Original Script
Mar 1, 2016 9:22:59 GMT
Post by joannem on Mar 1, 2016 9:22:59 GMT
This is the original script. NOT the working version. Please refer to the Joanne Edit thread for the current version we're working on.
VOID GAZING
By Ewen Campion-Clarke
Synopsis: If you look into the abyss, eventually the abyss will look into you. But some people are far too self-obsessed to bother to look into the abyss, nowadays. Three flat-mates – Andrew, Nigel and Dave – have their own issues to fuss over, and thus miss the signs of something dreadful happening, even as people start to disappear from their neighborhood and statues of them start to replace them. By the time they realize they’re being terrorized by a Gorgon, they’re trapped under siege in their own apartment. Can they risk looking at the big picture without being turned to stone in the process?
SCENE 1: INT. APARTMENT. NIGHT
THE GORGON IS PROWLING OUTSIDE THE APARTMENT.
SFX: a strange, inhuman howling that goes on for a while.
ANDREW: (BEAT) Quiet, isn’t it?
NIGEL: Shhh! I think it knows we’re in here...
DAVE: Of course it knows we’re in here, Nige. Out of all the houses in the street, it’s circling this one. Doesn’t that suggest something?
NIGEL: It has excellent taste in real estate?
DAVE: Real estate...? It’s a bloody Gorgon, Nigel, not a yuppie!
NIGEL: I thought it was a Medusa?
DAVE: It’s a Gorgon. Medusa was just the most famous Gorgon.
ANDREW: You know, “medusa” is an anagram of “amused”?
BEAT.
NIGEL: No I didn’t. I also don’t know how the hell that information can possibly be of use to us when we’re trapped hiding in our house as a snake-haired, dragon-winged, toga-wearing freak prowls suburbia looking for losers to turn into pieces of ceramic garden furniture!
ANDREW: Jeez. Excuse me for trying to look on the bright side.
NIGEL: The only possible light side is if that thing out there turns you to stone before the rest of us so we might get a few seconds of relief.
ANDREW: I sense hostility, Nigel.
NIGEL: I admire your perceptiveness, Andrew. Now shut up!
SFX: another long howl.
DAVE: I think it’s getting closer.
ANDREW: You know, it can probably smell us.
NIGEL: What are you implying, Andrew?
ANDREW: Nothing.
NIGEL: Don’t give me that. You’re insinuating something.
DAVE: Yes. That that thing outside can smell us.
NIGEL: Ridiculous. We’re in the middle of suburbia – if it’s picked up our scent or anything, it should have picked up the same scent from every other house. Why isn’t it picking just this house?
DAVE: Because everyone else was smart enough to evacuate.
NIGEL: Ah. Good point. Well made.
ANDREW: So our scent is stronger than all the others.
NIGEL: You’re doing it again.
ANDREW: Doing what?
NIGEL: You’re inferring there’s something up with my hygiene aren’t you?
ANDREW: No.
DAVE: No, he’s not.
NIGEL: Oh.
DAVE: He might be implying that, but you’d have to be the one to infer it.
NIGEL: Thanks, Dave. We’re trapped inside an apartment with a merciless creature from the blackest pits of damnation scratching at the front door, but at least my grammar has been corrected.
SFX: another monster howl.
ANDREW: Quite right. Dying’s one thing, but to die splitting an infinitive... that would terribly bad be.
DAVE: Is that actually a split infinitive?
ANDREW: I hope so, otherwise the joke doesn’t work.
NIGEL: (SIGH) You really think it can sniff us out?
ANDREW: Probably. So don’t go near the windows.
NIGEL: It can sniff through glass?
DAVE: Why not? Alligators can.
ANDREW: They can not!
DAVE: Can’t they? I must be thinking of crocodiles.
ANDREW: Give me a crocodile over that any day.
NIGEL: What a stupid thing to ask for.
ANDREW: At least we could stop a crocodile.
NIGEL: Yes, we could feed you to it while the rest ran away.
ANDREW: All we’d have to do is put a rubber band around its snout.
DAVE: All we’d have to do?
ANDREW: Yeah. Crocodile jaws aren’t very strong. Snapping shut? Yeah, lethal. But opening wide? That’s a lot harder. One decent rubber band, and it’d never break free.
NIGEL: It could still charge us down, claw us to pieces and beat us to death with its massive tail.
DAVE: All right, so the crocodile swap may not be perfect...
NIGEL: Not perfect? As ideas go, it’s deranged, Dave. Criminally insane. The only thing more mental than wishing for a crocodile to wrestle is us being trapped here with a monster from Roman mythology...
DAVE: Greek.
NIGEL: Greek. Roman. Whatever. I’d find those details a lot more endearing if it wasn’t trying to break into my home and kill us! We don’t even know where it is right now...
SFX: another howl.
NIGEL: ...except that is disturbingly close.
DAVE: It sounds like it’s got into the backyard.
NIGEL: You sure?
DAVE: Of course I’m not sure! I’m working entirely on sound!
NIGEL: That’s not much help...
DAVE: Nigel, if you want to take off your blind-fold, go ahead.
ANDREW: Of course we could just flip it over.
NIGEL: “Flip it over?”
ANDREW: Yes. All the blood will rush out of its head and it’ll pass out. That’s what they do at rodeos and things like that. I’m sure...
DAVE: Andrew.
ANDREW: Yes?
NIGEL: What in the name of the un-nameable are you talking about?
ANDREW: Sorry. I thought we still were working out how to defeat a crocodile.
NIGEL: No, Andrew, the conversation moved back to the original starting point of us hiding in the living room as that thing out three circles around us like a shark in the Bermuda Triangle.
DAVE: How can you circle in a triangle?
NIGEL: Are you deliberately trying to annoy me?
DAVE: Well, it just sort of comes naturally.
NIGEL: Oh shut up.
SFX: another howl, much closer.
NIGEL: (SHOUTS) You too, goldilocks!
DAVE: If that thing gets in here, we’re finished.
ANDREW: Yep.
NIGEL: You don’t sound bothered.
ANDREW: Would it help if I did?
NIGEL: It might. This is all your fault anyway.
ANDREW: My fault? How is this my fault?
NIGEL: You don’t know?
ANDREW: No.
NIGEL: Well. (BEAT) Don’t expect me to enlighten you then!
ANDREW: Fine.
NIGEL: Fine!
ANDREW: Fine!
DAVE: We’re going to die here, aren’t we?
NIGEL: Unless you’re immortal and never told us? Very probably.
DAVE: Twenty-two years and this is how it ends.
ANDREW: Not with a bang but a whimper.
NIGEL: More a sort of scraping stone-on-stone sound.
ANDREW: Yeah. But not a “bang”.
NIGEL: No. I grant you. Not with a “bang”. Still there are worse ways to die.
DAVE: How do you know?
ANDREW: He’s got a point there. You haven’t actually died before, have you? And you certainly haven’t been turned to solid stone by some kind of unknown fossilization process by a creature from ancient mythology.
NIGEL: Well, have you?
ANDREW: No.
NIGEL: So you can’t know I’m wrong, then, can you?
DAVE: We can know you don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.
ANDREW: Something we know from many years experience.
NIGEL: Is this how we all want to end our lives? Insulting Nigel?
ANDREW: “Die doing what you love,” that’s my motto.
DAVE: I’d rather not die at all.
NIGEL: Well, it wasn’t exactly on my top ten goals for the day either! But we’ve got to admit – this is one hell of an interesting way to go. Not in a car crash or an old people’s home or breathlessly in the bed of a super model... which, now I come to think of it, would be a better choice... but my point is, how many people can say they were killed by Medusa turning them to stone?
ANDREW: Last count? Fifty-three.
NIGEL: Mmm. I suppose the novelty is wearing off.
DAVE: Fifty-three people that thing’s killed.
ANDREW: We don’t know they’re dead.
DAVE: You think turning to stone is something you get over?
ANDREW: They used to say the same thing about pneumonia.
NIGEL: Yeah, but no one’s going to discover an antibiotic that turns statues back into real people, are they? And wouldn’t you die from starvation or something? Brain damage from being without oxygen?
ANDREW: Not necessarily. If everything is turned into stone at once, and everything gets turned back at once, why wouldn’t it be all right? Your brain wouldn’t need oxygen because it was stone, and your veins would have been stone as well... totally petrified.
NIGEL: I remember when petrified used to mean “really scared”.
ANDREW: You’re really scared now, aren’t you?
NIGEL: (CASUAL) Might be.
ANDREW: Well, then it’s a rehearsal for when you really are petrified.
DAVE: You think it’ll hurt?
ANDREW: No idea. Mind you, if your nerves are turning to stone, they’re not going to be transmitting any pain, are they? You never know, it might actually be a very relaxing way to go...
NIGEL: Big consolation.
DAVE: Why can’t we just make a break for it?
NIGEL: Why can’t we just make a break for it? Oh, David, let me count the ways... for a start, we are blindfolded in the middle of a barricaded apartment. If we take off our blindfolds, snakehead out there will turn us to stone. If we don’t, all the stumbling around will leave us easy prey for it to pull off our blindfolds and turn us to stone at its leisure. And there’s also the barricades and quarantines around the whole suburb which we would have to get past, always assuming we don’t get used for target practice by the military police who think we’re either evil slaves of Medusa or just put us out of our misery as an act of kindness.
DAVE: So you’re saying... we can’t just make a break for it.
ANDREW: I think that’s what he’s saying. Is that what you’re saying, Nige?
SFX: another howl.
DAVE: Maybe we better keep the noise down from now on.
NIGEL: As I have been trying to tell you two for the last ten minutes!
ANDREW: Have you? Sorry. I wasn’t listening.
NIGEL: If you’d listened to me at the start, we wouldn’t be in this mess!
ANDREW: Excuse me, Mr. “Oh-I’m-sure-it-just-another-publicity-stunt-Gorgons-don’t-exist-in-the-real-world-this-has-candid-camera-written-all-over-it”! Mr. “Nobody-tells-me-when-to-evacuate-my-rented-accommodation-apocalypse-or-no-apocalypse”! You insisted that everything was fine until they cut the power off, didn’t you?
NIGEL: Yeah. So I was wrong. What are you? Perfect?
ANDREW: In comparison, it’d be hard not to be!
NIGEL: Egomaniac.
ANDREW: Moron.
DAVE: Oh shut up, the pair of you. None of us saw it coming. (BEAT) OK, well, maybe we did. I mean, the signs were all there for us to see.
NIGEL: Do you have to keep mentioning sight?
DAVE: What?
ANDREW: Nigel’s right. We’re all blindfolded. We’re down to four senses a piece and you’re just reminding us of what we’ve lost.
DAVE: Oh. I see what you mean.
ANDREW: There! You’re doing it again!
DAVE: Come on, Andrew, look at it from my point of view...
NIGEL: And again! This is ridiculous!
DAVE: OK! OK. No more ocular references! What I’m saying is that we could have... er... been aware of this emergency a lot sooner than we ultimately were, that’s all.
NIGEL: I agree. Andrew, it’s all your fault.
ANDREW: All right, Nigel. Explain that logic. If you can.
NIGEL: I so can.
ANDREW: Go on then.
NIGEL: I will.
DAVE: Good. No one’s stopping you.
NIGEL: No one can stop me.
ANDREW: No one’s trying to!
SFX: another roar.
ANDREW: Apart from, you know. Her. Go on then.
NIGEL: Well, Andrew, you can’t deny...
ANDREW: Can’t? Don’t tell me what I can and can’t deny!
DAVE: Do we have to go through this every time?
ANDREW: What do you mean, “every” time?
NIGEL: You never take responsibility for your actions.
ANDREW: At least I have actions to take responsibility for!
NIGEL: Yes, like getting drunk and challenging those door-to-door bible bashers to a theological debate? That was lots of fun, wasn’t it? And then they came round every Sunday for a year demanding a rematch! All your fault.
ANDREW: I did what I had to.
DAVE: You hid in your room and pretended to move to Canada.
ANDREW: Which, curiously enough, happens to be incredibly similar to the plan YOU have come up with to deal with being chased by a Gorgon!
DAVE: This is not remotely the same! It’s like chalk and cheese.
ANDREW: That’s what I mean. Exactly the same.
DAVE: Chalk and cheese are not the same, Andrew. That’s the whole point of mentioning them. They’re completely different.
ANDREW: Apart from the fact they both start with “ch”.
DAVE: All right. Apart from that.
NIGEL: And they’re both one syllable.
DAVE: All right, yes, they are similar in that regard...
ANDREW: And they’re both made from calcium.
DAVE: Look, the point is that they are, despite certain similarities very different in all important respects.
NIGEL: And they’re both white.
ANDREW: No, cheese is yellow.
NIGEL: I’ve seen yellow chalk.
DAVE: I’ve seen pink chalk. Anyone seen pink cheese?
ANDREW: Cheese when it has beetroot stains on it?
DAVE: Look, can we get away from chalk and cheese?
NIGEL: You’re the one that brought it up! You’re also the one who said we should hide behind the couch, blindfold ourselves and wait for rescue that, in all probability, is never coming.
DAVE: And you’re the ones who agreed it was a good idea.
ANDREW: Ooh, he’s got us there.
NIGEL: But since that thing outside is not going away and also the odds are this neighborhood will be destroyed by a tactical nuclear strike, I think we can all agree that it is time for another plan. Right?
DAVE: Right.
NIGEL: Right.
ANDREW: Right. Why is all this my fault, again?
NIGEL: It’s because of you we were down by the river bank in the first place. You know, the place where we first found the first statue?
ANDREW: I don’t see why that’s wrong. If anything, it made sure we were all warned ahead of time about the danger. If, you know, any of us had actually understood there was any danger to be warned about. It’s not like I knew there was a Gorgon in the area. I just wanted to do a riverside painting and you, Nigel, agreed to carry all the stuff for a modest fee.
NIGEL: You still owe me cold hard cash, remember?
ANDREW: Oh, and what are you going to spend currency of that temperature and consistency on, Nigel? Maybe Medusa out there will let you buy a candy bar from the local service station before Gorgonizing you there and then.
NIGEL: ...what did you say?
DAVE: Did you say “Gorgonize”?
ANDREW: Yes I did. That is the technical term for being turned into stone.
DAVE: You’re kidding. Seriously? Gorgonize?
ANDREW: It is.
NIGEL: “Gorgonize?”
ANDREW: It is in the dictionary.
NIGEL: You’re making this up.
ANDREW: I am not! Gorgonize, to have the effect of a Gorgon upon, to turn to stone, to petrify. It’s a verb, a doing word!
NIGEL: ...what a stupid way to describe it. I mean, to get turned into a statue would be bad enough, but to know the technical term sounded like someone sneezing on a keyboard... that’s truly terrifying.
DAVE: Maybe that was what that first victim we saw was so scared of? His dying scream was begging for something less-embarrassing-sounding to kill him.
NIGEL: (FIRM) Dave, that dude is dead. A bit of respect.
DAVE: Respect? You made plenty of jokes about that statue.
NIGEL: That was before I knew what it was. Besides, neither of you would even have noticed the statue was down there if I hadn’t cunningly suggested it as a subject for Andrew to paint.
ANDREW: It was still a stupid suggestion. Who would want to look at a painting of a statue – they’d rather have the statue itself. Statues are free to look at, and if the painting is better than the original sculpture, it begs the question of why the hell the painting needed to be based on a rubbish subject in the first place!
NIGEL: You should still have paid more attention. A statue of someone flinging their arms up in front of them, looking terrified... why didn’t you think more of it?
ANDREW: I did. It just didn’t help with Dave making stupid remarks.
DAVE: What stupid remarks?
ANDREW: What about when I idly asked where the statue had come from?
DAVE: Oh yeah.
NIGEL: (MOCKING DAVE) “Well, Andrew, when a sculpture and a block of stone love each other very much...”
DAVE: That was funny.
ANDREW: No it wasn’t.
DAVE: Besides, I was the one who noticed it was weird for someone to have a statue made of them when they were cowering in terror. You were the ones that thought it was just the “characteristic pose” of someone who was really shy.
ANDREW: Well, I still think I saw that guy on the news coming out of a courtroom once in that exact pose.
DAVE: I was also the one who pointed out that it was a stupid place to erect a statue, in the bushes beside the walking trail where hardly anyone would see it. You both just assumed he was some famous but forgotten landowner, immortalized forever.
ANDREW: Well, we were half right. And you also suggested, if I recall correctly, that “sculpture’s so damn difficult. I mean, one mistake and you need a whole new block of marble. Makes sense that you’d make it so you didn’t need to get the face right and cover their face with their hands”.
DAVE: That was a valid artistic point.
NIGEL: Just because you’re rubbish at faces...
ANDREW: We should all have been more suspicious. Someone carved a statue of someone cowering in terror, then dumped it by the river where no one would see it without any plaque or stone plinth... it was totally freestanding. Not even the civil planning department would have been that stupid.
NIGEL: It could have been dumped there.
SFX: another roar.
NIGEL: I mean, of course, it wasn’t, but that was still a viable explanation. At the time. Someone had just carved a brilliantly detailed statue, then decided to dump it in public, and does so without leaving any tracks or anything. After all, it’s a free country.
DAVE: No. It isn’t.
NIGEL: OK. We just pretend it’s a free country.
ANDREW: We could have passed off one statue as a coincidence. But there were more than one weren’t they? That picnic area up the hill. A whole family turned to statues. A horrible thought.
NIGEL: Horrible? You weren’t there. We were!
ANDREW: Yes. I was painting – where had you two gone?
DAVE: Nigel came up with the brilliant idea of carrying that statue up the hill to Doris’ milk bar. He had this insane idea she’d accept it in lieu of payment and give us all a free lunch.
NIGEL: It could have worked. I was sure we could have got a few beef burgers in return for that family pack of statues.
ANDREW: Why would Doris have wanted statues for a milk bar?
NIGEL: To lighten up the place, of course! Statues like this would break the ice, start conversations, be useful as novelty hat-stands... it would have given a nice European style to the bar, if you ask me. Just need some arches of white marble, some Mediterranean floor tiling...
ANDREW: And you didn’t think it was odd about a statues filling up a picnic area? With proper, genuine food laid out on the picnic table?
NIGEL: Not at all. Just the sort of stupid idea that typifies corporate art.
ANDREW: Meow.
DAVE: I didn’t like it.
NIGEL: You don’t like anything, Dave. It’s always been your problem.
DAVE: At least I wasn’t the one insisting at the top of my voice the idea of picnickers turning to stone was, and I quote, “ridiculous”.
NIGEL: And that foresight has REALLY helped us, hasn’t it? You hear that, Dave? Do you hear that? That is the sound of no one agreeing with you, Dave.
ANDREW: Did you get a free lunch off Doris?
DAVE: Nope. Took one look at the statue, screamed, and ran away.
NIGEL: Which, in hindsight, makes a fair bit of sense. I bet it was her that alerted the authorities and got that whole evacuation happening.
DAVE: The same evacuation we ignored.
ANDREW: (SIGHS) Yep.
SINISTER SILENCE.
DAVE: We’re dead. We’re all going to end up like Lot’s Wife.
NIGEL: She got turned to salt, not rock.
DAVE: Rock salt, then! Who cares? Nothing can stop that thing!
ANDREW: There must be something. What do we know about Gorgons?
DAVE: They turn to you stone.
ANDREW: Anything else?
DAVE: Isn’t that enough?
NIGEL: Come on. Know your enemy. Gorgons are Greek, right?
ANDREW: Guess so. They have snakes of hair and they are so ugly anyone who sees their face turns to stone.
DAVE: I thought they fired lasers from their eyes.
NIGEL: I thought they had this creepy tail that stung you.
ANDREW: That was in The Adventures of Hercules! You’re not taking that seriously, are you?
NIGEL: Why not?
ANDREW: Because amongst other things, Julius Caesar did not live next door to Jason and the Argonauts!
NIGEL: Enough of this. What else do we know?
DAVE: There’s more than one. Three sisters, right?
NIGEL: No, that’s McBeth.
ANDREW: And Medusa is one of the Gorgons and she got killed by Perseus.
DAVE: That’s good. That means they can be killed.
ANDREW: Unless Medusa was just the only mortal Gorgon.
NIGEL: That isn’t good news. So we have one of the immortal sisters?
ANDREW: Yeah. Quite possibly.
DAVE: That is definitely not good news.
SFX: another roar.
DAVE: What else do we know about them?
ANDREW: Not a lot. I think they have sharp teeth. And they have very scaly skin. And wings. I’m sure that thing out there has wings.
NIGEL: Yeah. Man, I wish I’d taken Greek classes in primary school.
DAVE: You chose Macedonian because you fancied the teacher.
NIGEL: Admit it, Dave. She was hot.
DAVE: (BEAT) Yeah. She was.
ANDREW: This isn’t helping.
NIGEL: Right. Perseus killed the Gorgon, right?
ANDREW: One of them. The very mortal one.
NIGEL: How?
DAVE: Cut her head off, didn’t he?
ANDREW: Yeah. And then he used it to turn people he didn’t like to stone, if I remember rightly.
NIGEL: I thought that was King Midas.
DAVE: No, he turned things to gold.
NIGEL: Gold’s a stone.
ANDREW: No it isn’t!
NIGEL: It is.
DAVE: It is not!
NIGEL: You have dig it out of the rock, so it’s a rock.
DAVE: It’s a metal, you walking advert for compulsive sterilization!
NIGEL: Your controversial insults have no effect on me, Dave. Anyway, we cut off this Gorgon’s head... bound to be some blood. Do they have acid blood?
DAVE: How should I know?
ANDREW: I think their blood is supposed to be healing or something. Or does every drop turn into another snake? I can’t remember. Why the hell am I the one who is expected to know all the fiddly details of Greek mythology?
NIGEL: Because you’ve got to be good for something, Andrew! It might as well be this! What else do we know about them?
ANDREW: I think she might have a bow and arrow, but I could be wrong.
DAVE: I heard somewhere they’re like werewolves and they’re just ordinary women who mutate into Gorgons on full moons.
NIGEL: ...yeah. That sounds totally credible. You sure you didn’t watch a werewolf movie and just got confused? What a stupid concept! As if lunar cycles could have any affect on a woman.
DAVE: Nigel...
ANDREW: No, Dave. Let him die ignorant.
SFX: the Gorgon starts smash the front door down.
ANDREW: Sooner rather than later.
NIGEL: What is it? What’s happening?
DAVE: I think Medusa’s worked out where the front door is!
SFX: more smashes and a roar much louder.
DAVE: No, don’t take your blindfold off, you idiot!
NIGEL: How are we supposed to run for our lives if we can’t see?
SFX: roars and rattlesnake noises
NIGEL: It’s in here with us!
DAVE: We know that, you moron!
ANDREW: Into the bathroom!
DAVE: Don’t tell her that!
NIGEL: She doesn’t speak English, does she?
DAVE: Just run!
NIGEL TRIPS OVER AN ARMCHAIR.
NIGEL: Ah! My ankle! Who put that chair there?
ANDREW: I don’t know – which chair do you mean?
SFX: rattlesnake noises get louder and louder
DAVE: Uh... guys... I think she’s decided to pick on me.
NIGEL: Are you sure?
ANDREW: Move!
NIGEL: Where?
ANDREW: Follow my voice, you idiot...
ANDREW FALLS OVER ANOTHER PIECE OF FURNITURE.
ANDREW: Who put that there?
DAVE: Oh my god, it’s got my hand!
NIGEL: That’s me.
DAVE: So why are your nails so long?
NIGEL: (BEAT) Oh dear.
SFX: shockingly loud roar.
ANDREW ROARS BACK.
BEAT.
ANDREW: I did NOT expect that to work. Run! Into the bathroom! Come on!
NIGEL: It’s got me by the blindfold!
ANDREW: Take it off then!
NIGEL: But...
DAVE: For crying out loud, Nigel! Just keep your eyes closed! God, I can almost hear the brain cells dying! Come on!
SFX: another roar.
DAVE: In! In! In!
THEY RUN INTO THE BATHROOM AND SLAM THE DOOR AFTER THEM AS THE GORGON CONTINUES TO BELLOW.
SCENE 2: INT. BATHROOM. NIGHT
THE GORGON CAN BE HEARD ROARING OUTSIDE. THE OTHERS RECOVER THEIR BREATH.
DAVE: Everyone in?
NIGEL: Hope so.
ANDREW: Are we safe?
DAVE: (GASPING FOR BREATH) I.... I think...
ANDREW: I said, “are we safe???”
NIGEL: Yes!!
ANDREW: Oh good. I can take this stupid blindfold off... There.
DAVE: Not much difference. It’s pitch dark in here.
NIGEL: No power for the lights, no bathroom window.
ANDREW: Which is good because it means it can’t attack us through it.
DAVE: And which simultaneously bad because it means we’re trapped.
NIGEL: Always focus on the negative, don’t you?
DAVE: Because the positive can’t be seen without an electron microscope, usually. We’re trapped in the toilet with one very thin wooden door between us and an unstoppable gorgonizing death machine. The positive?
ANDREW: We’re not dead yet.
DAVE: I can’t help noticing the word “yet” is a major part of that statement.
ANDREW: (TIRED) Not now, Dave.
NIGEL: We need to brainstorm. Where’s a focus group when you need it?
DAVE: Hiding in emergency accommodation while the defense services work out how to destroy a Gorgon in the middle of the residential area.
NIGEL: That was a rhetorical question, David.
DAVE: Don’t worry, that was a rhetorical answer, Nigella.
NIGEL: Good. So, it’s clear that there’s only one thing to do.
ANDREW: If there’s only one thing to do, why the hell has it taken you this long to work it out?
NIGEL: Because you two keep asking stupid questions and going off on meaningless tangents.
ANDREW: Hey, you wanted to “focus group” and “brainstorm”!
NIGEL: Yes, and who did I get stuck with? You two! Dear Zarathustra, you are the worst people to be stuck with a crisis! You couldn’t be a couple of crazy survivalists, could you? Or passing experts on mythology with a side order of extra-curricular monster-defeating, could you? That thirteenth century Viking lord, King Havoc the Imbecile and his inbred half-brother would be more help than the pair of you!
DAVE: Pity you’re such an annoying and selfish little creep none of those helpful folk would ever want to spend any time with you, then, isn’t it?
NIGEL: Dave! How dare you!
DAVE: And even if they were here, they’d probably have beaten you to death with a bag of warm peat rather than listen to you drone on and on...
SFX: the toilet flushes.
BEAT
ANDREW: Ahem? Now that I have your attention, can we get back to the topic?
DAVE: Medusa out there seems to be heading away.
NIGEL: She’ll be back though.
ANDREW: Very likely. So, Nigel, what’s this plan of yours?
NIGEL: You want the long version or short version?
DAVE: (THINKS) Long.
NIGEL: Don’t let it kill us.
BEAT.
ANDREW: What was the short version?
NIGEL: “Mummy!”
DAVE: Is that it?
NIGEL: Not entirely. The situation is, as I see it, kill or be killed.
ANDREW: And the plan?
NIGEL: Not be “the killed” part of that equation.
DAVE: So you’re saying we should try and kill Medusa.
NIGEL: As far as your primitive and reductive reasoning goes? Yes.
ANDREW: Oh, very clever.
NIGEL: I thought so.
ANDREW: I was being sarcastic.
NIGEL: Are you anything else?
ANDREW: Yes.
DAVE: Hang on, that could be sarcastic as well...
ANDREW: Shut up, Dave!
DAVE: Look, if killing the Gorgon was so damn easy, wouldn’t the armed services of this great and bountiful land already have put a cap in its arse?
NIGEL: And if killing the Gorgon was so damn hard, why is there only one of them, huh? Why haven’t they spread all across the globe?
ANDREW: Don’t Gorgons find each other too disgusting to have sex with?
NIGEL: Oh. Sort of like...
DAVE: (INTERRUPTS) Don’t finish that sentence.
NIGEL: I didn’t really have an example there, if I’m honest. How did they kill the Medusa in the story? Chopped her head off, didn’t they?
ANDREW: Yeah. Perseus looked in a mirror while he fought her. Which is a lot harder than it sounds, when you think about it.
NIGEL: Sounds like a good plan. Chop her head off.
DAVE: With what? And even if we do manage to kill it? What then?
NIGEL: (CONFUSED) The chat show circuit. Couple of documentaries. Might get the film rights. I fail to see how any of this could be a downside, especially with the whole “we don’t die horribly” baseline.
ANDREW: What’s your problem, Dave?
DAVE: Well... we’d be making a species extinct.
NIGEL: I beg your pardon?
DAVE: That could be the only Gorgon in the world. And if we kill it... well...
NIGEL: ...then there is no Gorgon to terrorize future generations. What precisely is the downside here?
DAVE: Wiping out an entire species!
NIGEL: A species which, I think we should agree on this point, is not doing anything to endear itself to us.
ANDREW: Exactly. Nigel’s right. What does a Gorgon give back to the environment, eh? Apart from stone ornaments. Nothing. The world is better off without them.
NIGEL: Well said, Andrew.
ANDREW: They’re as bad as pandas.
DAVE: Pandas?
NIGEL: Not so well said, Andrew.
ANDREW: I mean it. Pandas are endangered, so what? The world can survive perfectly well without them. They do sod all except sit around all day, eating bamboo and farting. You know why there are so few of the damn things? Because they refuse to breed. We can lock Mr. Panda in the panda equivalent of the Playboy Mansion and what does he do? Chew bamboo. Mankind is bending over backwards to save the Pandas and they don’t do a damn thing to help themselves. I say, let the useless bastards die out, they don’t WANT to survive!
BEAT.
ANDREW: Sorry. It’s just been bugging me for a long time.
NIGEL: Yeah. We’re just getting that.
DAVE: I’m sure there’s more to Panda survival than all that, Andrew.
ANDREW: Is there? Well, I promise to research it more depth. But first, we need to kill the Gorgon, don’t we?
DAVE: Yeah, but that’s my problem. You say, “let the Pandas die out,” you don’t say “murder them all with your bare hands” do you?
NIGEL: Dave, I’m pretty sure it’s going to take more than just our bare hands to kill a Gorgon. Especially as beheading seems the only way to do it.
DAVE: But we’d be directly responsible for the death of a unique form of life. Can you live with that on your consciences?
ANDREW: Honestly? Not sure. But I, for one, am willing to find out.
DAVE: Yeah, well, I don’t know...
NIGEL: Oh brilliant, Dave! You can die knowing you kept the moral high ground! All right, every inch of your body is being transformed to rock but at least you can console yourself you made Dr. David Suzuki proud!
SFX: another howl, getting further away.
ANDREW: Whatever happened to David Suzuki, anyway?
DAVE: I think he designed a car, didn’t he?
NIGEL: That hypocrite! I bet it isn’t even a hybrid. Remind me to publically denounce him once I’m on television and famous for killing the Gorgon.
ANDREW: Pah. Remind yourself.
NIGEL: Fine! So. The plan. Kill the Gorgon while it’s distracted.
ANDREW: Yeah. I’ve got some ideas how to...
DAVE: (INTERRUPTS) Er, hang on. Wait, wait, wait. What distraction?
ANDREW: Sorry?
DAVE: You said, kill the Gorgon while it’s distracted. What’s distracting it?
NIGEL: You are. Obviously.
DAVE: Me?
ANDREW: Yeah. While that thing is busy turning you to stone, we sneak up behind it and...
DAVE: ...ME?!?
NIGEL: Dave, are you suffering ADD? This is kill or be killed. You no want to kill, so you in the “be killed” category. Please let us interested in our own survival work in peace. (IGNORING HIM) Now, Andrew, we got any swords or anything like that we can use?
ANDREW: No. The kitchen knives, some of them might be sharp enough...
NIGEL: Yeah, but we can’t use them. It’d take ages to cut her head off.
ANDREW: We need a hacksaw or something.
NIGEL: And what about the snakes?
ANDREW: Good point. Are they actually snakes or just look like them? Are they poisonous? I honestly don’t know.
DAVE: You’re just going to let me die?
ANDREW: Why are we still talking about this? Yes, we are going to let you die. You have nothing to live for. You’re worse than a panda.
NIGEL: We all know you’re a self-harming emo, anyway.
DAVE: I am not an emo!
ANDREW: Yeah, don’t call him an emo, Nige. You’ll make him cry.
DAVE: I am not an emo!
NIGEL: I notice you’re not denying the self-harm bit.
DAVE: Oh, ONE TIME!
ANDREW: One time is all it takes.
NIGEL: Ooh, that’s good. I’ve got to work that in as my catchphrase for the media when I tell them about how I killed the Gorgon. I said that. I said, “one time is all it takes – bitch!” I’ll add the “bitch” for cultural relevance.
ANDREW: Are all Gorgons female?
NIGEL: What?
ANDREW: Just if it’s a man...
NIGEL: Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.
DAVE: Excuse me! I got a bit freaked out at the job centre one time and accidentally scratched my sunburn a bit too much – that does not make me an emo! All right?
NIGEL: Well, we will let history judge you.
ANDREW: Once you’re dead.
DAVE: I don’t want to die.
ANDREW: You don’t want to live, either.
NIGEL: Yeah, Dave. What’s your big plan? Where do you see yourself in five year’s time?
DAVE: I hate that question.
ANDREW: You hate it because you don’t have an answer.
NIGEL: It terrifies you. Brings you out in a sweat. Which I can smell. Seriously. I bet the Gorgon can smell that...
ANDREW: Like a crocodile.
NIGEL: Crocodiles and pandas! Do you talk about anything else?! Now, Dave. Seriously. I take no pleasure in this. But you have nothing to live for. Your family hates you. You fail at everything. There are people living in cardboard boxes with more self-respect than you filing DVDs at the video shop. The only way you could get a girlfriend was if she had enough pity for you to balance out your own grotesque physical repulsiveness. You are a social, academic, evolutionary dead-end. Will you actually surviving this crisis do anyone any good anywhere?
DAVE: (QUIET) Guess not.
ANDREW: Nigel’s being very harsh... but, let’s be honest here, Dave. If someone has to be used as a Judas Goat to lure out the... the Pontious Pilot Tyrannosaurus Rex in the Ancient Roman Jurassic Park, then at least it should be... well. You. I’m really not sure where this biblical/dinosaur metaphor is going.
DAVE: That came across loud and clear, Andrew.
ANDREW: The point is, I don’t want you think that I don’t care about you. I do. And, in his own misanthropic, self-centred, borderline-sociopathic way, so does Nigel. We’re not going to find you being turned to stone and killed a good thing.
NIGEL: We might giggle a bit.
ANDREW: Yeah. Quite probably. But we’ll be laughing at you. Not with you.
DAVE: That’s not helping.
ANDREW: I know, but neither are you, are you? Think of it this way, Dave. You will be the man who deliberately lay down his live for his flat mates and gave us the chance to live lives so much more fantastic and fulfilling than...
NIGEL: ...than you’d have lived if it was the other way round.
ANDREW: Nigel, you’re not helping.
DAVE: Neither are you!
NIGEL: Dave! This is a life-or-death situation. Now, either two of us get out of here or none of us do – and you are whiney, self-hating and possibly bipolar with no career prospects, social life or any discernible talent. Are you seriously going to look me in the eye and tell me you have anything to live for?
ANDREW: Especially as it’s so dark in here, looking anyone in the eye is completely meaningless anyway...
DAVE: Yes. Thanks for that, Andrew.
BEAT.
DAVE: (SAD) You’re right. I’m the most expendable one here.
NIGEL: It gives me no pleasure to say this, Dave. But you’re absolutely right. It is much better Andrew and myself survive to see mankind through the turbulent times ahead...
DAVE: What turbulent times?
NIGEL: Um, let me think. Oh wait! Gorgons are real! What next, huh? Is the next series of Survivor going to be interrupted by a Cyclops? Will animal husbandry be made illegal when Minotaurs get born? And, you know, if Medusa is real, what about Poseidon and Jupiter and Aphrodite... this is going to be epic.
ANDREW: A veritable clash of the titans...
NIGEL: No one with a central nervous system finds you amusing, Andrew. And think about the military implications, Dave.
DAVE: (SKEPTICAL) “Military implications?”
NIGEL: You think the US Army is going to ignore something that can turn your enemy to stone? You mark my words, six months and they’ll be dropping USA-Gorgons into the Middle East. Medusa heads will replace tactical nuclear weapons. The cold war just warmed up...
ANDREW: Nigel.
NIGEL: What?
ANDREW: The cold war ended years ago.
NIGEL: Did it?
DAVE: Yes.
NIGEL: I must have missed that. Anyway, the point still stands.
DAVE: So, what, you and Andrew are going to singlehandedly prevent some arms race using body parts of Gorgons?
NIGEL: You never know. And, be honest, Dave, we’re far better qualified for that than you are.
DAVE: Guess so. (SWALLOWS) This is it, then? The night I die.
ANDREW: Least you get some warning.
DAVE: Guess so.
SAD SILENCE.
ANDREW: Maybe we should discuss some stuff first.
DAVE: What? Like what?
ANDREW: How do you want to be buried, Dave?
DAVE: Um. I never really thought about it.
NIGEL: Pull the other one, Dave. Everyone’s thought of how they want their funeral to go. I for one want a tape recorder fitted to my coffin so as it goes into the crematorium my voice will be heard screaming desperately that there’s been a mistake and I’m not actually dead. (LAUGHS) That’ll get them good.
ANDREW AND DAVE LAUGH, THEN TRAIL OFF.
DAVE: Hang on, what if you do actually get burned alive? No one would let you out, they’d just think it was a tape recording.
NIGEL: Oh. Guess they would. Hmm. Yeah, that needs some more thought. Good thing you mentioned that, Dave. What are you having Andrew?
ANDREW: Well, a Viking funeral always appeals to me. Put me out on the harbor on a very-flammable boat, some big hairy guys called Ulf and Sven and Gunnar the Giant, some flamethrowers set to eleven...
NIGEL: What happens at the wake? Rape, pillage and conquest?
ANDREW: Well... maybe not the rape. The rest sounds like a good night out.
NIGEL: What are you having on the headstone?
ANDREW: Ooh, I was thinking something either like “I WON THE HUMAN RACE!” or “YOU’RE A NOSEY BASTARD, AREN’T YOU?” written in teeny-tiny little letters that you have to stand with your face right in the gravestone to even get close enough to read. What are you having, Nigel?
NIGEL: Not sure. A statue of me big enough to be seen from space was the original idea, but to be honest, this business has put me right off statues.
DAVE: You couldn’t afford that!
NIGEL: So? I’ll be dead! Let them send the bill the afterlife!
DAVE: You believe in an afterlife then?
ANDREW: You don’t?
DAVE: I’ve never been very religious.
NIGEL: Yeah, and we all know why. Being devoted to a single religion requires faith, perseverance and commitment. You can’t even get through a DVD box set of Lost – you were never going to make it in organized belief!
DAVE: What do you believe in then, Nige? You believe in god?
NIGEL: Of course. Why else would I be made in His image?
BEAT.
ANDREW: Well, that’s a thought to put you off creationism.
NIGEL: Look, I think the face a Gorgon exists means we’re going to have to rethink some basic theology. Let’s just accept everything, believe nothing, and try not to be surprised when it turns out that the answer turns out to be 42.
DAVE: But what do you think happens? When we die, I mean?
ANDREW: Well, traditionally, the heart stops beating.
NIGEL: That is a common factor, true.
DAVE: You know what I mean!
ANDREW: Well, you’ve got to remember, Dave, no one dies instantly. The body shuts down. From what I half-remember from some rather pretentious science fiction show, I’m fairly certain the human brain can survive for two minutes after the body is dead. That’s why people with their heads cut off can keep blinking for a while. Or something. The point is, you’d still exist for a couple of minutes.
DAVE: And then what?
ANDREW: How the hell should I know?
NIGEL: Look at it this way, Dave... if you die, you cease to exist, right?
DAVE: Right.
NIGEL: So it’s easy to know what that feels like.
DAVE: Is it?
NIGEL: Yeah. Just remember what it was like before you were born.
DAVE: No one remembers that.
NIGEL: Can’t be that bad then, can it?
ANDREW: Nigel’s right. Everyone’s worried about where we go, but no one ever explores where we came from. Assuming they’re not one and the same.
ANDREW CLAPS HIS HANDS.
ANDREW: Anyway, enough of the incredibly amateur philosophy. What do you want for your funeral, Dave?
DAVE: Um. Well, I suppose you’ll have to sort out how to bury a statue or something like that. But I want my family there. If they’re willing to turn up. I suppose you can get my friends to go, like Jadi and Phoebe... maybe some of the guys from the video store... and you... and... oh man, I have literally no one. I bet no one would even notice me if I died!
NIGEL: Oh, you’re not getting miserable again are you?
DAVE: Facebook, twitter, myspace... all of the internet and I still have no one! Damn it, I suck.... I never realized how totally pathetic I was... oh, Andrew, man it hurts...
ANDREW: Yes, but then again, looking on the bright side, it’s not going to hurt for much longer. Now, what music did you have in mind?
DAVE: Music?
NIGEL: Yeah. You don’t want that dull old Death March, do you?
ANDREW: What’s your favorite song?
DAVE: Dumb Things by Paul Kelly.
NIGEL: Heh. That is so appropriate.
ANDREW: I knew it. It was either that or Like It Like That by Guy Sebastian...
DAVE: Oh, rub it in!
ANDREW: Take it easy. Right, Nigel. He wants Dumb Things played during the ceremony, with all the friends and family we can bully into attending. Remember that. Now, Dave, anything else?
DAVE: I don’t know!
NIGEL: Dude, this could be amazing. You can make it so everyone has to turn up to the funeral not wearing trousers, or everyone needs to snort back some helium before they’re allowed to eulogize you! Imagine it! It’d be like the Chipmunks meet American Beauty...
ANDREW: And that is quite an interesting thought...
NIGEL: Or you could have everyone have to attend with a dead fish in their top pocket and then have a really long service, so it stinks out the whole church.
DAVE: It’s a bit childish, isn’t it?
NIGEL: Yes. But funerals are for the benefit of the living, remember? And if the living get a few mean-spirited pranks out of it, all the better if you ask me.
ANDREW: Put any thought into your will?
DAVE: My will? You mean, last will and testament?
ANDREW: The very same.
DAVE: No. Guess I never thought I’d die this young.
NIGEL: Tch. No foresight.
ANDREW: Ah, the arrogance of youth.
NIGEL: Anyway, Dave. I think you should either let us keep all your stuff, or have us sell it on eBay and give the money to your family to make up for the years of their lives you so rudely wasted over the years.
DAVE SOBS.
NIGEL: I don’t want to be cruel, Dave, but it’s much easier on us all if you die pleased to be free of this mortal coil rather than being all resentful, surely? Don’t you agree, Andrew? (BEAT) Andrew?
ANDREW: Hmm? Oh, sorry. Dave. Listen to me. This is very important.
DAVE: (SNIFFLES) What?
ANDREW: I really think that “Gotta Go Home” by Boney M would be a far better choice for your funeral. Everyone can dance to Boney M.
NIGEL: (SCORNFUL) Boney M.
ANDREW: What’s wrong with Boney M?
NIGEL: They’re rubbish, how about that?
ANDREW: Tell it to the billions who grooved to Rasputin.
NIGEL: Grooved? “Grooved”? Andrew, you’re more out of your time than Madam Medusa out there!
ANDREW: Oh, what would you know about anything, blondie?!
DAVE: GUYS! TIME AND A PLACE!
ANDREW & NIGEL: (SIMULTANEOUS) Sorry.
DAVE: I am so utterly sick of the pair of you it is just not funny any more. You know that? You two are the most irritating pair of would-be intellectual losers I have ever met. If you two actually shut up for five minutes or actually discussed anything in any way relevant, I think there’s a damn good chance your heads would implode like mini-black holes! I’ve had better conversations from a cement mixer! Shrieking baboons make better points than you two arrogant little creeps! So, OK, maybe the world won’t miss me when I’m dead but it’d be sighing in relief if you two jerks finally did us all a favor and threw yourself under a bus AND JUST STOPPED TALKING!!!
BEAT.
ANDREW: There’s that hostility again. I told you I sensed it.
NIGEL: Your mind is like a steel trap, Andrew. Both rusty and dangerous.
DAVE: Have either of you heard a word I just said?
NIGEL: It’d be difficult to miss.
DAVE: Right! That does it! Even being turned into a statue is better than sitting in a pitch black water closet listening to your non-stop endless, twelve-commemorate-volume collection of utter crap in both ears! MEDUSA! Start running for your life, you snake-haired bitch! DAVE’S COMING!
DAVE TEARS DOWN THE SHOWER CURTAIN.
ANDREW: What the...? That’s the rail for the shower curtain!
NIGEL: I love that curtain!
DAVE: Tough! I need it!
NIGEL: So do we! We intend to live another day.
ANDREW: And wash another day.
NIGEL: Well, some of us.
DAVE: I’m using this to bludgeon Medusa to death.
ANDREW: What happened to ecological conservation?
DAVE CRACKS ANDREW OVER THE HEAD WITH THE SHOWER RAIL.
ANDREW: That’s a surprisingly convincing argument. I think I’ll just slide to the floor and try not to lose consciousness.
ANDREW COLLAPSES.
DAVE: Right. Nigel!
NIGEL: I didn’t say anything! Don’t hit me!
DAVE: Open the damned door.
NIGEL: Doing it!
SFX: the door opens.
NIGEL: It’s gone.
DAVE: It’ll be back.
ANDREW: My head really does hurt. I cannot emphasize that enough.
DAVE: So what’s your plan while I’m bravely sacrificing my life?
NIGEL: Run like hell in the opposite direction, find the car, drive...
DAVE: Brilliant.
NIGEL: (BASHFUL) Well, I thought so.
DAVE: But doesn’t the Gorgon have wings?
NIGEL: Your point being?
DAVE: My point being that it’ll fly after you.
NIGEL: I suppose that’s possible. A bit. Maybe. Oh hell.
DAVE: (WITH CONTEMPT) Look on the bright side, Nige. You’ll get a couple of minutes extra life which you’ll do so much more with than I ever could.
NIGEL: Yeah. That’s true. So, Dave. Any last words?
DAVE: None.
NIGEL: You’re gonna die silent then? Hardcore.
DAVE: No, I’m not going to die.
NIGEL: At all?
DAVE: At all.
NIGEL: Didn’t we clarify this whole “kill or be killed” business?
DAVE: Yes. And I am not going to be killed.
NIGEL: Aren’t you?
DAVE: No. The Gorgon isn’t going to kill me. Because I’m going to kill it first. Her. Whatever.
NIGEL: Well, I’m sure if you’re confident in your abilities... then the chances are you won’t last for more than eighteen seconds before dying horribly. Remember those self-defense classes at school? You got beaten up... by that test dummy. An inanimate object, Dave. You could not defeat a punching bag.
DAVE: Yeah, well, no more. No more mister nice guy.
NIGEL: I think you might have left it a bit too late, personally.
DAVE: Tough! Remember what Che Gevara said!
NIGEL: “Damn it, I look good on a T-shirt?”
DAVE: No. He said it is better to die on your feet than live on your knees.
NIGEL: I’m pretty sure that was Zampata.
DAVE: Nigel, you know I bow to no one in deference to your grasp of political history. But let’s face facts. You’re an imbecile.
NIGEL: Yeah, better a living imbecile than a dead... clever-type person.
DAVE: Yeah, THAT sounds like Zampata.
NIGEL: Thought so.
DAVE: I’ve had enough of negative thinking holding me back. If some Greek twerp in a toga can defeat a Gorgon, then I should have no trouble.
NIGEL: I like your thinking, but I keep hearing that that particular Gorgon is the only non-indestructible, very-un-invincible one ever...
DAVE: I’m going to do it, Nige! I’m going to bloody do it! Tonight, Medusa’s ugly sister took on the wrong part-time video shelf stacker! YES! This is going to be the greatest night of Dave Restal’s life!
NIGEL: Riiiiiight.... Anyway, Dave, you really better get going before you realize how depressingly true that is.
DAVE: I can’t lose, Nige! I’ve got two thousand years of civilization riding on my back, and the unshakeable human determination to struggle, to fight, to strive, and not to yield! Plus, I’ve got this bathroom rail to bludgeon it with. What’s Medusa got that I haven’t?
NIGEL: Wings, claws, snake-hair and the ability to turn victims to stone.
DAVE: (SIGHS) That’ll probably tip the balance in her favor, yeah.
NIGEL: So. Any final words for posterity?
DAVE: None that come to mind.
NIGEL: I could make some up for you.
DAVE: Oh, no you don’t. My last utterance on this Earth is not going to be something you came up with off the top of your bleached-blonde head!
NIGEL: Well, I’m the one who’s going to report them to the rest of the world. If you can’t come up with anything, I’ll just have to use my imagination, won’t I? After my imagination’s better than yours.
DAVE: Fine. My last words. Ahem... you better not misquote me.
NIGEL: As if I would!
DAVE: Fine. Last words. “This is Dave Restal... signing off.”
NIGEL: Been done, hasn’t it?
DAVE: Yeah. Guess so. You better think of something cool.
NIGEL: Trust me. It’s going to be up there with that guy who died saying “They couldn’t hit an elephant at this distance!” and the Marx Brother who said “Last words are for fools who hadn’t said enough!”
DAVE: Karl?
NIGEL: Nah, I think it was Zeppo.
SFX: dustbins being knocked over.
DAVE: What was that?
NIGEL: Medusa... she must be out the front. I don’t want to come across as insensitive in any way, shape or form, Dave, but get the hell out of here and face oblivion while me and Andrew leg it, all right?
DAVE: Yeah. All right.
NIGEL: And, you know, try not to die instantly. Hold her off as long as you can before you let her turn you to stone, if you can.
DAVE: Will do.
NIGEL: You’re a brave man, Dave.
DAVE: (WALKING OFF) Wow. That really makes it all worthwhile.
DAVE HEADS OUT.
NIGEL: (CALLS AFTER HIM) That’s really appreciated, Dave! Seriously! I’m giving you some serious props for this! You’re a legend, Dave! A fair dinkum legend! You hear? Go get them, tiger! Go, you good thing! Go!
BEAT.
ANDREW: Is he gone?
NIGEL: Yep.
ANDREW: (SIGHS) Phew. I thought that’d never work.
SCENE 3: EXT. STREET. NIGHT
DAVE EMERGES FROM THE HOUSE. NIGHT ATMOS.
DAVE: (TO HIMSELF) No sign of her... no sign of anyone, come to that...
SFX: footsteps.
DAVE: So cold... freezing... you’d think it was winter... maybe Gorgon’s sucking the heat out of the air... no, wait, that’s ghosts. And ghosts aren’t real. Mind you, I didn’t think Gorgons were real either.
SFX: a dog howls in the distance.
DAVE: Aw. Someone must have left their dog behind when they evacuated.
SFX: the dog is cut short with a cry.
DAVE: That cannot be good.
SFX: running footsteps.
DAVE: Can barely see a thing. No lights at all. I remember my uncle said we were dependant on electricity. Take it away and we’re cavemen. Cavemen with a lot of white goods that don’t work, admittedly, but still cavemen...
SFX: footsteps stop.
DAVE: Oh great. Now I’m lost. I have no idea where I am. Trust the Gorgon to attack the same night there isn’t even a moonlight. I’m lost, freezing and the chances are there’s something creeping up behind me. I’m dead meat.
DAVE TRIES TO BREATHE AWAY HIS PANIC.
DAVE: Stay calm. Stop talking to yourself. The last voice you ever hear is your own. So quiet... I’d say too quiet, but... well, I know why it’s quiet so it’s not like the whole quiet thing is suspicious... That’s a point. If Nigel starts the engine it’ll be really loud. I better distract Medusa with lots of noise.
BEAT.
DAVE: And I’ll start on that right away.
SILENCE.
DAVE: Any minute now. (SOFTLY) Medusa? Where are you? Oh well, I tried, can’t say... What was that?
SILENCE.
DAVE: Calm down, Dave. You’ll be dead of heart failure at this rate. Heh. That could be ironic. Have a heart failure before it can turn you to stone. Can you turn a corpse to stone? Or a blind man? Come to think of it, it doesn’t make sense to turn people to stone. Evolutionary-speaking. How does that help? Probably a curse or something from the gods. Stupid gods. Yeah, Zeus, you hear that? You’re a jerk, creating a monster like that. If you did. Oh, where is Miss Haralumbous now? I could use a refresher course in mythology.
SFX: a distance scraping noise, like stone on stone.
DAVE: I heard that.
SILENCE.
SFX: a roar, shockingly close and loud.
DAVE: Hello there! I’ve been looking for you! Admittedly, you know, with my eyes closed but I’m been looking for you! Having fun rummaging through trash? That’s all you’re good for, isn’t it? You hopeless loser!
SFX: louder roars.
DAVE: That’s it! Come on! I’ll give you a five second start, lady!
THE GORGON GETS CLOSER AND CLOSER.
DAVE: Actually, no, that’s a lie.
DAVE STARTS RUNNING.
DAVE: Please don’t have a bow and arrow. Please don’t have a bow and arrow. Please don’t have a bow and arrow.
SFX: a long roar.
DAVE: Yeah, not-so-silent night any more, huh? Come on, you ugly cow! You’ve been searching for me all night. Come and get it!
SFX: bins being knocked over.
DAVE: Oh god, it’s actually taking me seriously. Run, run, run!
SFX: another roar. REALLY loud.
DAVE: Don’t look back. Never look back. Psychologically, it’s what you’ve done for years, I suppose... whoa!
DAVE FALLS DOWN SOME STEPS.
DAVE: (PAINED) Son of a bitch! My back! Uhhh... hang on... I can’t hear the Gorgon any more. Where is it? Use one eye. Maybe that will work. Holy crap, I’m going to die. I can’t believe that’s only just sinking in... or maybe I finally can believe it... this would be so much easier if I didn’t hurt so much!
BEAT.
DAVE: Nothing. Must still be in the next street looking for me. OK, Dave. Do you go and engage the monster or let it wander off and turn the others to stone? Both such enticing options. Maybe they’ve already left. Maybe...
DAVE IS STARTLED.
DAVE: Gah! (CALMS) Oh. Just a statue. A postman. Wow. That vow to always get the mail through obviously doesn’t cover Gorgons. Rough. I wonder if you had any mail for me... that bitch turned the letters to stone! Brilliant! I bet that package I ordered was turned into stone as well! Bitch!
SFX: distant roaring.
DAVE: I can’t do this. I can’t get so angry I’m not scared. How do shock-jocks cope? I’m so scared. But I shouldn’t be. You can only be scared if there’s a chance I’ll be saved. And no one’s going to save me. I’ll just end up like postie. No chance. No hope. No witty final words.
SFX: distant scraping, louder and closer. Rattlesnake noises.
DAVE: It’s coming for me. Oh, man, I can hear it breathing...
SFX: a close roar.
DAVE: Sounds like it’s right in front of me... hang on... I can’t see it. It’s so dark I can’t see it... hah! (RELIEVED) Hah! I never thought of that! I can’t see Medusa in this dark, so I can’t see her stupid ugly face, so she can’t turn me to stone. Haha! Up yours, Gorgon!
SFX: another roar.
DAVE: Bring it on, bitch! I’ve got a shower rail and I’m not afraid to use it!
THE GORGON PUNCHES DAVE IN THE STOMACH. HE COLLAPSES.
DAVE: Oof! (WHEEZES) OK. Let’s try talking instead! My name’s Dave, pleased to meet you! I hear Athens is lovely this time of year...
THE GORGON ROARS AND ATTACKS DAVE.
DAVE: No! Wait! I can help! Plastic surgery! You think you’re ugly? That can be fixed! You ever heard of Michael Jackson? Seriously, we can talk about this! Come on! You must have so much to talk about...
SFX: Gorgon roars death threat.
DAVE: So, you don’t even have a nice personality to make up for your looks, huh? And you’re immune to shower rails. Consider me out of ideas...
SFX: a car driving at top speed.
A CAR HURTLES DOWN THE STREET AND SLAMS INTO THE GORGON AT TOP SPEED, RUNNING IT OVER. IT SCREAMS.
DAVE: What the hell?!
ANDREW: You are terrible at this, Dave! You are the worst expendable decoy ever! You can’t even die horribly in a noble cause!
NIGEL: Put it in reverse, you moron!
THE CAR REVERSES. THE GORGON MOANS.
NIGEL: And back over its spine...
SFX: the howling and rattlesnake melt into silence.
LONG SILENCE.
ANDREW: Hah! Indestructible my left kidney! They didn’t have four-wheel drives back then! Let’s see the Gorgon get about with two broken wings and a compound skull fracture! Come on, out, out, out.
ANDREW AND NIGEL GET OUT OF THE CAR.
NIGEL: Look at the dents in the bodywork, Andrew! My beautiful car!
DAVE: Why did you idiots have the lights on! I nearly saw her face!
ANDREW: We needed to see where she was so we could run her over!
DAVE: Obviously!
NIGEL: Yes, obviously. Oh, will you just look at my car! The insurance company will never believe this!
ANDREW: What, that you ran into a Gorgon?
NIGEL: No, that I let you drive! I’m not getting a cent out of this!
DAVE: Forget about that, Nigel. That thing is still alive!
ANDREW: With half its bones broken and a very heavy car on top of it.
DAVE: I still think we should get the hell out of here.
ANDREW: You know, I think that might just be the first sensible thing I’ve heard in the last forty-seven minutes!
THEY START TO RUN OFF.
NIGEL: Where to?
DAVE: Dunno. Keep following the railway line until we reach a blockade.
ANDREW: And then avoid being shot.
NIGEL: Oh, lighten up! We survived hit-and-running Medusa, we’ll be all right. Especially with my intense personal charisma.
DAVE: Ok, but if they shoot us, you’re going to feel really, really stupid.
ANDREW: He’s used to that.
NIGEL: Excuse me, but who precisely came up with the genius plan of defeating the Gorgon by using Dave as a distraction to lure it into a false sense of security while we ran it over?
DAVE: ...well, it wasn’t me!
ANDREW: No, it was me.
DAVE: Why didn’t you tell me about it?
NIGEL: Need to know, Dave. Need to know.
DAVE: And I needed to know!
NIGEL: And what if it went wrong and you got turned to stone? That would have been awful. At least this way us saving you was a nice surprise and not something to get all bitter about.
ANDREW: For once.
NIGEL: Yeah, you’re so self-involved, Dave.
ANDREW: Worst possible person to have in a crisis.
DAVE: Hey, I stood up to Medusa believing I was going to die!
NIGEL: Only an Emo.
ANDREW: Do you think there are emo emus?
NIGEL: ...shut up, Andrew.
DAVE: Come on, round this corner.
ANDREW: You ever going to thank us for saving your life?
DAVE: Once I’m not angry with you.
ANDREW: You’ve got to admit, the cunning plan was VERY clever...
DAVE: (GRUDGING) Yeah. Clever.
NIGEL: Well, it’s like I’m always telling you– it pays to be “Gorgonized”.
LONG PAUSE.
DAVE: Did that sound better in your head?
NIGEL: If I’m honest? No.
FADE
SFX: distantly, the Gorgon howls again.
THE END