Scene 7.16 - The Colony
EST: INT. Hurricane/EXT. Unremarkable Island Near The Coast Of Northern Brazil - Late Afternoon.
(We see the small pink boat being violently-tossed at sea near the eye of a wicked hurricane. Robert Turner, eat your heart out.)
MONTY
(Holding rope and reaching across rail in the wet darkness:) Old Man: Give me your hand!
(POKE, hanging from the deck's side rail, foamy sea down below, under the tsunami-wave being ridden by the craft, extends it.)
POKE
Don't let go, Grass-Bur-
MONTY
I won't! Come! To the other side of the ship!
(They make it across, as the deck floods with several washes of sea foam, falling from the crest of the wave, above.)
MONTY (Cont'd)
Rock it! Rock it!
(The craft manages to ride above the wave's crest wave just as the eye of the hurricane passes overhead. We see a panorama of calm sea and vast light across the peaceful expanse; a marbled, moving, grey wall looms at the panorama's horizon...)
POKE
(Tries to light a blunt. His matches are wet. The blunt kept dry; but the matches got wet. Figures.) We- We made it!
MONTY
(Lights him with a trusty Zippo.) We ain't outta the woods yet, Old Man. This is the eye... just a little break from the storm. We got to find some kind of dry land and secure this craft and hole-up before the other side hits us or we're gonna drown for sure. We're sinking already. She won't last through another round of that.
POKE
We're sinking?
MONTY
We've been sinking for an hour at least. We've got to find an island, a rock -- something. Gotta make repairs...
POKE
Hmmm... If my sense of direction wasn't thrown off, I figger we should be near the unremarkable island of- (sniffs) -- Land Ho!
MONTY
(Wide-eyed jerk-back jerk-forward head movement:) "Ho" is not exactly the word I'd use, Old Man...
(They are lazily-drifting by a small, unremarkable island recently-hit by a hurricane; yet its cannibis carpet remains plush and verdant. A topless, smiling native stands at the shore, waving hello. A pubescent female native.)
POKE
(Sniffs.) Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore...
MONTY
What's Kansas? There's a hot little spice-rack off our starboard, I think she wants us to anchor and go ashore.
POKE
A woman, you say? Let's go ashore, by all means!
(They drop anchor in shallow water and make way to shore.)
MONTY
Hello! Hi! I'm Monty, this here's the Old Man, and you're a- you're - you're wanting us to follow you, okay, but I really should tell you I can't go for long, my boat's sinking as we speak and the other side of that storm is gonna hit in about anudder hour, so-
(She whistles to get his attention. She appears a bit cross. She repeats her "come along" gesture and leads the men inward.)
POKE
Mmmm! A very fine strain! So unusual! So potent! Like a - Candycane! I must collect some samples for my greenhouse-
MONTY
You don't have a greenhouse, Old Man...
POKE
Not yet.
(She leads them to a small shack and beckons them to go inside. MONTY enters; the girl stops POKE, nodding "no" but the poor guy can't see it so he again tries to enter the shack, and she becomes more adamant, thus creating business...)
CUT TO:
INT. SHACK LIT WITH SINGLE LIGHT BULB WITH ACCOMPANYING LAMPSHADE OVER SMOKY TABLE
(A voice speaks out of the darkness, emitting smoke. Raspy, much like the gloved hands holding a wet, burning Havana Spleef.)
SHYLOCK
Come in, sit down. I am Shylock, Chieftan of this isle. You have come from the storm; wrecked your boat on our shores, yes?
MONTY
Yes! It's beaching upon your shore as we speak.
SHYLOCK
This island houses a leper colony; do you know that?
MONTY
Ah- no, I was clueless, but now that you bring it up, I was kinda wonderin' why you were all wrapped like that in bandages and all; it's muggy outside...
SHYLOCK
There are many of us on this island who prefer the illusion of solitude that darkness provides; we will repair your boat tonight, after the storm passes. You will be safe; stay with us tonight. You can wait out the storm with me and Chongi, the native girl.
MONTY
Yeah, whazzup wit' dat? Gals from her tribe seemta show a whole-lotta skin; an' she looks fine ta me. You sure she's sposta be here?
SHYLOCK
She's mute; her tribe believes her inability to speak is due to a demon possessing her spirit. She was banished to this isle.
MONTY
That's horrible!
SHYLOCK
Worse. I like her enough, but she's bound to get what we got if'n she stays here much longer. She doesn't belong here, but no one will take her off our hands. Nobody comes here except by accident or unless the boat's dropping-off a fresh load of more rotting mouths to feed. She stays with me; the others can't stand the sight of her; she only reminds them of the way they used to be. Think you could take her with?
MONTY
Sure! We'll take her off your hands, Shylock. One good turn deserves another. We could use a third person to man the sails. And you and all your leper friends are going to fix my boat free of charge; that's so groovy. So, Shylock? Why you so nice to us?
SHYLOCK
We're a colony of souls: We, who are in dire need of even one act of mercy from God, choose to be kind to our fellow men despite the cruel fate we are unduly cast by them. Perhaps you could remember that and pay-it-forward when you leave us.
MONTY
Pay-it-forward -- Hmmm, I'll keep that in mind. And speaking of mind, like mind-expansion and all -- all while I was coming-all up on this rock -- and I ain't Nostril-damus or nothing but I certainly shore can't ignore its sweet aroma now that my sinuses have been given a salt-water enema...
SHYLOCK
Oh! Oh! You speak of the local strain; Cannibis Unobtainibis -- Yes, it's a prize, indeed; our silent reward for being left on this lonely rock. There's plenty to share! More than enough for you to take with you; we couldn't possibly smoke all that grows here naturally -- (Pause. Chomp, hit.) I, however, prefer to have my favorite strain imported by the Bling-Bling Shipping Company; I mean, a Havana strain is just as good as a local strain; is not all bud the same, essentially? Are not all men truly equal; inside?
(SHYLOCK leans in and offers his fat blunt. The end is all chomped and slobbered-on and wet from heavy toking. We see SHYLOCK'S face in the smoky, harsh light - horrid, scabby, peely, rotten and crusty. MONTY takes the blunt. SHYLOCK leans back into the darkness.)
CU: MONTY
(MONTY regards the blunt for a second, looks to the leper across the table, puts the blunt in his mouth and tokes. Takes a second toke, pulls it out briefly, nodding, looks to the blunt and chomps on it, giving it another three hearty tokes, practically Frenching-it.)
SHYLOCK
Hashahaa-cug-hahahaha-cug-cug-whees-ack-hahaha! You are a clever man indeed! You almost tricked me! You look at me with such insanity and bravado; you almost had me fooled! How did you know- how did you know that at this stage, my leprosy is not contagious?
MONTY
(Talk about a justified bogart... Chomp. Deeply tokes. A la McQueen:) I didn't.
ZOOM OUT, PEDESTAL UP
(They both begin to chuckle, then laugh. It digresses into insane, mad, howling laughter as we zoom out, through the shack wall to see POKE still trying to get the upper-hand with the island girl, who is doing a good job of keeping him out of the shack. We zoom-out from the island to see the immense hurricane, then to a global view, then to space itself. The laughter gets an echo-chamber effect toward the end.)
FTB