HELP PLZ
Hey guys. So, post-emo mode and I have what I've written for ext2. PLEASE read it. I beg you. PLEASE give me con-crit. I will be forever greatful. (This is just the first 1,600something words. More will come soon.)
Freeze-frame of MARTIN MARTIN, probably an employee photograph; bust. He is a well-groomed, and yet slightly untrustworthy looking fellow; he wears a cheesy smile.
NARRATOR: This is Martin. His last name is also Martin.
Freeze-frame of MARTIN, same cheesy smile pinned on his lips. He stands in the middle of his OFFICE.
NARRATOR: Martin is an accountant.
Shot of PANGLOSS & SONS (angled from the side, obviously a photograph taken from across the street): it's a square shaped building, and is almost overpowered by the conglomeration of skyscrapers behind it.
NARRATOR: He works here, at Pangloss & Sons - Manhattan's prestigious accountancy firm. It's a known fact that Pangloss & Sons is the place to go for any financial problems. They've received three awards due to their efficiency.
Freeze-frames of PANGLOSS receiving these awards.
All frames are variations of PANGLOSS shaking hands with REPRESENTATIVE, grasping a gold-framed award.
He is a man in his seventies, with a beard that appears to be eating his face.
On-screen text reads ERIC JOSEPH MICHAEL PANGLOSS, President, C.E.O, Chairman of the Board, Pure Evil.
NARRATOR: Martin is a very good accountant.
FINALLY, action. MARTIN flips through a manila folder and is situated in one corridor of his floor. DAVID stands opposite him, MARTIN seems unimpressed.
NARRATOR: Well, almost very good.
MARTIN: [With great exasperation.] David, you're lucky I found this. I can't believe you lost it. Mister - [Frame freezes.]
NARRATOR: Considering he couldn't remember his client's name.
MARTIN closes the folder - squints at the lopsided, printed name on the front. A moment's hesitation:
MARTIN: Rosenbaum. Mister Rosenbaum's case would have been put in great jeopardy.
DAVID tries to speak. He is a young man; late teens. He suffers from a bad case of acne and obviously lacks a hair stylist. MARTIN cuts him off with a sharp movement of his hand.
MARTIN: Don't make excuses. We're an accountancy firm, not a playground. You pay attention to your work.
QUICK SNAP SHOT, to the PAST:
ATTRACTIVE SECRETARY walks by, MARTIN stands at the coffee machine. He leans forward, head tilting as he watches her - forward, forward -
NARRATOR: In fact, Martin had misplaced the folder when he had been distracted by his boss' new secretary.
The coffee machine spurts hot coffee onto Martin - unfortunately, in a very sensitive area. He reacts, embarrassed (ATTRACTIVE SECRETARY looks around, unimpressed.) He ducks his head, and flees left of screen. The same manila folder remains, beside the coffee machine.
BACK TO THE PRESENT:
DAVID is sullen.
MARTIN: Make yourself useful. Get me a coffee and some dumplings.
Frame switches to SAM CHAN'S CHINESE BAKERY.
NARRATOR: Sam Chan's was a popular place to eat. Word on the street was that they sold the best dumplings ever known to New York.
A CHINESE CHEF discovers the body of a dead rat in the corner. He ponders it for a moment, shrugs, and tosses it nonchalantly into the nearest fry-pan.
NARRATOR: - Of course, they hadn't passed the last two health-checks and were only in business thanks to the Jewish Mafia.
Aforementioned JEWISH MAFIA sit in the small, grungy seating area of SAM CHAN'S. All wear yarmulkes and smile at the camera.
NARRATOR: The Jewish Mafia was often feared greater than the Italians, but only because they made people feel guilty about their mothers.
Back to MARTIN and DAVID. The former turns, and is about to leave - but suddenly changes his mind and glances back.
MARTIN: Forget the dumplings. Just the coffee.
MARTIN, proud, walks into his office. (MARTIN's office has glass walls on the corridor side. PANGLOSS had installed them, hoping to instil the feeling of being in a fishbowl into his employees.) DAVID stands in the open doorway a moment, before he proceeds to insult MARTIN in a humorous manner behind his back. MARTIN glances back, and arches a brow. DAVID flees.
MARTIN, still somewhat embodying the pride of a peacock (in a manner of speaking), remains standing for a few moments. The camera remains on him, as the NARRATOR speaks.
NARRATOR: Martin, out of pure luck, was one of the most successful employees of Pangloss & Sons. He had recently been upgraded to an office.
Camera swings around, revealing that the office is incredibly small, and the open window is an inch away from the brick wall of the neighbouring building.
MARTIN claps the manila folder shut and sets it very carefully onto his table. He spends a moment adjusting it, before taking a seat.
NARRATOR: Martin is thirty-six.
Camera focuses now on a framed photograph on MARTIN's scarily neat desk. It is of a pretty young woman, with short, dark hair and a thin smile, as though she is almost wary of whoever was behind the camera at the time.
NARRATOR: This is Diane. She and Martin met four months ago. They have a very healthy relationship.
QUICK SNAP SHOT; to the PAST:
DIANE sits to the left of the screen, MARTIN to the right. They are at a dinner table, in a gaudy looking restaurant. They appear to have almost finished eating.
On-screen text reads: THEIR FIRST DATE.
DIANE: [Insistent.] I really like girls.
MARTIN: [Oblivious.] So do I!
NARRATOR: She really likes girls.
Back to MARTIN.
He takes a seat, and swivels around in said chair, to gaze at the brick wall.
NARRATOR: Martin, at the moment, thinks his day is going very well. Unfortunately, he's about to meet -
Frame change: to EARL BROWN, a thirty-something man with unruly hair and a trenchcoat. He walks up the stairs to PANGLOSS & SONS, the frame freezes on his face.
NARRATOR: - this man.
On-screen text reads: EARL BROWN, CRIMINAL.
EARL is moving again, and suddenly shoulders into DAVID. They both stumble only slightly, but DAVID appears to be irritated over his earlier confrontation with MARTIN, and continues on without glancing back at EARL. EARL, tense a moment, hesitates, before turning and quickly heading inside the building. His hands are pocketed, and yet, both pockets seem to be filled by more than said appendages.
EARL stands in an elevator, squashed in between a very SHORT MAN with large glasses, and a TALL WOMAN who is far too high for the screen, so the shot is only able to see to her neck. EARL glances in between them, obviously catches the TALL WOMAN's eye - he smiles awkwardly and looks away again, pulling an expression of apparent worry. After an extended moment of unease, the elevator dings and EARL squeezes out, happy to escape.
EARL enters a chattering office floor, where before him spreads a sea of cubicles. The camera hangs on EARL a moment as he stands calmly, surveying the area. The camera then swings to the many employees running around.
SFX: The room is filled with constant sound; the clacking of computer keys, talking, laughing (mostly forced), photocopiers photocopying, faxes faxing, coffee machines - making ... coffee.
EARL pulls a .66 pistol from his right pocket, and holds it high into the air. He still retains an aura of utmost calm.
EARL: [Speaking calmly. He is barely audible over the tremendous noise that is the office-space.] Everybody. Hi. Hello? Get on th- everyone. I need you to get on the floor, please. [Looks desperate, as no one seems to listen.] Everybody! [Tries a little louder.] Hello! This is a robbery! I'm here to take all your- [Still, no one listens. Exasperated, finally, EARL-] Oh, for Christ sakes. [-pulls the trigger. There is an ear-shattering BANG, and the room goes silent. EARL stands still, and after a delayed moment, plaster from the ceiling that has been dislodged by the shot collapses onto him, spraying everybody, and himself, in white powder. EARL splutters, but this does not deter him. The ACCOUNTANTS all stare, absolutely silent.]
EARL: [Smiles.] Hi, everybody. My name's Earl, and I'm here to take all your money.
The ACCOUNTANTS stare.
Very brief frame change to MARTIN, who has been asleep in his chair. He snorts, jerks into a sit, and glances dazedly around. He sniffs. He is facing the brick wall, and the camera now turns around to place MARTIN in the left hand side of the screen, revealing, through the window-wall, the main office. The ACCOUNTANTS are still staring silently at EARL, who looks expectantly back at them. This is all in the background. We may also notice a MOUSEY ACCOUNTANT, frightened, and dialling his phone while he stares at EARL.
MARTIN frowns for a moment, and the audience is lead to believe he has heard the gunshot. However, he simply grunts and settles back in his chair, attempting to get to sleep once more.
Frame returns to EARL, and the silence is almost deafening. ACCOUNTANT ONE clears his throat, and glances to his colleagues. The frame freezes on EARL's face; capturing the moment when EARL realizes something has gone terribly wrong.
NARRATOR: Earl had made a mistake.
ACCOUNTANT ONE, after receiving no help from his colleagues, lifts a hesitant hand and stares once more at EARL.
ACCOUNTANT ONE: Um. I think you're - uh - we don't have any money. [Earl watches, calculating what he says, his gun still held high in the air.] We're - we're accountants. We handle money. We don't have it.
NARRATOR: Earl had been meaning to rob Manhattan's National Bank.
Backtrack. Photograph of the NATIONAL BANK.
On-screen text reads: WHERE EARL MEANT TO GO.
NARRATOR: Unfortunately, Earl had read the address incorrectly.
EARL stands squinting at a small white card. Close-up of the text on it; it appears to be the bank's calling card and has its address printed there. It reads 230 STATE STREET, MANHATTAN, IL 60442. EARL looks up, mumbles the address below his breath, and walks off screen.
NARRATOR: While the National Bank was located at 230 State Street, Pangloss & Sons was 320 State Street.
EARL stands outside Sam Chan's, now squinting at the address printed on the side of the building.
EARL: [Mumbling.] 230. - 320? [Decisively.] 320.
NARRATOR: Earl is dyslexic. It's not the best trait to have if you're a criminal.
Back to the present:
EARL slowly looks around him, stunned.
EARL: [In a murmur.] So that's why it doesn't look like a bank.
Freeze-frame of MARTIN MARTIN, probably an employee photograph; bust. He is a well-groomed, and yet slightly untrustworthy looking fellow; he wears a cheesy smile.
NARRATOR: This is Martin. His last name is also Martin.
Freeze-frame of MARTIN, same cheesy smile pinned on his lips. He stands in the middle of his OFFICE.
NARRATOR: Martin is an accountant.
Shot of PANGLOSS & SONS (angled from the side, obviously a photograph taken from across the street): it's a square shaped building, and is almost overpowered by the conglomeration of skyscrapers behind it.
NARRATOR: He works here, at Pangloss & Sons - Manhattan's prestigious accountancy firm. It's a known fact that Pangloss & Sons is the place to go for any financial problems. They've received three awards due to their efficiency.
Freeze-frames of PANGLOSS receiving these awards.
All frames are variations of PANGLOSS shaking hands with REPRESENTATIVE, grasping a gold-framed award.
He is a man in his seventies, with a beard that appears to be eating his face.
On-screen text reads ERIC JOSEPH MICHAEL PANGLOSS, President, C.E.O, Chairman of the Board, Pure Evil.
NARRATOR: Martin is a very good accountant.
FINALLY, action. MARTIN flips through a manila folder and is situated in one corridor of his floor. DAVID stands opposite him, MARTIN seems unimpressed.
NARRATOR: Well, almost very good.
MARTIN: [With great exasperation.] David, you're lucky I found this. I can't believe you lost it. Mister - [Frame freezes.]
NARRATOR: Considering he couldn't remember his client's name.
MARTIN closes the folder - squints at the lopsided, printed name on the front. A moment's hesitation:
MARTIN: Rosenbaum. Mister Rosenbaum's case would have been put in great jeopardy.
DAVID tries to speak. He is a young man; late teens. He suffers from a bad case of acne and obviously lacks a hair stylist. MARTIN cuts him off with a sharp movement of his hand.
MARTIN: Don't make excuses. We're an accountancy firm, not a playground. You pay attention to your work.
QUICK SNAP SHOT, to the PAST:
ATTRACTIVE SECRETARY walks by, MARTIN stands at the coffee machine. He leans forward, head tilting as he watches her - forward, forward -
NARRATOR: In fact, Martin had misplaced the folder when he had been distracted by his boss' new secretary.
The coffee machine spurts hot coffee onto Martin - unfortunately, in a very sensitive area. He reacts, embarrassed (ATTRACTIVE SECRETARY looks around, unimpressed.) He ducks his head, and flees left of screen. The same manila folder remains, beside the coffee machine.
BACK TO THE PRESENT:
DAVID is sullen.
MARTIN: Make yourself useful. Get me a coffee and some dumplings.
Frame switches to SAM CHAN'S CHINESE BAKERY.
NARRATOR: Sam Chan's was a popular place to eat. Word on the street was that they sold the best dumplings ever known to New York.
A CHINESE CHEF discovers the body of a dead rat in the corner. He ponders it for a moment, shrugs, and tosses it nonchalantly into the nearest fry-pan.
NARRATOR: - Of course, they hadn't passed the last two health-checks and were only in business thanks to the Jewish Mafia.
Aforementioned JEWISH MAFIA sit in the small, grungy seating area of SAM CHAN'S. All wear yarmulkes and smile at the camera.
NARRATOR: The Jewish Mafia was often feared greater than the Italians, but only because they made people feel guilty about their mothers.
Back to MARTIN and DAVID. The former turns, and is about to leave - but suddenly changes his mind and glances back.
MARTIN: Forget the dumplings. Just the coffee.
MARTIN, proud, walks into his office. (MARTIN's office has glass walls on the corridor side. PANGLOSS had installed them, hoping to instil the feeling of being in a fishbowl into his employees.) DAVID stands in the open doorway a moment, before he proceeds to insult MARTIN in a humorous manner behind his back. MARTIN glances back, and arches a brow. DAVID flees.
MARTIN, still somewhat embodying the pride of a peacock (in a manner of speaking), remains standing for a few moments. The camera remains on him, as the NARRATOR speaks.
NARRATOR: Martin, out of pure luck, was one of the most successful employees of Pangloss & Sons. He had recently been upgraded to an office.
Camera swings around, revealing that the office is incredibly small, and the open window is an inch away from the brick wall of the neighbouring building.
MARTIN claps the manila folder shut and sets it very carefully onto his table. He spends a moment adjusting it, before taking a seat.
NARRATOR: Martin is thirty-six.
Camera focuses now on a framed photograph on MARTIN's scarily neat desk. It is of a pretty young woman, with short, dark hair and a thin smile, as though she is almost wary of whoever was behind the camera at the time.
NARRATOR: This is Diane. She and Martin met four months ago. They have a very healthy relationship.
QUICK SNAP SHOT; to the PAST:
DIANE sits to the left of the screen, MARTIN to the right. They are at a dinner table, in a gaudy looking restaurant. They appear to have almost finished eating.
On-screen text reads: THEIR FIRST DATE.
DIANE: [Insistent.] I really like girls.
MARTIN: [Oblivious.] So do I!
NARRATOR: She really likes girls.
Back to MARTIN.
He takes a seat, and swivels around in said chair, to gaze at the brick wall.
NARRATOR: Martin, at the moment, thinks his day is going very well. Unfortunately, he's about to meet -
Frame change: to EARL BROWN, a thirty-something man with unruly hair and a trenchcoat. He walks up the stairs to PANGLOSS & SONS, the frame freezes on his face.
NARRATOR: - this man.
On-screen text reads: EARL BROWN, CRIMINAL.
EARL is moving again, and suddenly shoulders into DAVID. They both stumble only slightly, but DAVID appears to be irritated over his earlier confrontation with MARTIN, and continues on without glancing back at EARL. EARL, tense a moment, hesitates, before turning and quickly heading inside the building. His hands are pocketed, and yet, both pockets seem to be filled by more than said appendages.
EARL stands in an elevator, squashed in between a very SHORT MAN with large glasses, and a TALL WOMAN who is far too high for the screen, so the shot is only able to see to her neck. EARL glances in between them, obviously catches the TALL WOMAN's eye - he smiles awkwardly and looks away again, pulling an expression of apparent worry. After an extended moment of unease, the elevator dings and EARL squeezes out, happy to escape.
EARL enters a chattering office floor, where before him spreads a sea of cubicles. The camera hangs on EARL a moment as he stands calmly, surveying the area. The camera then swings to the many employees running around.
SFX: The room is filled with constant sound; the clacking of computer keys, talking, laughing (mostly forced), photocopiers photocopying, faxes faxing, coffee machines - making ... coffee.
EARL pulls a .66 pistol from his right pocket, and holds it high into the air. He still retains an aura of utmost calm.
EARL: [Speaking calmly. He is barely audible over the tremendous noise that is the office-space.] Everybody. Hi. Hello? Get on th- everyone. I need you to get on the floor, please. [Looks desperate, as no one seems to listen.] Everybody! [Tries a little louder.] Hello! This is a robbery! I'm here to take all your- [Still, no one listens. Exasperated, finally, EARL-] Oh, for Christ sakes. [-pulls the trigger. There is an ear-shattering BANG, and the room goes silent. EARL stands still, and after a delayed moment, plaster from the ceiling that has been dislodged by the shot collapses onto him, spraying everybody, and himself, in white powder. EARL splutters, but this does not deter him. The ACCOUNTANTS all stare, absolutely silent.]
EARL: [Smiles.] Hi, everybody. My name's Earl, and I'm here to take all your money.
The ACCOUNTANTS stare.
Very brief frame change to MARTIN, who has been asleep in his chair. He snorts, jerks into a sit, and glances dazedly around. He sniffs. He is facing the brick wall, and the camera now turns around to place MARTIN in the left hand side of the screen, revealing, through the window-wall, the main office. The ACCOUNTANTS are still staring silently at EARL, who looks expectantly back at them. This is all in the background. We may also notice a MOUSEY ACCOUNTANT, frightened, and dialling his phone while he stares at EARL.
MARTIN frowns for a moment, and the audience is lead to believe he has heard the gunshot. However, he simply grunts and settles back in his chair, attempting to get to sleep once more.
Frame returns to EARL, and the silence is almost deafening. ACCOUNTANT ONE clears his throat, and glances to his colleagues. The frame freezes on EARL's face; capturing the moment when EARL realizes something has gone terribly wrong.
NARRATOR: Earl had made a mistake.
ACCOUNTANT ONE, after receiving no help from his colleagues, lifts a hesitant hand and stares once more at EARL.
ACCOUNTANT ONE: Um. I think you're - uh - we don't have any money. [Earl watches, calculating what he says, his gun still held high in the air.] We're - we're accountants. We handle money. We don't have it.
NARRATOR: Earl had been meaning to rob Manhattan's National Bank.
Backtrack. Photograph of the NATIONAL BANK.
On-screen text reads: WHERE EARL MEANT TO GO.
NARRATOR: Unfortunately, Earl had read the address incorrectly.
EARL stands squinting at a small white card. Close-up of the text on it; it appears to be the bank's calling card and has its address printed there. It reads 230 STATE STREET, MANHATTAN, IL 60442. EARL looks up, mumbles the address below his breath, and walks off screen.
NARRATOR: While the National Bank was located at 230 State Street, Pangloss & Sons was 320 State Street.
EARL stands outside Sam Chan's, now squinting at the address printed on the side of the building.
EARL: [Mumbling.] 230. - 320? [Decisively.] 320.
NARRATOR: Earl is dyslexic. It's not the best trait to have if you're a criminal.
Back to the present:
EARL slowly looks around him, stunned.
EARL: [In a murmur.] So that's why it doesn't look like a bank.