The Groovy Adventures of Matt Locke: Job - Part 1
August 25th 2006 04:39
THE GROOVY ADVENTURES OF MATT LOCKE: JOB - PART 1
We see a lounge room, the lighting suggests that it’s mid-day, and as the sunlight streams through the bent, half-broken venetian blinds we catch sight of various empty cans, dirty clothes and discarded fast food rubbish strewn across the mottled carpet. The lounge itself forms the centerpiece of the room, albeit somewhat sadly, with it’s various stains, holes and occasional stray springs breaking through from the back. This lounge is obviously at least fifteen years old, and badly treated to boot.
We see Matt, one of two tenants in the house (the more easy-going and dazed of the two), staggering into the room. He has just woken up; his hair unruly, his face unshaven, his eyes half-closed. He walks past the lounge and to the kitchen, an equally messy room consisting mainly of a fridge, a bench and a rather wobbly wooden table. Matt opens the fridge, squinting in the fridge-light, and piles up some food and implements into his arms. He turns to the table (letting the fridge door slowly meander back in place) and drops the various items down on top of it. We see a box of dry cat food, a bowl, a spoon, some chopsticks and an already opened beer.
Matt sits down at the table, pours some cat food into the bowl, and then pours the flattened beer in. He sits and stares at the concoction and furrows his brow as if deep in thought. He gets up and walks over to the lounge, lifts up one of the cushions, and pulls out a can of baked beans. He walks back to the table, pulls the top off the beans, and tips the entire can’s worth on top of the beer and cat food. He sits back down.
Leif, the other tenant in the house, crawls out from behind the lounge (up over the top, and then rolling down onto the floor). He staggers to his feet, flicks his long, greasy blonde hair behind his ears and reaches back behind the lounge. He pulls out a large purple and white striped felt top-hat and squeezes it down onto his head, sneering in annoyance as he does so. He turns and scowls at Matt. Matt looks up, a vague look glazing over his eyes, and he thinks for a moment, then looking at Leif.
Matt: Pepper-mint. Spear-mint. Why not beer-mint?
Leif (narrowing his eyes): ‘Cause you’re a fucking idiot. What are you doing man?
Matt: Eating me breakfast.
Matt begins his futile efforts to eat his vile breakfast using the chopsticks. Leif walks out of the room. We hear him swear in the distance and then he returns, he walks over to Matt, stands in front of him, and lightly slaps him in the forehead to get his attention.
Matt (annoyed): What?!
Leif: Go and stomp the toilet down.
Matt: Just flush it.
Leif: It won’t flush you maniac.
Matt: Why should I stomp it? I’m trying to eat.
Leif: You owe me money for rent. Therefore, you are legally my slave. That's true, it's a law. So go into that bathroom and stomp the fuckin’ toilet down before I press your face into that bowl of filth you’re trying to eat from.
Matt screws up his face in frustration and walks out to the bathroom. Leif watches him go and then races over to the fridge, quickly opening it to pull out a jar of jalapeno chili’s, and then tipping a few into the froth covered bowl that Matt claims to be his breakfast. He chuckles sneakily and puts the chili’s away. Matt comes trudging back into his room, his socks wet and soaked. He shakes his head and tuts to himself as he sits down to continue his eating. Leif watches eagerly as Matt stares at his food. Matt looks up, a tad angry.
Matt: Leif you cunt! You know chili spoils the cat food. You know it. What am I gonna eat now? Huh?
Leif: I dunno. Something normal. Something that’s actually included in one of the four food groups?
Matt (beaming at Leif, an idea dawning on him): I know! Why don’t we eat… lard!
Leif: Why don’t I smash you in the head with a bar of iron?
Matt: Okay professor, what do you think we should eat?
Leif: A balanced and healthy diet?
They both stare at each other for a moment and then burst into laughter.
There is a knock at the door. They look at each other.
Matt & Leif (at the same time): Bags not getting it!
The knocking at the door continues, a little louder and slightly haphazardly.
Matt: I bet ya it’s Addy.
Leif: It might be the mailman…
Matt (excited): I’ll get it!
Matt gets up, still clutching his spoon, and races over to answer the door…
TO BE CONTINUED…
We see a lounge room, the lighting suggests that it’s mid-day, and as the sunlight streams through the bent, half-broken venetian blinds we catch sight of various empty cans, dirty clothes and discarded fast food rubbish strewn across the mottled carpet. The lounge itself forms the centerpiece of the room, albeit somewhat sadly, with it’s various stains, holes and occasional stray springs breaking through from the back. This lounge is obviously at least fifteen years old, and badly treated to boot.
We see Matt, one of two tenants in the house (the more easy-going and dazed of the two), staggering into the room. He has just woken up; his hair unruly, his face unshaven, his eyes half-closed. He walks past the lounge and to the kitchen, an equally messy room consisting mainly of a fridge, a bench and a rather wobbly wooden table. Matt opens the fridge, squinting in the fridge-light, and piles up some food and implements into his arms. He turns to the table (letting the fridge door slowly meander back in place) and drops the various items down on top of it. We see a box of dry cat food, a bowl, a spoon, some chopsticks and an already opened beer.
Matt sits down at the table, pours some cat food into the bowl, and then pours the flattened beer in. He sits and stares at the concoction and furrows his brow as if deep in thought. He gets up and walks over to the lounge, lifts up one of the cushions, and pulls out a can of baked beans. He walks back to the table, pulls the top off the beans, and tips the entire can’s worth on top of the beer and cat food. He sits back down.
Leif, the other tenant in the house, crawls out from behind the lounge (up over the top, and then rolling down onto the floor). He staggers to his feet, flicks his long, greasy blonde hair behind his ears and reaches back behind the lounge. He pulls out a large purple and white striped felt top-hat and squeezes it down onto his head, sneering in annoyance as he does so. He turns and scowls at Matt. Matt looks up, a vague look glazing over his eyes, and he thinks for a moment, then looking at Leif.
matt
Leif (narrowing his eyes): ‘Cause you’re a fucking idiot. What are you doing man?
Matt: Eating me breakfast.
Matt begins his futile efforts to eat his vile breakfast using the chopsticks. Leif walks out of the room. We hear him swear in the distance and then he returns, he walks over to Matt, stands in front of him, and lightly slaps him in the forehead to get his attention.
Matt (annoyed): What?!
Leif: Go and stomp the toilet down.
Matt: Just flush it.
Leif: It won’t flush you maniac.
Matt: Why should I stomp it? I’m trying to eat.
Leif: You owe me money for rent. Therefore, you are legally my slave. That's true, it's a law. So go into that bathroom and stomp the fuckin’ toilet down before I press your face into that bowl of filth you’re trying to eat from.
Matt screws up his face in frustration and walks out to the bathroom. Leif watches him go and then races over to the fridge, quickly opening it to pull out a jar of jalapeno chili’s, and then tipping a few into the froth covered bowl that Matt claims to be his breakfast. He chuckles sneakily and puts the chili’s away. Matt comes trudging back into his room, his socks wet and soaked. He shakes his head and tuts to himself as he sits down to continue his eating. Leif watches eagerly as Matt stares at his food. Matt looks up, a tad angry.
Matt: Leif you cunt! You know chili spoils the cat food. You know it. What am I gonna eat now? Huh?
Leif: I dunno. Something normal. Something that’s actually included in one of the four food groups?
Matt (beaming at Leif, an idea dawning on him): I know! Why don’t we eat… lard!
Leif: Why don’t I smash you in the head with a bar of iron?
Matt: Okay professor, what do you think we should eat?
Leif: A balanced and healthy diet?
They both stare at each other for a moment and then burst into laughter.
There is a knock at the door. They look at each other.
Matt & Leif (at the same time): Bags not getting it!
The knocking at the door continues, a little louder and slightly haphazardly.
Matt: I bet ya it’s Addy.
Leif: It might be the mailman…
Matt (excited): I’ll get it!
Matt gets up, still clutching his spoon, and races over to answer the door…
TO BE CONTINUED…
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