CHOSEN

Adam Lovingood

FADE IN:

INT. OF BILL'S BEDROOM DAY

Opens in a bedroom with the camera looking down on BILL (man in his late 20s or early 30s) in bed alone. He is awake and staring at the ceiling. He turns to look at the clock, sighs, and then slowly gets out of bed. He opens the curtains on the bedroom windows before walking into the bathroom. We see a side view - from the waist down - of his urinating into the toilet. He flushes, turns to the bathroom sink, looks in the mirror above it, and then proceeds to wet his face with water. He lathers up his face. Holding his razor in his right hand, he lifts the razor to his face to begin shaving but stops cold. With a horrified look on his face, he stares at his right hand.

BILL

What the fuck?

BILL throws his razor into the sink and backs away staring down at his deformed right hand.

BILL

What the fuck?

BILL glances up at his face in the mirror. He starts to panic.

He grabs a cloth from the shower rod and wraps it around his finger, even though there is no sign of blood. He runs back into the bedroom and paces quickly around the perimeter of his bed as if looking for the missing portion of his index finger.

BILL

My God! They don't just fall off. They don't molt.

After a few more seconds of looking around, BILL picks up the bedside phone's receiver. He dials a number awkwardly with his left hand. The screen splits to show PAUL picking up his receiver on the other end of the line.

PAUL

Hello?

BILL

Paul, thank God, you haven't left yet. Look, this is going to sound really crazy, but you were the only person I was with last night and I seem to have lost something.

PAUL

Oh no! You didn't lose your wallet did you. I lost my wallet last year and

(trailing off)

BILL

No! No. I didn't lose my wallet. That would be okay at this point. Listen, …Uh…this is going to sound really weird but ….I…..the end of my finger is gone.

Both are silent for a few seconds.

PAUL

You mean, another one?

BILL

What! No! Not another…..what do you mean another one?

PAUL

Well, I know the end of your right index finger is gone. You told me the story about that the first time we went out drinking. Do you mean you cut yourself again?

BILL

(sighing heavily)

Paul, this is Bill. Bill. I've never cut off any parts or portions of my body. I don't know how this happened and I'm freaking out right now.

PAUL

Whoa! Wait a minute. I know who you are. Don't you……You don't remember about your finger? The paper cutter when you were a kid? It's why you don't like using them now? Are you putting me on, man, you really don't remember?

BILL slowly lowers himself onto the edge of the bed.

BILL

I…I don't….No.

BILL suddenly appears calm.

BILL

I woke up late this morning and went to shave and it was gone. Paul, it's never been gone before. I don't know what else to say. There was no paper cutter. I don't have any fear of paper cutters.

PAUL

Look, dude, maybe you just had a really bad dream, okay? You sound pretty shaken up. Call into work sick, but don't tell them why. I'll stop by on my way to work. Okay? I'll be by in about forty-five minutes. And don't call anyone else. Okay?

BILL

Sure. Okay. But please hurry.

EXT. TRASH STREWN ALLEY DAY

Several months later

Man in his fifties is lying against a brick wall. Another man sits against the opposite wall a few feet away from the first man. The man lying down has a long beard. Both men and their clothes look dirty. The man lying down wakes with a start and appears dazed.

MAN

(softly)

Who am I?

MAN looks down at his hands and we see the top portion of his right index finger is missing.

MOSH

Oh, shit. Here we go again. I don't know. Who the fuck you wanna be?

MAN

I want to be who I am.

MOSH

That sounds way too fucking deep for me, but I guess you's Alb. That's who you always been to me.

MAN

No. No. I'm Bill.

MOSH

What the fuck ever. Okay then you're Bill. And I'm Rupert Murdoch. G'day, Mate.

(Said in a bad Australian accent.)

This happens every time you buy that shit from Squeaker. I've told you to leave his shit alone. And you never listen to me and you always end up like this and you ain't you'self for days.

MAN

(Looking down at this clothes)

There's no question I ain't....I'm not myself.

(Pauses becoming more agitated)

What is this? I've never been this dirty.

(Agitation escalates as he starts pulling at his clothes)

What am I doing here?

(His eyes brim with tears)

Where is my apartment? Where is Paul? I should get to work. I don't want to be fired.

(MAN scurries around as if trying to find items to gather up as if preparing to leave for work)

They'll wonder where I've been, where I've gotten to.

MOSH

Now, don't get yourself in such state. I've been asking myself those questions for years now, but they ain't no answers. They ain't no sense in asking 'em. What good does it do? Now why don't you just calm you'self down. You know they ain't no job and I don't know who the hell Paul is. And they can't fire you from a job you ain't got. Just sit down while I go find us some breakfast. Okay?

MAN doesn't answer but sits down silently. After a few seconds before MOSH gets to the head of the alley, MAN looks up intently.

MAN

Wait. What's your name?

MOSH

(Sighing heavily)

You know if I didn't ......

(he looks back at Bill sadly)

Mosh. Mosh is my name. Pleased to make your acquaintance.

(MOSH turns and walks out of the alley)

MAN leans back against the brick wall for a second or two but then a look of panic spreads across his face again and he starts pulling at his clothes. As he's pulling he appears to notice something in the breast pocket of his jacket. He seizes upon it feeling its form before he reaches in and takes out the item. It is a small pistol. He stares at it visibly shaking.

MAN

Maybe...maybe this is the answer.

(He starts to cry and looks heavenward)

That's what you're telling me. This is the answer. I won't change anymore. Thank you. Thank you, God. Thank you so much. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

(He says sobbing)

Pulling himself together he slowly stands, wipes his eyes and stares again at the pistol in his hand. A couple of seconds pass before he closes his eyes shut tightly and very slowly lifts the pistol to his temple. Trembling he pulls the trigger only to hear a click. A second passes before he opens his eyes. Closing his eyes again he quickly pulls the trigger again only to hear a click.

MAN

Why are you doing this? Why? Why are you laughing at me? Why?

He throws the gun up in the air and it arcs and hits the concrete in the back of the alley. As it hits the ground, it fires a shot. MAN stares at where the gun landed with a look of surprise. He runs to the pistol and picks it up. Pointing it at his head he tries firing again, several times, to no avail.

MOSH returns with a paper bag in his hand which he drops when he sees MAN with pistol in hand.

MOSH

What the fuck are you doing? Put that down, man. Put that down.

MOSH runs over and grabs the pistol out of MAN's weak grasp.

MOSH

What the hell do you think you're doing? Huh. What the hell?

MAN

It doesn't matter. I can't die. It doesn't want me to. It's not time yet. The experiment isn't over.

MOSH

What foolishness are you talking? Experiment. Look, why don't you go over to the shelter for a few days. Maybe they can ...help you. I don't know ...experiment.

MAN stands up suddenly and pushes past MOSH and runs out of the alley into the street. He stands directly in front of a bus waving his arms in the air. The bus stops within inches of his chest. MOSH runs up behind him and pulls him out of the street onto the sidewalk.

BILL

(to no one in particular)

I've been chosen.

MOSH

Chosen, fuck! You think you fucking Jesus or Buddha or something. Now, you gotta stop this crazy shit. You know they'll lock you up in a second. Is that what you want? To be locked up. You keep pulling crazy shit like that and I'm gonna tell 'em to lock you up. You a threat to you'self and maybe to others toting guns and shit like that.

MAN says nothing and collapses into MOSH. MOSH helps MAN back into the alley as several onlookers cast disapproving looks.

MOSH

(voice begins to sound dream like, somewhat echoing)

Come on back here and lie down for awhile until you you'self again. Alright. You'll be you'self in no time. No time at all.

FADE OUT:

THE END