Scene 2.11 - A Tall Tale
EST: INT. VFW Canteen - Day.
ECU: Big, cold, foamy beer glass. BOBBY’S hand takes it and...
ZOOM OUT: ...puts it to his mouth, he smiles.
(BOBBY is sitting at the bar in the canteen, taking a break.)
OLD JAKE
And back in my day, they had real wars! Not some pansy from some dust-speck-of-a-country. We fought Hitler! Now, he was a real bad ‘un. Back then, we didn’t push buttons to kill someone, we stuck ‘em with our bayonets!
BOBBY
Hitler?! Adolf Hitler? Wouldn't that make you like, a hundred and fifty or something? How old are you?
BARTENDER
Old Jake, he gets confused...
(Shows big-breasted German girl with swatzika pasties on empty bottle's label, then rouses JAKE.)
CUT TO:
ECU: Empty bottle
BARTENDER (Cont'd)
Jake! Wanna other one?
(JAKE nods, BARTENDER goes to cooler for another Nazi Hefeweisen, since 2032.)
OLD JAKE
A bunch of sissies! Them or-eye-en-tills, Chinese, Japanese, Siamese, Lebanese -- No real weapons, no science ... (Pause. Is he asleep?) ... no tactics, no real army! Just pushed a button: dropped a bomb or two, and it was over. (Distant:) Nothing like Normandy.
BOBBY
You were in Normandy?
OLD JAKE
Son, they had things at Normandy you’ll never see in your history books. Weird stuff. Betcha no one toldjaboutdem Nazis, betcha didn’t know, but them Nazis, they was shooting at us with (Almost whispered:) laser beams!
BOBBY
Laser beams?
BARTENDER
Last one for you, Jake.
OLD JAKE
They were working on the bomb, too! We just beat them to it. Rockets and satellites and what-not. I saw half of it up-close and personal-like. You see, my unit was in tactical command -- special operations; counter-intelligence with the (Sits up with adequate posture:) Fourth Infantry Division. Now, we took this bunker-
BARTENDER
Not the bunker story again, Jake...
DISSOLVE TO: The bunker story, illustrated perfectly.
(Actually, OLD JAKE is quite humble in his storytelling, he’s Audie Murphy and John Rambo all-in-one. We see him descend from a pile of dead Nazi soldiers and SS guards, armed to the teeth. He’s got a battle buddy using a flame thrower to mop-up. Laser beams and mechanical Nazi drones fly overhead. They press on, undaunted.)
OLD JAKE V.O.
After taking down a few of their so-called "elite" stormtroopers, we uncovered a secret door, leading to one of those lah-bore’-a-tor”-ee get-ups like the kind you see at the monster mat-in-ay. Wouldn’t-cha-knowit, inside we found a whole platoon of frozen Nazis -- in what-choo-call-it -- suspender animation -- with all kinds of computers and widgets and doo-hickeys and gizmos. They were in these big vacuum tubes, like in the back of an ol' television -- what-choo-call-it -- kahn-soul, and they had them big, dark goggles with lotsa crazy wires hooked to them and they was going straight into the insides of their heads! What ol’ Hitler was really up to, I dunno, but we sure torched ‘em up real good!
(OLD JAKE cackles as we see a flame-thrower igniting the tubes and the art-deco computer tape reels.)
DISSOLVE TO: Bartender lighting OLD JAKE’S hand-rolled snipe cigarette.
BARTENDER
Okay, we’ve heard enough, Jake. Our comrade is going to sing some more for us, wouldn’t you rather hear some music, Jake?
(Everybody gets up except OLD JAKE.)
OLD JAKE
Yeah, he don’t know ... them or-eye-en-tills didn’t have no glass goggles, you know why, son? (Grabs his sleeve:) You know why?
BOBBY
(Stops, leans slightly.) Uh, why?
OLD JAKE
(Insanely to the point:) Cuz them goggles were made for round-eyed Nazis! That’s why! Hitler was going to send ‘em over in torpedoes from his U-boats, but we beat him to the punch! They never even got out of France! Caught him with his pants down!
(OLD JAKE cackles again.)
BOBBY
(He pulls away, politely.) It sounds -- real interesting, sir.
OLD JAKE
Oh, you don’t believe me, huh? Yeah, I didn’t think anyone would believe me back then either -- that’s why my buddy and I brought two of ‘em back home as war souvenirs!
BARTENDER
Jake-
OLD JAKE
Told shipping and manifest that they were “sensitive radio parts for a telescopic antenna!” (Cackles, coughs, cackles some more until the breath fades and he inhales again -- louder:) Big ol' dark vacuum tubes!
BARTENDER
Time to go home, Jake. (A little too direct:) You’ve said enough.
OLD JAKE
(He gets up.) Aw, fine, don’t believe me, but if you look in the basement there-
BARTENDER
(Helping OLD JAKE out of his chair.) All right, Jake! Your cab’s here!
(Nods to another vet, throws his keys from the key rack on the wall behind the bar as vet exits with OLD JAKE.)
OLD JAKE
Aw, just a bunch of junk down there anyway. (Gestures to basement door:) Go on! Take a gander fer yerself, if ya don’t believe me!
(OLD JAKE exits with a comrade.)
BARTENDER
I’ve gotta apologize for Old Jake. (Taps temple:) He’s not as sharp as he used to be.
BOBBY
Aw, it’s all right. (Taps temple:) I’m not as gullible as I used to be, either.
BARTENDER
I got all of your albums, but I never knew you were a vet. Which war were you in?
BOBBY
(Pause.) The Gulf War.
BARTENDER
What? (Puzzled:) Iraq?
BOBBY
No, the one before it, the first one, the liberation of Kuwait.
BARTENDER
Oh yeah... right. Hey- that was quite-a-while back, wasn't it?
BOBBY
Yeah.
BARTENDER
Not many war stories, huh?
BOBBY
Nothing you’d wanna believe.
BARTENDER
No one really died in that one, did they?
BOBBY
Not many. Traffic accidents, mostly. Friendly-fire for the rest. It was a long time ago.
BARTENDER
Yeah. What year was that?
BOBBY
(Flatly:) Nineteen ninety-one.
BARTENDER
Oh yeah -- Yeah, right. First Old Jake, now you. (Leans in to look at BOBBY, close.) It’s okay if you’re not really a comrade, because your story doesn’t fit, your age just doesn’t fit, and I don’t wanna card ya, you’re a guest of the club, and I'm a big fan, so it’s okay. I know science has been able to make some men younger, I know that’s true. And sure, Old Jake just might be a hundred and fifty, who knows? But you? (Starts seeing some evidence of BOBBY’S age, starts to believe him.) It’s unreal. Almost unnatural, but here you are, saying you’re... How do you do it? You don’t look a day over thirty.
BOBBY
(Puts out cigarette, finishes beer.) Nice of you to say. I turned a hundred this year... Good thing I got a life membership, huh?
(BOBBY tosses his card onto the bar and the BARTENDER smiles, almost beaming that BOBBY is a card-carrying life member, and instantly refills BOBBY’S glass.)
ECU: Glass being filled, sporadically lit with flashbulbs, increasingly faster until:
MUSIC UP
(Same beat as what we’ll get later, just more subtle and techno)
FLASHBACK SCENE: INT. Airport
(BOBBY steps with wife and crew in tow from a futuristic plane. They don’t take the normal concourse. They have a specially-mapped route. On a second viewing, one would notice the host of mobsters watching Bobby’s back from inside the crowd. He is dressed well and is bathed in constant flash photography throughout, he never takes off his sunglasses and all we really hear are hundreds of screams of women trying to get to him through a wall of security. At the end of the long procession which FESTUS adequately ensures BOBBY’S personal walking space, the legitimate press meets him at a small media section of velvet rope next to the door to the limo through the airport. BOBBY lights a cigarette and smokes most of it before FESTUS notices and abruptly takes it from him and hands it to a security guard to quickly extinguish. The reporters constantly ask about three hundred versions of the same questions that we get in this scene, but those get no answer, like most of the other questions constantly being asked by everyone. PERCY and PANDORA stay silent and behind BOBBY, locked arm-in-arm, smiling and trying to appear confident. Even though PANDORA is experienced at being famous, she still finds the intense scrutiny of the mass media daunting, especially at the level in which BOBBY receives it. Elvis has just left the plane. PERCY finds it overwhelming. FESTUS feels like he’s at home already; comfortable among throngs of spectators.)
PERSON 1
How are you celebrating your birthday?
BOBBY
A quiet evening at home with my wife and her friends.
FESTUS
No close ups! Back!
PERSON 2
What’s your secret? The drugs or the plastic surgury?
BOBBY
Both. Having a wife eighty years younger than me helps me keep it up.
PERSON 3
I want to make love to you, Bobby. I want you inside me, Bobby.
BOBBY
Lemme guess, you want my baby, too... gotta talk to the wife about that.
PERSON 4
Bobby! Any plans for kids?
BOBBY
We’re adopting Pandora.
PERSON 5
Is Pandora having a secret affair with Percy?
BOBBY
Well, it’s not a secret affair if I already know about it.
FESTUS
(Pulls an anonymous APHRODITE from the crowd into the procession. There are no small parts, only... This cameo extra must read like she’s professionally a total-knockout-superstar-model-babe that somehow stumbled on the scene out of providence and idle, curious boredom. She seems to make the rest of the cast look downright homely, even though all in the cast are perfect 10s. For the few frames she is on, however, she takes stage -- only to the camera and FESTUS, however, because no one else takes notice. She is oblivious to BOBBY’S presence and thinks ugly ol’ FESTUS is the cat’s meow. The casting director is invaluable at times like these. Cameos are the hardest to do without going over the top or letting the primadonna actor or actress batter the scene to death by overacting, grandly gesturing or hamming it up, or worst of all, rewriting the scene to placate their fear of doing it the way the writer intended. Natural behavior does wonders when in a casting pickle or when the springs of the casting couch seem rusty. You need a debutante who is nearly invisible now and yet completely unforgettable later as RONNIE. FESTUS pulls her close and mutters lovingly into her ear while she naturally walks to the stretch limosuine like a model on a runway:) Doll, you can ride with us in the limo. Just stay close to Uncle Festus, and I’ll put a rock on that finger so big you’ll need counterweights to wear it.
(Like a conversation where you’re at a loud party and you’re yelling a punchline to a joke for the third time to a seemingly-deaf ear: “Then the bartender said to the lady, let me show you my penis extention!” And you suddenly realize there was just enough lull, not silence, just lull enough so everyone, even those who were talking, could hear the end part. They get: “Let me show you my penis extention!” Such is this man’s comment from far behind the velvet rope. We get: “Back to the Middle-East?”)
PERSON 6
Bobby, is it true you’re going back to the Middle-East?
(BOBBY pauses. It gets a little quieter, but no too much. The journalists stopped talking. He looks to FESTUS, FESTUS shrugs. The fans don’t stop screaming BOBBY’S name.)
BOBBY
I don’t know who you are or how you may have learned that I’ve planned a trip, (Looks at PERCY, who is equally surprised as everyone in the procession.) to Saudi Arabia, alone, but you’re correct; I am. I’ve made a promise that I have to keep.
(A whole slew of old questions and a roar of new ones pop through the airport lobby as BOBBY gets in the limo. Who, what, when, where, why and how... The roar of reporters and groupies evolves into a chant for Bobby! Bobby! Bobby!)
CUT TO: Archway to V-F-W hall.
(They smile, BARTENDER remains at bar and BOBBY enters the adjacent hall, the soldiers inside are chanting his name and cheer like there’s no tomorrow when he appears. BOBBY gets on a small stage and grabs the microphone. The soldier sitting with an autographed guitar remains seated onstage, next to BOBBY.)
BOBBY (Cont’d)
(To GUITARIST:) This one’s in G, 32 bars, rock-a-billy-ish. The melody is like the song Dreaming of a Nightmare With You -- feel free to solo on the bridge, it's only got four verses, okay?
(The GUITARIST nods.)
BOBBY (Cont’d)
Hooo-aaah! Okay guys, I sure appreciate your hospitality, but this is gonna have to be my last set. (Groans.) My wife’s waiting on me, and I think you married men know what that can mean. (Laughs and agreement.) For my final set, I want to sing some new songs that will be on our next album. On our honeymoon, my wife and I came across an old temple and I wrote some lyrics from its translation. (The GUITARIST warms up with some chords.) This song is based on a spell that’s supposed to raise your spirits, so whether you're drinking that near-beer or the real stuff, and I ain’t tellin’ if some of you accidentally pick up the wrong can... (Laughs and affirmative cheers from ALL.) get those spirits up in the air and raise them! (He toasts the crowd with his beer, the crowd cheers.) All right! Here’s to all the boys down South fighting the good fight... (Cheers!) and all us boys back here at home who are gonna raise some Cain for ‘em tonight!
(They cheer, BOBBY downs his beer, and is quickly supplied another one in can-form from a soldier at the front of the stage.)
MAN IN AUDIENCE
(Handing beer:) Hey Bobby! What’s it called?
BOBBY
It’s titled: You Gotta Get Rowdy to Rock and Roll!
(Big cheers and shouts. ALL quickly clap to the beat after a few lines.)
BOBBY (Cont’d)
One, two, a one two three Yo!
You gotta get rowdy to rock and roll,
You gotta light up the night just to thrill my soul,
Cuz there ain’t no use just lyin’ in bed,
And there ain’t no excuse for actin’ half-dead,
You gotta fill yourself with life,
Ride the edge of a razor-sharp knife,
Gotta play with the day and gotta fight with the night,
Raise up all your spirits and move them to the light,
(Early cheers here)
Cuz if there’s only one thing that can make me whole,
It’s getting real rowdy to rock and roll!
We’re gonna get rowdy and rock and roll! Yo-
(Group cheers)
We’re gonna get rowdy and rock and roll!
(Some sing along on this one close to what he’s singing.)
Oh you gotta get rowdy to rock and roll. Yo-
(BOBBY downs beer, smashes the can on his forehead, screams, howls and is handed another beer by the same guy. The must have a supply chain going. They’re nuts.)
PEDESTAL DOWN: Through floor
(Echoes of the music above reverberate through a mess of junk, war memorabilia and various storage to rest on two large, dark, only-slightly-dusty vacuum tubes resting against a wall near the stairs. Sparks begin to flare inside, revealing disjointed and shadowy silhouettes of two humanoids with large goggles over their eyes --barely discernible among the quick flashes. There are also cutaways to EXT. Sky, storm brewing.)
BOBBY (Cont’d)
Oh, you’re never too rowdy when you rock and roll,
When we aim to party hearty, gettin’ lit’s our goal,
Cuz there ain’t no use in just hangin’ around,
Plenty time for sleep when you’re sleepin’ underground,
Cuz when the lightnin’s a-flashin', you’re just a bag of bones,
And when the thunder’s a-rollin’ then you’ll hear the magic tones,
Gotta play with the day and gotta fight into the night,
Raise up all the spirits (lifts new, full can) and move them to the light,
Cuz if there’s only one thing that can make me whole,
It’s getting real rowdy to rock and roll!
We’re gonna get rowdy and rock and roll! Yo-
CROWD
WE’RE GONNA GET ROWDY AND ROCK AND ROLL!
BOBBY
Oh, ya gotta get rowdy to rock and roll...
(BOBBY nods to GUITARIST and downs his beer. GUITARIST does a wonderful, improvised solo -- the troops go wild, and encourage him to keep it going, hoots, hollers and yee-hah’s as if the guitarist never ends his solo, BOBBY never has to leave and they never have to go to war and learn what the real story is after all. The guitar solo medleys into a key change that harmonizes and blurs into a flute-like instrument that makes it sound all Middle-Eastern. The claps of the men become this thum-boom, thum-boom noise that keeps a really hip beat to this cool Middle-Eastern lute song that continues until it medleys back into the crowd roaring and guitar solo finishing; later in the scene.)
ECHO CHAMBER V.O.
CU: Bobby, groovin’ to the GUITARIST’S impromptu solo.
BARTENDER V.O.
Not many war stories, huh?
BOBBY V.O.
Nothing you’d wanna believe.
DISSOLVE TO:
(We only see the shadows of two men in a room lit by fire. Both are smoking tobacco from a hookah.)
FAISIL
You are a good friend, that’s why I am asking you to do this. I fear I shall never be able to honor my ancestors.
BOBBY
I’m just a specialist, like a private, like you are. I don’t have any say over where I go. We might not even get within twenty miles of your hometown. We’re just gonna be passing through anyway. Look, if we get to Hafir-Al-Batin, I’ll work up an excuse to get away for an hour with a hummer and visit your father. Okay?
FAISIL
If you cannot find him, show the people in the town this ring.
BOBBY
Faisil, there are as many people with your name as there are Alis and Samis. I can’t take your ring. Can’t you just mail it?
FAISIL
No! They’re sending me East, near Kuwait, and it is far too precious to trust it would be delivered from there.
BOBBY
Why do you want me to give it to your father? You’re gonna be all right. You’ll see.
FAISIL
This is my family’s crest. See these markings? It says we are but shadows of ourselves. Only with a heart to embrace and love innocence, can we ever reach Paradise.
BOBBY
It’s very beautiful. I still don’t think you want me to take it.
FAISIL
Yes I do. My grandmother and mother and sisters all predicted that I would meet a man who would carry my trust before my end. I know now what they meant.
BOBBY
We’ve had lamb together. If I could scare up a beer, I’d say we’d had a drink together. Your unit and my unit share the same headquarters building.
FAISIL
Yes, what you say is true. You have become a very good friend, Roberto Hades.
BOBBY
What I’m really trying to say is that I don’t really want the responsibility to have to take your family crest back to your father just because you think you’re about to bite it. You’re right, I am your friend man, and believe me when I say you’re gonna be okay.
FAISIL
But you are going to be within a mile of my home. You could leave it with a neighbor of my family. Our village is filled with honorable people-
BOBBY
It’s not about whether I think the ring will be stolen. It’s a gold ring. The most I could hock it for is seventy-five bucks. (Pause.) It’s not about whether it’s worth five dollars or five hundred dollars, it’s that it is priceless to you and your family. I don’t want to live with knowing I screwed you all up if something happens to the ring, or me, or if I don’t get to see your father. Do you understand, Faisil?
FAISIL
They said you would visit them. I must honor my ancestors. Please. Please. I know I can trust you.
BOBBY
It’s not a matter of trust. It’s that I don’t trust myself. Look man, I’m scared too. I’m getting sent up to one-seven infantry and we’re gonna spearhead an assault against the Republican Guard. You’re going into Kuwait. We’re both going in. It’s not that I don’t want to help you, it’s that I think you’re afraid something will happen to you when it just won’t. Nobody can predict the future, how are you so sure?
FAISIL
You may be right, Roberto Hades.
BOBBY
Sleep on it. My guard-duty shift has been over for an hour already. I’m going back to my post and I’m gonna get some sleep. You do the same and tomorrow I’m sure you’ll just laugh about this. It’s these late hours getting to you.
FAISIL
I will get some sleep, and pray.
BOBBY
Do whatever you feel is best. If you’re still all worried about the disposition of your ring in the morning, I’ll try to drop it off for you. If I miss seeing your father, I’ll mail it back to you at your headquarters, okay?
FAISIL
You will see my father.
BOBBY
Okay, whatever. Goodnight, Faisil.
(We medley back into the meaty part of the solo. BOBBY is jammin’ and steps up to the microphone to belt out his last verse, he gives a head’s up to the guitarist, the guy does a riff, people applaud his solo, then -- suddenly there is a large thunderclap and the power goes out. The acoustic guitar plays another measure and stops. Men talk, no one worried. It happens all the time in these old buildings.)
CUT TO: Motel, lights dim, go out.
CUT TO: Funeral parlor, lights dim, go out.
CUT TO: Black, VFW hall, luminous tabs from soldiers’ Kevlar helmets seen.
SOUND: Ozone-argon tubes of glass from basement, exploding.
MAN IN AUDIENCE
What happened to the lights?
BARTENDER
I’ll reset the fuse box!
BOBBY
My manager warned me about this Kansas weather. (Some laughs.) Not a tornado, is it?
(More laughs. Sound of a door opening, hurried footsteps, a flashlight lights at the side of the room.)
GUITARIST
Did I spill your beer, Bobby?
BOBBY
No, I finished it, why?
(Flashlight waves around at side of room, near fuse box.)
BARTENDER
Here we go! Got it!
(The hall lights return, everything is as it was except two ghoulish, uniformed, and very undead Nazi soldiers are onstage with BOBBY and the GUITARIST. The Nazis are green, slimy and completely hideous while being perfectly beautiful in their horrific-ness. One, dressed in an SS uniform, stands aloof for a moment near BOBBY, stunned by the light. The other, in regular Nazi uniform, is hit with the autographed guitar by the GUITARIST, smashing the guitar to pieces and doing nothing to the zombie. As the GUITARIST reacts, he slips on the sludge that has oozed from the Nazis as they have made a trail of slime from the basement door to the stage. The audience reacts and BOBBY jumps from the stage. Both Nazis jump atop the GUITARIST and quickly kill him. As they attempt to negotiate the stage, a few quick-reacting soldiers, fire toward the Nazis, slowing, but not stopping them. ALL run after seeing one vet with a gun rush to the aid of the GUITARIST, only to discover that the GUITARIST has also become undead, and instead of moving in a shambolic way, wrestles the gun from the vet and shoots him at point-blank range, killing him. The vet, after jerking about, sits up and joins the GUITARIST in pursuit. People head outside to the armory. The Nazis give chase, slightly shambolic, certainly slower than the fleeing men. Various ad libs abound; Unstack! To the armory! Run! Shoot him! etc. The vets and BOBBY all stick together as they exit, with four undead zombies following -- two rather swiftly.)
CUT TO: