Hello homos n' allies! At last season's glorious end, I announced my intention to write the first episode of Season Five on this blog. This's clearly for our [our=me, you, and everyone we know] own entertainment and humility, as I suspect I.C.'s not about to call me and offer to buy it, though if she did, I think it'd change everything and possibly make up for the swift untimely death of D.Fairbanks and 65% of the other sins she's committed, including the wrong kind of Pride. Not the "GO LESBIANS!" kind, but the kind that might prevent her from hiring a writer who habitually hates on her.
They say you only hurt the ones you love.
However, since I'm very busy doing things like writing free columns for OurChart [seriously, I'm getting to it, I love you OurChart!] and posts for my other blog, I've decided to present this script in segments, otherwise I'll never do it, 'cause it'll take forever to finish the whole thing and I like smaller projects, obvs. I tend to ramble, anyhow. E.g., right now.
This isn't in correct screenplay format. Sorz. Today I present the scene that happens before the credits, which I wrote a few months ago, but it's still fresh.
FOR EPISODE 501
OF SHOWTIME'S HIT SERIES
THE L WORD.
[Picture totes stolen from OurChart.]
SHANE'S BED: AM
Shane's wakes up with a pretty girl who's staring lustfully into her eyes. Shane shoots the girl a brief dismissive smile as the girl wakes up, kisses her on the forehead swiftly. The girl reaches for her but is rebuffed as Shane exits the room.
SHANE AND JENNY'S KITCHEN: AM
SHANE walks into the kitchen in her underwear and wifebeater, starts making coffee.
[From other room]:
Where's your computer?
The girl enters, wearing Shane's Hugo Boss briefs.
Mind if I keep these?
Yeah, sure, whatever--uh--do you need a ride home or something?
Where's your computer?
Oh! Computer. No. Don't have one. I just use Jenny's, but I wouldn't uh--I wouldn't go in there if I were you.
You don't have one.
Is that why you aren't on OurChart?
Shane looks appropriately perplexed, starts putting words together--but then the doorbell rings.
Uh--lemme get that?
EXT. CHEZ SHANE/JENNY- AM
Alice is outside, impatient. She's wearing a 50s housewife dress and carrying a six-pack of beer and a large duffel bag.
Hi. Sorry it took me so long.
[Gestures "going crazy," then whispers:]
So I thought, what the hell, you know? Early bird gets the worm. I mean, we can always have these later, whatever, I'm not in a hurry.
[To herself, mostly:]
Traffic was a bitch.
Al--I uh--what are you---
I just, Shane, I don't want you turning to cocaine or to you know, a car crash of some sort, let's not get all high drama here--because Shane, I'm your friend, and I'm here for you, and we're going to work this through the healthy way. We all get broken hearts sometimes--I've been there too, as you know, that whole Dana shrine--
And the cardboard life-sized--thingie--
And the pills, "crazy radio girl," et cetera. Whatever, let bygones be bygones, we're moving on now, Shane, and we're doing it together, 'cause that's what friends are for.
Al, I'm okay--Paige was actually really cool about everything, we just talked things out and decided to put stuff on hold.
Um, okay Dr. Phil. Shane. I'm here for you.
THE GIRL enters, coquettish, drinking coffee she's poured herself.
Oh!! Well! Hellll-o there!
You're Alice, right? I'm your friend on OurChart. My name's Marigold.
Marigold? Really? Like the flower?
[Gives SHANE a 'what were you thinking?' look, SHANE shoots a Papi-shrug.]
Honey, I'm everyone's friend on Our Chart. I don't even answer my own friend requests.
[ALICE gives SHANE another look, SHANE shrugs like; I'm staying out of this one.]
Shane's not even on it.
Yeah, yeah, Shane's too fucking evolved for all of us.
Hey--Tasha's not on it--
Tasha?! I knew it! I knew it! I read about it in the Bay-Guardian!
She can read?
You're totally the Don't Ask Don't Tell Girl's Girlfriend, aren't you? I knew it! Oh my god, wait til I call--
[to SHANE, who's now cracking a beer after all,]
JENNY bursts through the door--looking tragic and damaged and wind-blown and terrible. She's followed by a similarly wrecked young pup, SOUNDER.
Oh my God, you're Jenny, thank God, can I use your computer for just a minute?
Who the hell are you? Get the fuck out of my house, you--you--tart!--Captain Ahab's got a bottle of Vicodin and seven hours to nap before a very important meeting this evening at Hadaka---
[JENNY spots the beer]
Ooo! Beer! Don't mind if I doooo--
[Exiting, to the dog:]
C'mon, Rocinante, lez go--c'mon--
--GIRL follows, hoping for a moment at the ibook, SHANE and ALICE toast--ALICE pauses, looks at her friend:
You swear? You swear you're okay? There's no Sherrie Jaffe hiding in the other room or anything?
I swear I'm okay, Al.
Hm. I'm keepin' an eye on you, though--
[ALICE makes bull/horns hand gesture.]
Ok, good. Let's talk about me now.
[Takes a seat.]
TO A SONG THAT IS NOT "THE WAY THAT WE LIVE" OR ANYTHING LIKE IT. PERHAPS SOMETHING NICE AND PLEASANT THAT DOESN'T MAKE US WANT TO KILL OURSELVES.