starts shaking and rocking violently and it sounds like a freight-train is coming right at them.

VIOLET
Holy shit.

Toby sees the light at the end of the tunnel go black.

TOBY
Hold on to somethin’.

The bus becomes momentarily weightless, lifting off the ground and turning about thirty degrees, hitting the inside wall of the tunnel. Within that moment, the door violently bursts open and one of the back windows is sucked out, along with everything that isn’t nailed down. The bus free-falls back down to the ground with extraordinary force. Suddenly it’s light. There’s a still calm. Everything goes quiet. Toby continues hugging the steering wheel with all his strength. Ed and Seth clutch their seats. Violet is obviously missing and the next few moments grow extremely tense.

ED
Violet! Violet!

SETH
She’s gone.

ED
Violet!

SETH
She must have got sucked out.

As the dust begins to settle, Ed puts his head in his hands and sits down on the closed coffin.

ED
God damn it. I finally fall in love with a girl and
she gets sucked out.

Ed begins to cry but stops as he hears a knocking coming from under his butt. He jumps up and opens the coffin. Violet is staring back up at him, confused.

VIOLET
You’re in love with me?


ED
No.

SETH
Yes. Of course he is.

VIOLET
You were crying because you thought I got sucked out.

SETH
He was.

ED
I spent thirty thousand dollars on a funeral for a
complete stranger - and a weird one at that.
I bought Seth a coffin. And I gave up fame
and fortune to ride on a bus to... where?

SETH
Franklin Idaho.

ED
So what I say or do is completely irrelevant. It means
nothing.

VIOLET
Before - when I said you have no soul. I was
wrong - I apologize for that. You probably do
have a soul.

ED
I accept your apology.

VIOLET
A very small one.

Toby hasn’t moved. He’s still hugging the steering-wheel with all his might.

TOBY
(not looking up)
Everyone all right back there. That was a big one.
I’ve run this route for thirty years and that was a
big one.

Toby pries himself from the steering-wheel and goes out to check for damage.

Violet chokes down some pride.

VIOLET
You may even actually be a nice person. You just
don’t have any social skills.

ED
I just seem to have trouble with people that are alive.
And with non-scripted conversation
.
VIOLET
Why?


ED
I started doing commercials when I was eight years
old, after my dad died - never went to a school,
never had any friends. My dad was the only person
I ever really talked to - opened up to - and he was
dead. You know that coffin’s probably the first
real gift I’ve ever bought someone. And I bought
a coffin. Don’t you find that odd? It’s a gift that
someone can only use if they die. I think I’m afraid
of the dying.

Seth’s nature won’t allow him to pass up an opportunity to inject his insight.

SETH
You’re afraid of living.

Ed has a moment of clarity.

ED
I’m afraid of living.

Ed starts to laugh.
ED
(laughing)
I’m afraid of living.

SETH
And you were pretending to live so you thought
you were living. Your whole career was based
on pretending to live. You were pretending.

ED
(still laughing)
I was pretending to live.

SETH
And now you’re living.

Ed stops laughing and looks up at Violet, confused.


ED
And now I’m living.....?

SETH
Living - not pretending.. Let’s go look at the devastation.

VIOLET
We can’t go through there. If we go through there we’ll
never be the same. This is it. This is a defining moment.


SETH
The cross-roads?

Violet becomes terrified.

VIOLET
We can go back!

SETH
Let’s go through - we’ve got nothing. We’ve got nothing
to lose.

Ed stares out the tunnel at the future.

ED
It’s page sixty.

SETH
What’s that?

ED
Page sixty - of a movie script. The turning point.

SETH
Does it have to be page sixty? Can it be fifty eight or
sixty two.

ED
It’s around page sixty. Every page represents one minute
of screen time so you’re an hour in.

SETH
And what happens?

ED
It depends on what kind of movie it is.

SETH
What if this were a movie? What would happen when we
got to the other side.

ED
This couldn’t be a movie.

VIOLET
Well I don’t want to know what happens.

CUT TO:

EXT. TUNNEL - DAY

Ed leads the way as the threesome emerge from the tunnel on foot. Toby drives a few yards behind them, inching along, testing the busses’ mechanics, (gears, brakes, etc.) The vast Oklahoma prairie spreads before them. Except for a large Sycamore tree that’s been stripped to the bark by the tornado there’s nothing but short prairie-grass as far as the eye can see.

SETH
Nothin’. Very disappointing.

VIOLET
I’ll bet you read the bible.

SETH
For historical reference. Why?

VIOLET
Because people who love death and destruction
read the bible.

SETH
I do love Revelation.

VIOLET
Because it’s about the destruction of the earth and
most everybody on it. And people who are so afraid
of getting up and getting on with their lives - they
love to live in this passive fantasy where the end
of the world saves them from all their self induced
misery. Talk about fear of living. You’re the one
that’s afraid - he’s just an idiot.

Seth reflects for a moment.


SETH
I’m not afraid. What about rub-a-dub-dub.

VIOLET
The nursery rhyme?

SETH
Yeah. I jumped out of my rotten potato.

VIOLET
You didn’t base your life on that nursery rhyme?

SETH
It’s a great metaphor.

VIOLET
For failure.

SETH
What?

VIOLET
You’ve got three guys that have good professions -
at least by the standards of the day - and they all
think their lives are so bad that they bail out and
end up in a tiny little bathtub together - all crammed
in there naked in what has to be filthy cold water.
They thought they’d find something better than
they had - they weren’t content - and look what
happened to them.

SETH
Shit.

VIOLET
Three grown men washing each other.

SETH
Shit.

VIOLET
And you should examine yourself instead of
examining everyone else. Fucked up people
never know they’re fucked up. They always think
everyone else is.

SETH
I’m not that fucked up?

VIOLET
The less fucked up you think you are - the more you are.

SETH
I don’t think so.

VIOLET
Because you are.

SETH
And I don’t know it?

VIOLET
You couldn’t.

SETH
So if you think you are fucked up then you’re
not?

VIOLET
Nobody thinks they are.


SETH
Then everybody is?

VIOLET
Everybody is.

ED
This is beautiful. There’s nothing for miles.
Except that tree.

Seth and Violet watch as Ed races full speed through the short prairie-grass to the bare Sycamore about a hundred yards away.

SETH
What about him?

VIOLET
He may just be an idiot.

Seth and Violet sit down and watch Ed.

SETH
I like that idiot.

VIOLET
He never killed anybody - he’s got that goin’ for him.

SETH
He told you about that?

VIOLET
Who was it? Your girlfriend? Your mother? Your father.

SETH
I never killed anybody. Ed’s had such an exciting life.
I wanted him to think that I did too.

VIOLET
I thought you knew what was real. That’s why I picked
you to have sex with. You’re dark and burned out and
not very attractive - but at least you were real. Now
what am I supposed to do?

They sit silently as they watch Ed urinate on the Sycamore.

EXT. SYCAMORE TREE - SAME

Ed finishes peeing on the tree and zips his pants. Just as he’s about to turn and walk away, he hears a voice.

VOICE
You might want to have that prostate checked.
You have an intermittent flow - that’s the sign
of acute prostatitis and could be an indicator of
cancer. Do you get a regular prostate exam?

Ed curiously side-steps his way around to the other side of the tree, out of the view of Seth and Violet. Sitting on the ground, tangled up in his sweater is forty two year old Clark Feltz. Clark’s clothes are torn to shreds. His pea-green cardigan is knotted around his waist, pinning his left arm to his body. The soles are partially separated from his wing-tip shoes. His comb-over hangs long on the wrong side of his head and his brain seems for a moment as disheveled as his appearance. He slips a pair of thick wire-rimmed glasses from his shirt pocket, presses them up over his prominent nose-hump where they snap into place. Not realizing or perhaps not caring that both of the lenses are cracked, he looks up at Ed.

CLARK
My God, you’re so young. You’ve got the plumbing
of an eighty year old man. Come over here closer.

Ed takes a step back.

CLARK
Fine - you can go holistic. But all the Saw Palmetto
in China isn’t going to open that dam.

ED
Why do you care about my prostate?

CLARK
Do you think it’s a coincidence that that tornado dropped
me right here?

ED
Are you all right?

CLARK
I do this all the time.

ED
Do what?

CLARK
Ride. I never remember seeing this tree. Sycamore.
This is Tornado Flats. It’s the longest stretch of
pure prairie left in America. I’ve ridden six twisters
from one end to the other.

ED
You ride tornadoes?

CLARK
Yes sir.


ED
Why?

CLARK
It’s clean - just me and the wind - no rocks, boards,
telephone poles - and most importantly - no cows.
When you get up to speed and start to move across
the flat - it’s like you’re floating in space with nothing
between you and infinity. But I don’t remember ever
seeing this tree.

Clark slowly stands, making sure that all his body parts are in tact. He lifts one hand with the other and painfully extends a handshake to Ed. Clark winces as Ed warily shakes his hand.

CLARK
You really need to get that prostate checked.

ED
Pretty dangerous sport for a doctor - don’t you think?

CLARK
I’m not a doctor. I’m a med student at Oklahoma State.
I can give that prostate a feel - it’ll take two seconds.

Again, Clark lifts one hand with the other, this time offering Ed just one finger.

ED
I’m good.

Clark starts to unknot his sweater.

CLARK
This is the part I can’t figure out. I’ve ridden with
pullovers on - wind-breakers, turtle-necks, even
a gortex parka - everything ends up in knots.

ED
Let me give you a hand there.

While Ed works his fingers into one of the tight knots, Clark slips his glasses off and drops them into Ed’s front pants pocket. Ed doesn’t feel it.

CLARK
Thank you. I always get tangled up cause I always
have too much on. Can’t wear any jewelry either.
And your pockets have to be empty. No baggage.
If you want a good clean ride. Kinda like life huh?

Ed takes Clarks hand and looks it over.

ED
It doesn’t look that bad.

Clark probes his abdomen with his good hand.

CLARK
I think I bruised my pancreas...is it on the left or
the right. (Ed squeezes his hand.) Ouch - and
that hand is broken.

ED
Why don’t you come with us. We can get you to
a doctor.

Going back to work on the knots, Clark peeks around the tree and sees the bus idling along the roadside.

CLARK
In that tub. Are you kidding? They don’t even have
seat belts.
ED
Tub?

CLARK
Just an expression. I’m sure it’s safe. If safe
is what you like. I prefer freedom.

ED
Freedom?

CLARK
You start by getting that prostate checked. Your
bus is waiting.


ED
Are you sure I cant....

The horn honks again as the wind picks up.

CLARK
It was nice to meet you Mr. Mackey. My ride’s
almost here too.

Clark grabs hold of the tree. Ed feels the hair on the back of his neck bristle as he looks behind him to see a twister in the distance. Now he has to shout over the wind.

ED
You be careful.

CLARK
No thank you.

Ed sprints back to the bus and climbs on board.

INT. BUS - SAME

Through the bus’s window, Ed looks back at the tree. The twister in the distance has grown much closer and much larger and although he’s been deeply affected and confused by his encounter with Clark, Ed chooses to say nothing.

TOBY
We’re gonna roll folks.

The bus pulls back onto the highway and picks up speed. Ed alone stares through the back window at the tree as the twister sweeps past and plucks it from the ground like a weed.
Violet notices something different about Ed as he snaps his gaze around to the front of the bus and shakes his head in disbelief.

VIOLET
What’s with you?

ED
I don’t know.

VIOLET
You look like you saw a ghost.

As the bus rolls down the highway, dozens of twisters can be seen moving slowly across the flats. The sight is mystifying. Dangerous and beautiful. They meander like living tops, wobbling and pulsating across a hundred square miles, moving in every direction. Toby keeps a steady line on the road, knowing that only fate would dictate any impending deadly encounter. Everyone is silent and reflective.

TOBY
Roll some windows down back there. There’s
enough low pressure through here we could pop.
Seen it too. Bus number thirty two from L.A.
Nineteen seventy two. Windows rolled up tight as
a drum - air conditioner runnin’ full blast - like
fillin’ up a balloon. Pressure outside dropped
like a rock and boom. That bus popped like a
barbecued bullfrog. I was runnin’ right behind
or I wouldn’t have believed it myself. I was
empty, just takin’ one over the river and was
gonna pick up in Little Rock - had all my windows
down - nobody on board to complain. Been
rollin’ ‘em down ever since - through the flats
anyway.

They each quickly roll down a window.

Ed shifts in his seat and feels something sticking him in the leg. He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out Clarks cracked glasses.


ED
How many times have you been through here Toby?

TOBY
Hundred. At least.

ED
You seem to know a lot about tornadoes.

TOBY
Have to.

ED
Could a man survive being picked up by a tornado
and carried a few miles without being killed?

TOBY
Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you.

ED
I mean if a man wanted to. If he wanted to ride
a tornado.

Toby laughs.

TOBY
You want to kill yourself you wait ‘til we get to
Idaho. Not on my shift.

ED
Not me. Just a regular man.

TOBY
Three hundred mile an hour wind. A blade of grass
could kill ya. Nothin’ can survive inside a tornado.
That’s why you don’t see nothin’ alive for
hundreds of miles at a stretch.

ED
Are you sure?

TOBY
You see any cows? No. You see any birds? No.
No mice, no snakes, no people. This is tornado flats.
Nothin’ lives in tornado flats - at least not for long.

Ed slips Clarks glasses on and presses them tightly to his face.

ED
That’s what I thought.

Ed slides the glasses to the tip of his nose and peers down through the cracked lenses.

ED
You know what a prostate is Toby?

TOBY
It’s a donut shaped gland about the size of a walnut
that surrounds the urethra. It secretes fluid necessary
to form semen that allow sperm to stay alive long
enough to ensure fertilization. Had to have mine cut
out a couple of years ago. You know what a bilateral
orchiectomy is?

ED
No.

TOBY
Cause you don’t want to know.

ED
No, I do.

TOBY
Let’s just say that my boys were forced to retire and
move to Florida.

Ed becomes anxious.

ED
You don’t have to tell me any more.

TOBY
They take the testicles off if they think their might be a
chance for any spread or recurrence. Stops the testosterone.
They said it’s better than bein’ dead. But I don’t know.
That’s why me and Daisy just talk.

VIOLET
(to Ed)
Aren’t you glad you can speak.

ED
What!? What did I do?

VIOLET
You don’t just ask someone about their prostate.

ED
I just asked if he knew what it was.

SETH
He does.

ED
What business is it of anyone’s if my - urine flow
is intermittent.

VIOLET
It’s nobody’s business - and nobody asked you.

TOBY
You have an intermittent flow.

ED
Yea. Why? Is that really bad?

TOBY
Have you ever had it checked?

ED
How did this become about me?

SETH
You said you had an intermittent flow.

Ed becomes agitated.

ED
Shut up. Look I’m under a lot of stress okay. It’s not easy
to do what I did.


VIOLET
You poor baby.

ED
Hey everybody on the planet knows who I am. Do you
think that’s easy. I can’t go anywhere. It’s unbelievable.
I have cameras pointed at me all the time twenty four seven
trying to catch me doing something human. What if they
caught someone’s finger up my ass. Any idea what that
would be like?

VIOLET
No.

ED
Well trust me - anybody would have a hard time peeing.

TOBY
I’m sure you’re fine. They let me take my boys home in
a jar.

Ed starts to hyperventilate.


ED
Oh my God!

TOBY
It’s some consolation.

SETH
Are they black?

VIOLET
Does every thought have to be expressed?

TOBY
It’s a fair question.

ED
Oh my God!

TOBY
Let’s just say - they turned black.

ED
Oh my God!

Ed runs into the bathroom, slams the door and begins to vomit as Toby suddenly hits the brakes. The bus holds a pulsing idle, stopped in the middle of the road.

TOBY
What the hell?

SETH
What is it?

TOBY
It’s a chicken.

VIOLET
Don’t hit it.

Seth and Violet join Toby in his curious gaze out the windshield. A small gray hen stands motionless in front of the bus.

SETH
What’s it doing?

TOBY
Nothin’. It’s just standin’ there.

VIOLET
It’s a sign.


SETH
Why did the chicken not cross the road?

Ed staggers out of the bathroom.

ED
Why did we stop?

SETH
A chicken.

VIOLET
There’s a chicken in the road.

ED
A chicken?

Ed goes to the window.
ED
It is a chicken. What’s it doing?

TOBY
Nothin’.


ED
Are there chickens out here?

TOBY
There’s one.

The chicken turns and stares directly at them.

TOBY
That’s the damnedest thing I’ve ever seen.

ED
Why is it looking at us?

TOBY
You askin’ me cause I’m black?

ED
What?

TOBY
Why you think I know everything about chickens?

ED
You seem to know a lot about a lot of things.

The chicken walks to the passenger side of the bus and begins to peck at the door. Toby becomes more agitated.

VIOLET
I think it wants to come in.

TOBY
Well it can’t come in.

SETH
Let’s give it a ride.

TOBY
No chickens on this bus.

VIOLET
Let it in.

TOBY
No. No chickens.

ED
I think we should let it in. It keeps pecking.


TOBY
I’m afraid of chickens. And turkeys.

SETH
We’ll keep it in the bathroom. It’s obviously lost and it’s
obviously intelligent.

VIOLET
We have to let it in.

Toby reluctantly pulls the waist-high handle that allows the buses side door to swing open. The chicken thrusts it head into the bus, flicks it 180 degrees in both directions and promptly hops in.

Totally focused, the chicken walks right up to Ed, turns around and poops on his shoe.

ED
Why?

VIOLET
It is intelligent.

The chicken goes to the back of the bus, hops up onto Ed’s seat and sits patiently as if he’s just waiting for the bus to get moving again.

CUT TO:

INT. BUS - LATER

Ed and the chicken are having an intimate but one-sided conversation.

ED
My parents were always at each other’s throats.
Always pecking at each other- you know. My dad
was like a slave. She never did anything. Bill - get me a
soda. Bill - come and pour milk on my cereal.
I wet the bed ‘til I was nineteen. I didn’t have
a girlfriend ‘til I was out of college. I never
even considered I was different. They always
told me how great I was. And somehow I always
thought they were lying. So when other people would say
I was great I wouldn’t believe it. Now people don’t
say it anymore. And I need people to say it even if
I don’t believe it. There was this dive bar down the
street from my parents house that I used to go to
after work when I still lived at home. There was
this waitress from Loves Restaurant that used to come
in after her shift to see Dave the bartender. He was the
first person I ever remember envying. He had it.
And I wanted to have it. From then on I think I’ve
been doing his character. That bar made me understand
what loneliness felt like. You could see every stage of
it in the people there. And I was the guy at the
first stage. I’d sit at the end of the bar by the front
door and look straight down the bar into my future.
And I could see right out the back door into the back
alley where Jan Japan would sit on the curb and
eat Pioneer Chicken out of the gutter with her drunk
bar-fuck. They were at the last stage. One Halloween
me and my friend Ron dressed in drag and went
down there and I sat down next to Priscilla - the Loves
waitress - and I looked pretty good in drag - Ron
was upset cause he wasn’t as pretty as I was. She
was making out with me within like five minutes -
right in front of Dave. I don’t remember a lot about
that five years but that somehow stands out. Dave
still works there.

The chicken looks up at Ed and clucks.

ED
So I won - right?

The chicken falls over and dies. Ed nudges it.

ED
Hey. Hey.

CUT TO:

EXT. MEADOW - DAY

Lavender wildflowers dominate the landscape in a wide fenceless meadow on the banks of a river as Ed, Seth and Violet form a tiny circle around a tiny grave. Toby waits in the bus. Seth wipes a tear from his eye.

SETH
These funerals are really getting to me.

ED
He was a good friend.

VIOLET
He was a chicken.

SETH
He had a pure soul.

ED
And he listened.

VIOLET
A chicken.

SETH
You don’t really believe that do you?

VIOLET
Oh no Seth please - not now.

SETH
Why do you dismiss alternate concepts of spirituality?

VIOLET
I’m catholic.

SETH
Say no more.

VIOLET
What’s that supposed to mean.

SETH
You don’t think that might impeach the truth a bit?

Violet’s voice goes up an octave and few decibels as she begins to get defensive.

VIOLET
You never have a point. You think your on such a higher
plane than everybody else.

ED
This really isn’t the time or place.

She begins to fume.

VIOLET
Not the time or the place. Since when do you decide what
the time or the place is. You don’t get to say what the
time or place is!

ED
It’s just that - (he gestures to the grave) - the chicken.

VIOLET
You see Seth! A chicken. It was a chicken!

SETH
It had a soul.

Violet becomes enraged.

VIOLET
No it didn’t! It was food.

SETH
What about the horse?

Violet gets eerily calm. She hangs her head.

ED
That can be food.

Her head snaps up. She has a wild look in her eyes. She grabs Ed in a headlock and begins punching him repeatedly in the face with all her strength. Ed’s face is bathed in blood as he finally manages to slither free.

ED
What are you doing?

He realizes that he’s bleeding and begins to freak out.

ED
You’re made me bleed! You made me bleed!!
Real blood!

Ed rushes her and tackles her to the ground. She reaches up and punches him as hard as she can in the nose. Ed flies onto his back and writhes as he clutches his face.

ED
You broke my nose! You broke my nose!

Violet starts to cry.

SETH
He’s sorry.

ED
I’m sorry? I’m sorry she broke my nose!?

SETH
You’re sorry you were insensitive - about the horse.

Violet punches Seth in the gut.

VIOLET
Eat fist Buddha.

Seth doubles over.

SETH
(gasping for air)
I’m not a Buddhist - I’m an unrestricted agnostic.

Violet punches him in the head, sending him to the ground. She kneels next to him and rubs his shoulder.

VIOLET
I’m so sorry.

SETH
It’s not about the horse - is it?

VIOLET
No.

ED
Is it about the chicken?

VIOLET
It’s about me. My life is so meaningless. Who am I?
What am I? Why am I?

SETH
You’ve never asked those questions before?

VIOLET
No.

SETH
Wow.

VIOLET
(sarcastic/angry)
You know everything Seth - why don’t you tell me.
You’re the super guru. You tell me the answers
to all life’s questions. Please - tell me.

SETH
None of those questions have answers. At least not real
answers.

VIOLET
No Seth - that’s the problem - they do. They do have
answers. And they usually end up humiliating you
and beating you down ‘til you’re dead.

Ed is holding his head back so his nose won’t bleed.

ED
So you got stuck in a bad pretend three day marriage
and your fake husband tried to kill you. He’s dead -
move on.

VIOLET
He wasn’t my fake husband.

Violet takes a deep breath.

VIOLET
He was my pimp.

Ed and Seth look at one another.

VIOLET
I came to L.A. to be an actress. I ran out of money
in about two weeks so I started hanging out in bars
in Bel Air and Beverly Hills. Guys would buy me
drinks and take me home and give me money. I
started working for Alan - that’s the guy in the Corvette -
the work was more steady and it seemed safe.
I was a prostitute for two years. Alan was always
possessive but the last year he started getting violent.
Anytime I’d mention getting my career on track he’d
beat the shit out of me and rape me. So I left.

ED
An actress?

VIOLET
Yeah. Just like you - except you became a movie star
and I became a prostitute.

ED
So that’s why you hate me?

VIOLET
That’s the main reason.

ED
Well - you gave up being a prostitute - I’ve always kinda wanted to try that.

Violet starts to cry.

SETH
I’ll bet Ed could get you a part.

ED
Sure I’ll just call all the people I just fucked out of millions
of dollars and I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to help out.

SETH
What if you went back for one more movie and took her
as a package deal - they wouldn’t say no to that. You
could get the jet with the personal chef. And a doctor.

ED
You threw my cell phone out the window.

SETH
I’m burned out. I don’t know what I’m doin’ half the time.
You could eat caviar and get your prostate checked.

Ed looks at Violet. She doesn’t say anything.

ED
What about that whole speech about being nice to someone
because you want something.

VIOLET
I’ve never been nice to you.

SETH
That’s true.

ED
(to Violet)
Would you want me to do that?

CUT TO:

INT. BUS - DAY

The bus rolls on. Violet is exhilarated. She seems transformed. She digs through her purse and comes up with a small pair of scissors with which she promptly starts to cut large chunks out of her hair.


VIOLET
What a rush. It wasn’t being a prostitute that was
killing me. It was not being an actress. God what a
burden. Now it’s lifted. You saved me Ed. You
gave up what I wanted. You threw away my dream.

ED
I’m sorry. Please stop cutting your hair.

She starts to take out bigger and bigger chunks.

VIOLET
Are you kidding? I’m finally free. I feel like my heart’s
gonna explode.

Hair begins to fly around the bus, lifted by the breeze through the windows.


ED
(picking hair from his lip)
It’s not a horrible dream - please stop cutting. I could
even get you a producers credit.

Her hair is butchered. Huge parts of her scalp are showing.

VIOLET
Lemme have a razor.

ED
Don’t you want to direct - You could direct.

VIOLET
Seth - razor.

Seth goes through his bag and hands Violet an electric razor. She flips it on and begins to shave her head to the skin.

ED
Please don’t.

VIOLET
We’re free Ed. You and me - we’re both free.

Toby yells back to them.

TOBY
Franklin Idaho in ten minutes.

Along the side of the road, people have begun to gather. Toby curiously watches the crowd grow as the bus rolls closer to town. As the spectators watch the bus pass, they wave and shout. At first Ed, Seth and Violet wave back until rocks begin to hit the bus. A large rock shatters the window right next to Ed’s head. He hears one of the angry mob scream at the bus as it passes by.


ANGRY MAN
Not in Franklin - go home Ed Mackey!

Other enraged crowd members begin screaming at Ed.

VIOLET
What’s happening.

There’s a newspaper wrapped around the rock that was hurled through the window. Seth picks up the rock, carefully peels the paper from it and reads the head-line out loud.

SETH
‘Ed Mackey Jr. in wild sex triangle with Michael Jackson
and Richard Simmons.’

ED
Oh my God.

SETH
Is this true?

Ed tears the paper from Seth’s hands. It’s the National Inquirer.

ED
They’re gonna eat me alive. My publicist always
handled this. Now I don’t have a publicist. Oh my
God. I don’t have a publicist.

The bus slows to a stop as the road fills with people, blocking it’s path. The growing crowd carry signs saying ‘No freaks in our freakin’ town.’

SETH
So it is true.

ED
Seth - please!!

The crowd starts to hit the bus with their signs.

TOBY
We’ve got a big problem here. What do want me to do?

ED
I quit. I’m not a movie star anymore. Don’t they know
that?

TOBY
We need to get out of here now.

Ed pulls down a window and yells out.


ED
I quit! I quit! I don’t do that anymore.

Left far too open for misinterpretation, Ed’s declaration is not greeted with a favorable response and hundreds of rotten potatoes begin to fly in his direction. Ed slams the window closed and quickly scurries to the other side of the bus.

SETH
Does he really have a pet monkey?

The bus jerks into reverse and Toby begins to drive backward, muttering to himself as he navigates through the rear-view mirror.

TOBY
(muttering)
Damn red necks - believe every damn thing they read.

ED
God - what’s that smell?

VIOLET
It’s something rotten.

SETH
It’s rotten potatoes.

ED
They’re throwing rotten potatoes at me.

TOBY
That’s mostly what Idaho smells like.

VIOLET
You couldn’t have gotten out of the box with your
own jet?

SETH
Ed! Rotten potatoes. This is the rotten potato. Idaho
is the rotten potato.

ED
You said L.A. was the rotten potato!

SETH
I was wrong.

ED
Well that’s just great.

Toby gets the bus turned around and speeds back the way they came.

CUT TO:

EXT. OPEN HIGHWAY - SAME

The bus disappears down the highway. CLOSE ON A SIGN that reads ‘Now Leaving Idaho.’


CUT TO:

INT. BUS - DAY

Ed is standing over the toilet in the bus’s bathroom. He looks disparaged as he unzips his pants and begins to pee. To his amazement he’s peeing like a horse. He hears Seth from outside the door.

SETH
Hey - keep it down in there.

VIOLET
He’s peeing.

SETH
I can hear.

VIOLET
No - he’s peeing.

Violet excitedly gets up and goes to the bathroom door.

VIOLET
(yelling through the door to Ed)
Your peeing!

Ed comes triumphantly out of the bathroom. Violet throws her arms around him.

SETH
(seeking some attention)
I pooped this morning.

VIOLET
He peed - uninterrupted.

ED
God that felt good.

The bus comes to an abrupt stop.

TOBY
I think you all better come up here.

A SMALL GREY CHICKEN stands in the middle of the road. Ed, Seth and Violet press against the window.

SETH
I told you it wasn’t just a chicken.

VIOLET
That’s not the same chicken - idiot.


TOBY
It looks like the same chicken.

ED
Well it obviously can’t be the same chicken. That
chicken’s dead. We buried it.

Toby stops the bus. As if from memory, the chicken hops up to the door of the bus and climbs aboard. It hops up on the seat next to Seth and stares straight ahead. There’s a long bewildered silence on the bus.

CUT TO:

EXT. CHICKEN GRAVE SITE - DAY

They’re all gathered around the spot where the chicken was buried. Ed is digging.

VIOLET
I can’t believe we’re digging up a dead chicken.

SETH
I wouldn’t be so sure.

ED
I’m not finding anything.

The other grey chicken looks on from the top of the bus.

VIOLET
Dig.

ED
It’s not here.

VIOLET
It’s gotta be there.

SETH
You’re not gonna find any chicken.

VIOLET
Some animal must have dug it up or something.

ED
Hey - your hair.

Violet feels her hair. The parts that she had cut just hours before have now grown in.
Ed pulls Clark’s glasses from his pocket to get a closer look at Violet’s hair. He slips the glasses on and feels her head. He’s amazed.


VIOLET
Weren’t those glasses cracked?

Ed takes glasses off and inspects them. The lenses are smooth and polished like new with no sign of a crack or even a scratch. He puts them back on and gazes out across the highway into the desolate vastness of the prairie - there’s nothing for miles. He takes the glasses off and hands them to Violet who puts them on for a moment. She looks out toward the highway. In the distance, a twister drops suddenly from the sky, lifting whatever loose dirt and grass from the earth and pulling it into it’s spawning cloud. Violet pulls Clarks glasses from her utterly confused face and tries to spot the twister again only to find it gone.

She sees something moving out in the distance. She quickly snaps the glasses back on and is stunned at what she sees. The fat woman riding the horse that was hit by the bus. She’s galloping effortlessly across the wide open prairie. Violet presses her head forward in disbelief. She slips the glasses off and tries to hand them back to Ed.

ED
Keep ‘em. I have a feeling I’m not gonna need
’em anymore.

VIOLET
What’s going on?

ED
Suddenly I feel... free.


VIOLET
Suddenly I feel sick. That horse is dead! That
chicken is dead! Is John fucking Lennon gonna
come flying over the prairie?

ED
I feel alive. That heavy feeling in my chest is gone.

VIOLET
I have that feeling. I’ve never had that feeling before.
My life has totally sucked and I’ve never had this
feeling before.

She takes a compact from her purse and flips the mirror up. Her reflection shows a more care-worn face than she’d ever seen looking back at her before. She pulls the glasses off, carefully folds them up and puts them into her purse.

CUT TO:

INT. BUS - DUSK

As the bus rolls West, Ed and Violet sit toward the back, Toby is driving, Seth and the chicken are sitting somewhere in between.

TOBY
That chicken spooks me. I’ve never turned
a bus around in my life. I’ve transported my
share of experiences but I’ve never turned one
around before - I don’t even know if it’s
possible.


ED
What did you say?

TOBY
Never mind.

ED
Did you say transported experiences?

The chicken clucks loudly and flaps it’s wings.

TOBY
I might have.

SETH
(to Toby)
So what happens now?

Seth and Toby seem to share some common knowledge.

TOBY
I don’t know. I told you - I’ve never turned one
around before.

SETH
Well this is just great.

Ed becomes suspicious.

ED
What’s going on?

EXT. BUS - SAME

The bus enters the same tunnel they had gone through before but this time headed in the other direction. The bus comes out the other side of the tunnel and into a thunderous hailstorm.

INT. BUS - SAME

TOBY
I don’t think it wants us back.


VIOLET
What doesn’t want us back?

SETH
That what we left behind..

ED
Well I don’t think it has a choice.

Seth and Toby share a look of bewilderment and anxiety.

ED
(continued)
Does it?

Seth gets up and goes to sit up front with Toby. A bolt of lightning hits the road just in front of the bus causing Toby to veer sideways and struggle to regain control again.

TOBY
This is why they never let me backtrack.

Hail starts pounding the bus so hard that Toby has to pull to the side of the road. As soon as the bus stops, the hail abruptly ceases.

As the sky clears Toby sees someone running across the highway toward the bus. A very wet and disoriented man approaches the door to the bus, his coat pulled tightly over his head. Toby opens the door to let him in. He pulls his head out from under his coat - it’s Clark.


CLARK
Can you give me a lift into town. My car got
flooded out and I’ve got finals tomorrow.

TOBY
Finals? Is that what they call it nowadays?

CLARK
Yes sir. Oklahoma State. Sooners.

Toby gives him a knowing look.

TOBY
Sooner - later - it’s all the same to me.
Take a seat. I’ll try to get us goin’.

CLARK
Thanks. You’re doin’ a great job.

TOBY
Just take a seat.

Clark leans in to Toby and becomes deadly serious.

CLARK
Don’t fuck with me old man. You just hang
on for a little while longer and you move up.
If it were up to me you’d be behind that wheel
forever - lucky for you I don’t make the rules.


TOBY
I don’t like you. I never liked you.

CLARK
Nobody does. Then everybody does. Then nobody
does. It doesn’t matter to me. It’s my job to make
sure people get what they want. Plain and simple.

TOBY
No matter what?

CLARK
No matter what.

Clark walks to the back of the bus. He can’t take his eyes off of Violet. He sits down next to her. Ed hasn’t recognized him yet.

VIOLET
Do I know you?


CLARK
No - but I sure feel like I know you. I’m a huge
fan.

Violet thinks it’s a pick-up line.

VIOLET
That’s a new one.

CLARK
I’m sure you get that all the time. It’s just that
when people see you in a movie I guess they think
they know you. Sorry - I’m Clark Feltz. I’m
studying to be a doctor.

VIOLET
I’ve never been in a movie.

CLARK
You’re Violet Bains aren’t you?

VIOLET
How do you know my name?

CLARK
Everybody knows your name. You’re famous.
Would you sign this for me?

He rifles through his wallet and pulls out what he thinks is a small piece of paper.

VIOLET
That’s your drivers licence.

CLARK
I lost my glasses in the storm. What’s this?

He pulls out his Social Security card and hands it to Violet.

VIOLET
You’re funny. Or crazy. But you’re pathetic and
a little homely - just my type.

She pulls the glasses from her purse.

VIOLET
(continued)
Try these.

Clark slips the glasses over the hump in his nose and they snap into place like a puzzle piece.


CLARK
Wow. These are perfect. Who’d believe that
I have the same astigmatism as Violet Bains.

VIOLET
Will you stop saying my name - and it’s Ed’s
astigmatism - Ed - and he’s a movie star. Maybe
you’ve got us mixed up - although I don’t see how.

Clark laughs. Without totally standing up, Clark swings his body back to the seat next to Ed. He looks Ed in the eye. Ed recognizes him but before he can say anything Clark puts his finger to Ed’s lips. He gives Ed a knowing wink. Clarks tone is introspective and omniscient.

CLARK
I needed my glasses back. I have finals tomorrow.
I’m really near-sighted - sometimes I cant’ see two
feet in front of me. You know what I mean?

ED
Not really.

CLARK
I mean that if a big movie star like Violet Bains was
interested in an ordinary guy like me, and if I were
you - God forbid - I’d be all over that. By the way,
how’s your pee-pee?

Ed is taken aback and intimidated by Clark’s presence.


ED
Fine. Better.

CLARK
Life’s a funny thing Ed. Everybody has their ups
and downs - you know. Everybody’s confused
and insecure, filled with self-doubt and self-loathing.
We all share one thing - we’re all gonna die. Do
you know what I’m getting at?

ED
No not really.

CLARK
Everybody meets the same end - we just want to get
there with a little dignity - with a little class. People
just don’t seem to ever appreciate the things that they
have - blessings Ed - blessings.

ED
That’s true.

CLARK
What a person needs is more important than what a
person wants. I’m just here to make sure that people
learn that important and painful lesson.

Clark looks out the window. The sun has broken through and the sky is doubly bright, shining off of the wet ground. There’s a full rainbow on the horizon that colors Clarks glasses.

CLARK
(continued)
Looks like the weather’s clearing up. I gotta go.

Clark pushes himself to his feet and leans in to Violet.

CLARK
It was a great pleasure to meet you. I hope you
change your mind and go back to making movies,
you’re such a great talent.


VIOLET
Who the fuck are you?

Clark takes quiet offense to her attitude. He gets in close to her face. He addresses her with controlled anger.

CLARK
See your friend back there was dying inside.
Pissing his life away - literally. Now he’s all
better. And you have what you always wanted.
So good luck with that. Just remember - things
aren’t always what they’re cracked up to be.

Clark laughs to himself as he takes the glasses off and hands them to Violet. She looks down an the lenses, now cracked again.

When she looks up, Clark is standing outside the bus as it pulls away. Clark has the chicken under his arm. The chicken flaps it’s wings wildly, trying to break free of Clark’s grasp. He gives a condescending wave as the bus rolls slowly past him...

THE SOUND OF THE BUSS ROLLING AWAY DISSOLVES INTO THE SOUND OF BUSSES COMING AND GOING IN FRONT OF A BUS STATION.....

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. BUS STATION - MIDNIGHT

Violet Bains sits quietly behind black sunglasses waiting for her bus. Her sleeves roll down past her wrists to the base of her thumbs and her frayed bell-bottoms drag well below her boot heels. The wide brim of a beat-up cowboy hat shades all but just a hint of her perfect chin. She believes that she’s mastered a consummate disguise but ironically her determination to be anonymous makes her the target of every eye. She stares straight ahead, pretending not to be noticed.

She lights a short filterless cigarette with the tiny butt of one burned down to nothing, flicking what’s left to the ground in a silent shower of sparks. She tries to ignore the pain, secretly rubbing her singed fingers together.

From a distant corner of the terminal, Violet spots a man approaching; a very effeminate man drawn toward her like a giddy bride waving a pen and an old bus ticket stub like a bouquet. Violet pretends to remain unaware until that awkward moment of unwanted contact. He stands before her as if to offer his virtue. Violet snatches the pen and the old bus ticket stub from his hand and hides them under her coat. She pulls him down by his coat onto the bench beside her. She speaks to him softly, making sure no one else hears.

VIOLET
How did you know who I was?

MAN
You wore that hat in Whiskey Train. And those
were the glasses from Risk Factor. You were
so funny in that movie.

VIOLET
It wasn’t a comedy.

MAN
I’d be honored to have your autograph. Could you
make it to ‘my true love, Stephen, love Violet Bains.’

She takes out the pen, signs his ticket stub and hands it back to him, making sure that no one sees her do it.

VIOLET
I’d really rather not have anybody know I’m here.

MAN
Maybe you should stop wearing clothes from
your movies. Listen to me - telling Violet Bains
what to do.

VIOLET
No you have a good point. Too recognizable.
I always tried to tell them my clothes were too
recognizable but they wouldn’t listen. That’s the
problem Stephen. Nobody listens.

Hearing Violet speak his name gets him very excited and nervous...and strangely possessive.

MAN
Who are you waiting for? Are you waiting for
someone?

Violet counters his energy by becoming dead calm.

VIOLET
No. I’m on the next bus. I’ve quit making movies
and I’m leaving L.A.- tonight.

MAN
Like in Runaway when you left Wall Street for
Mel Gibson. You were so strong.

VIOLET
But this isn’t a movie.

MAN
If it were I’d be in a Violet Bains movie. I’d
just die.

He practically passes out at the thought.

VIOLET
I really don’t want anyone to know I’m here
so if you could just.....

The man takes his prize and prances off across the terminal to a far corner where his friend waits for him. The man whispers to his friend and they both gaze dreamily in Violet’s direction. She pulls the brim of her hat down over her eyes, gets up and ambles over to the ticket window. Seth Molen, the ticket clerk sits in the small glass booth. Violet dejectedly pushes her ticket across the counter. She never looks up at Seth.

VIOLET
I’d like to trade this ticket in.

SETH
Is there a problem?

VIOLET
I just need to get on a different bus.

SETH
There’s no other bus to where you’re going?

VIOLET
I don’t care, just get me another ticket.

SETH
Where to?

VIOLET
Surprise me.

SETH
The next bus out ends up in Franklin Idaho on
... next Thursday. Number sixty-nine. Weather
won’t let us take you through straight north, so
you’ll have to travel sixty six to Oklahoma and
then up and around.

VIOLET
How many people live in Franklin Idaho?

SETH
Not as many as in L.A.

VIOLET
Sixty nine then.

CUT TO:

INT. CHURCH - FUNERAL - SAME

CLOSE ON ED’S FACE as he lays still in the open eternal-flame coffin. A elegy is being given. Ed’s face twitches slightly. A voice booms out from the back of the church - it’s a movie director.

DIRECTOR
Cut! Can someone get that extra to stop twitching.
He’s supposed to be dead.

An ASSISTANT DIRECTOR approaches the coffin.

ASSISTANT DIRECTOR
Look - if you keep twitching you’re gonna have to
go home and you won’t get your thirty-five bucks.
So just lay there dead and don’t twitch.

ED
Gotcha.

DIRECTOR
And - action.

The elegy starts again. Ed’s face twitches.

DIRECTOR
That’s it. Close the lid.


ED
What?

DIRECTOR
It’s now a closed-casket funeral.

The assistant director goes over and closes the lid of the coffin.

CUT TO:

INT. BUS STATION - SAME

SETH
I know what you’re going through. It’s like a
box. It’s like a box that gets smaller and
smaller. Everybody’s watching and everybody
wants something. I know. You need to get out
of the box.

VIOLET
Can I just have my ticket?

Seth is insulted.

SETH
That’s another thirty six dollars.

Violet sees that she’s insulted him.

VIOLET
Hey I didn’t mean to be a bitch.
It’s just that - you don’t know me.

SETH
But I was listening.

VIOLET
I’m sorry.

SETH
You said nobody listens. Am I nobody?

VIOLET
I’m just not used to dealing with regular people.
(she pulls down her sunglasses)
I’m a movie star.

CUT BACK TO:

FUNERAL SCENE - SAME

CLOSE ON ED, still in the coffin. He hears a bell ring.

DIRECTOR
That’s lunch. Back in one hour.

Ed can hear people shuffling and scurrying about for a few moments until finally it’s silent.

Ed’s muffled voice from inside the closed coffin. The stage is empty.

ED
Hello. I’m still alive. Hello. I better get my
thirty five bucks.

Two men walk onto the set and approach the coffin. The two men are Jesse and Clark.

JESSE
This is a great job.

CLARK
We thought you’d be perfect for it.


JESSE
I knew something would come my way.

One at each end, they pick up the coffin and carry it out. They ignore Ed’s muffled cries from inside.

CUT TO:

EXT. HEARST - DAY

Jesse and Clark are loading the coffin into the back of the Hearst.

CUT TO:

INT. BUS - DAY

The light in the very back of the bus flickers with each ripple in the road. The buzzing of the wheels is amplified by the absence of warm bodies and the flickering light adds unnecessary drama to Violet and Seth sitting side by side, knees touching, talking with the intensity of a real conversation.


SETH
It’s like rub-adub-dub.

VIOLET
Explain.

SETH
Rub-a-dub-dub three men in a tub and how
do you think they got there? The butcher
the baker the candlestick maker, they all
jumped out of a rotten potato. ‘Twas enough
to make a man stare.

VIIOLET
Is that really how that goes?

SETH
That’s really how it goes.

VIOLET
That’s intense.

SETH
And we’re them.

VIOLET
Who?

CUT TO:

EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY

The Hearst is stalled in the middle of a desolate highway. Jesse and Clark stand with the hood open looking in at the motor.

JESSE
What wrong with it?

CLARK
Don’t you know?

JESSE
Maybe the carburetor?

CLARK
You don’t know anything about cars - do you?

JESSE
I know this one’s not moving.

CLARK
That’s why I travel by air.

JESSE
There’s a town about a mile up the road. I used to work
there. They have a good mechanic.

Jesse and Clark leave the Hearst and disappear on foot, around a bend in the road.

CUT TO:

EXT. HIGHWAY - SAME

The bus is moving quickly along the highway being paralleled by a yellow Corvette.

CUT TO:

INT. HEARST - SAME

Ed is pounding on the inside of the casket.


ED
Hey! Is anybody there? It’s getting hard to breathe
in here.

CUT TO:

EXT. HIGHWAY - SAME

The yellow Corvette is headed straight for the Hearst as it comes around a corner. The Corvette slams into the Hearst and disintegrates on impact. The coffin is ejected from the back of the Hearst and tumbles end over end into a deep ravine.

EXT. CANYON BOTTOM - SAME

The coffin eventually comes to a rest at the bottom of the canyon. Ed moans.

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. HIGHWAY - LATER

The bus is parked beside the Hearst whose front end crushed by the impact of the accident and the back doors flung wide open. Violet and Seth are inspecting inside the back when they suddenly see Ed as he climbs the last few steps out of the canyon. He’s beaten up badly - clutching his ribs and limping. Ed spots Violet and Seth and yells out.

ED
Hey! (grabbing his ribs) Ouch.

VIOLET
Are you okay?

ED
You’re Violet Bains.

Ed limps over and shakes her hand.

ED
I’m Ed. You are one horrible actress. Nice to meet you.

Toby yells from the bus.

TOBY
You need some help there son?


ED
If you could just get me to a doctor.

TOBY
You all help him up. We gotta get on the road -
we got some bad weather comin’ up behind us.

ED
(to Seth)
Where you guys headed.

SETH
Don’t know.

ED
Maybe I’ll tag along?



FADE OUT:


THE END