MPW Ringfinger Excerpt


Ringfinger:

Feature Film Comedy
               INT. EAST STE. CATHERINES ST: LE CLUB DANSE TABOO - EARLY MORNING
             
TIM EVANGELISTA seeks the hungriest pair of eyes along the
front row of tables. Red, blue, lurid green light plays on
Tim's tight white jeans, sculpts the curve of his back, waist
and buttocks. He unbuttons his fly, peals the jeans down his
thighs. Snug, white briefs obscure the details but not the
facts; Tim Evangelista is a work of art. He works the crowd
by working one man — a dishevelled young  AMERICAN BUSINESS
MAN, drunk as a pig, flashing a wad of U. S. fifty dollar bills.



               INT. GEORGE AND MELISSA'S BEDROOM - EARLY MORNING

               GEORGE PARADISES and MELISSA GLASS, both in their late
               twenties, sleep in a tangle of limbs and sheets, their mouths
               and nostrils centimeters apart. They breathe each other in.
               Peace and contentment infuse their dreams. Love hovers.


               INT. LE CLUB DANSE EROTIQUE TABOO - EARLY MORNING
               The DRUNK AMERICAN wavers, tilts, rights himself, mumbles.

                                   TIM
                         I'm sorry. I didn't quite...

                                   DRUNK AMERICAN
                         I wanna shee... ah, yer...

                                   TIM
                         You're in the wrong hole for a she,
                         man.

                                   DRUNK AMERICAN
                         I'm wrong... where..?

                                   TIM
                         Pretty much ever where. But let's
                         not get political.

               The Yank grabs a handful of Tim's privates.

                                   TIM (cont'd)
                         Jesus! You want us both arrested?

                                   DRUNK AMERICAN
                         I'm from Ohio, man. I can't get
                         arrested in Canada.

                                   TIM
                         Oh?

                                   DRUNK AMERICAN
                         Mary Jo would kill me.

                                   TIM
                         Your Ohio wife got a pair of these?  

               The Yank opens his mouth wide, moves to gobble Tim's groin.

                                   TIM (cont'd)
                         Whoah! Look, sniff, tell my boys
                         your troubles. But don't touch.

                                   DRUNK AMERICAN
                         Whoah! Whatever you say, Canada.
                         Canada's so fuckin' cute.

               The Yank throws a fifty on the table.

                                   DRUNK AMERICAN (cont'd)
                         Show me yer butt.

                                   TIM
                         Young, handsome, rich – American.
                         Can buy anything you want. Right?

                                   DRUNK AMERICAN
                         'Zactly.

                                   TIM
                         What the hell. It's my last night.

               Tim turns on the stool, bends, spreads his cheeks.

                                   TIM (cont'd)
                         Go ahead. Kiss my Canadian ass.

               Tim is shocked that the Yank actually does.


               INT. TIM AND ALEX' BEDROOM - MORNING

               ALEX BEAUCHEMIN springs naked from a double bed, throws open
               curtains to the dawn. The gentle wash of amber light is kind
               to his large, handsome head. Alex vibrates with extreme
               energy. We get the sense that if he relaxes, he'll explode.
               He turns from the window, retrieves a cello from the closet.
               Seated on the side of the bed, still naked, with passion and
               technical brilliance Alex plays J. S. Bach's Partita #2,
               transcribed for cello.


               INT. LE CLUB DANSE EROTIQUE TABOO 'FLUFF ROOM' - MORNING

               TIM washes his feet, taking particular care to clean between
               his toes. He removes a photo from the wall; two handsome men,
               Tim and Alex Beauchemin, in tuxedos. He closes his eyes,
               caresses his chest, his thighs, his toes. He dons fresh
               socks, packs the used pair in his k'sack.


               INT. TIM AND ALEX'S BEDROOM - MORNING

               ALEX looks at the cello as though he has never seen it before
               in his life.

                                   ALEX
                         Fuck that noise.

               He stashes the cello in the closet, assumes the opening
               position of the Sun Salutation, raises his arms in temple,
               arches back. Low bend forward. Downward dog. Upward dog.
               CLOSE on his face. Ecstacy.

               INT.    THE KITCHEN, ALEX AND TIM'S ST. HUBERT FLAT - MORNING

               ALEX prepares breakfast. He wears a white shirt and tie,
               socks, slippers and underwear; the pants and jacket are
               fastidiously draped on a chair. TIM arrives, dumps his gear.

                                   ALEX
                         Hard night at the strip mine?

                                   TIM
                         Long and hard and never again.   

               Tim flashes the wad of US bills.

                                   TIM (cont'd)
                         I've waggled my ass in public for
                         the last time.
                             (offers lips)
                         You okay?

                                   ALEX
                             (light kiss)
                         I'm good. I'm late.

               Tim embraces ALEX.

                                   TIM
                         How late?

               Alex hesitates, gently disentangles himself.

                                   ALEX
                         Late. Coffee's ready.

               Tim – still in dance mode – flows like liquid, from coffee
               pot to sink, from counter to table, circling back, brushing
               past Alex, finding every opportunity to touch. Alex moves
               deliberately, fridge to stove to cupboards to table. A wash
               of morning sun floods the kitchen. They pause; eyes meet,
               arms slip around waists, lips part.

                                   TIM
                         Very late?

                                   ALEX
                         A little late.

               They sit, bow their heads. Tim takes Alex's hand.

                                   TIM
                         Thank you Lord for this beautiful
                         day, for this wad of bills, for
                         this fabulous man for whom I draw
                         every breath.

               Tim fingers Alex's wedding band.

                                   TIM (cont'd)
                         Thank you for allowing us to
                         sanctify our love in your gracious
                         presence,  in the company of our
                         friends. Strengthen us. Open our
                         hearts and help us share our
                         bounty. Prepare us to become worthy
                         parents —

               Toast pops.

                                   TIM (cont'd)
                         - in the name of the Father, the
                         Son...

               Alex withdraws his hand, butters the toast.

                                   ALEX
                         ... and the buttered toast. Jeeze,
                         Tim. I hate it when you lobby God
                         at breakfast.

                                   TIM
                         What better time? Would it kill you
                         if we just spoke to her?

                                   ALEX
                         She's so... I'm too... I don't
                         know...

                                   TIM
                         This is a win win win idea. It's
                         perfect for all of us.

                                   ALEX
                         God help me. I've married Brother
                         Theresa.

               Tim cocks his ear to sounds from the flat above.


               EXT.     THE STE. HUBERT APARTMENT BUILDING - MORNING

               CRANE UP from Alex and Tim's window; the camera seeks the
               source of early morning sounds of love. After a few lurking,
               accidental,'peeping tom' moments, PEER IN George and
               Melissa's bedroom window.


               INT.    GEORGE AND MELISSA'S BEDROOM - MORNING

               GEORGE and MELISSA – he handsome, she beautiful, both in
               their early twenties – make love. Both are loud sex talkers.

                                   GEORGE
                         Yes, Baby. No, Baby? Yes? No?

                                   MELISSA
                         Yes. No. Not yet. Not here. Over
                         there. On the dresser.

               They struggle from the tangled sheets, fall en route to the
               dresser. Laughter. Melissa pulls George to his feet,
               positions herself, centered in the dressers three mirrors.
               George clears a lamp, which crashes and shatters.

                                   MELISSA (cont'd)
                         Oops! I always hated that lamp.

                                   GEORGE
                         Comfortable?

               MELISSA squirms. She raises one cheek, extracts a hair brush,
               tosses it.

                                   MELISSA
                         Get a good grip baby.


               INT.    ALEX AND TIM'S KITCHEN - MORNING

               ALEX and TIM try to ignore the titillating ruckus above. Alex
               looks at Tim. Tim looks at Alex.

                                   TIM
                         You're... how late?

                                   ALEX
                             (Checks watch)
                         Late. I'm late.

               They refocus, concentrate on food.


               INT.    GEORGE AND MELISSA'S BEDROOM - MORNING

                                   GEORGE
                             (loud, getting louder)
                         Ho God. Ho-o-o.  Gaw-aw-aw. Sweet
                         side windin' back tacklin'  sacred
                         heart of the Holy Blessed Virg—

                                   MELISSA
                             (loud, gets louder)
                         Baby. Baby? Yes. Baby! B-a-a-a...
                         Oh, G-A-A-A-A-WD... Baby? Yes!
                         Baby! BABY!?! Yes! Yes! Yes!!!


               INT.    ALEX AND TIM'S KITCHEN  -  MORNING

               TIM eyes ALEX.

                                   TIM
                         If they don't quit, I'll be on you
                         like a duck on a June bug.

                                   ALEX
                         Should I be flattered or crawl
                         under a leaf?


               INT.    GEORGE AND MELISSA'S BEDROOM - MORNING

               In the three-sided mirror, the dresser thumping the wall,
               several MELISSAS climax. A SERIES OF JUMP CUTS heighten and
               extend the moment.


               INT.     ALEX AND TIM'S KITCHEN - MORNING

               The light fixture suspended over the kitchen table quivers.
               ALEX and TIM glance at it, each other, it, their food, each
               other.


               INT.    GEORGE AND MELISSA'S BEDROOM - MORNING

               Now GEORGE'S ecstasy is tripled, reflected three ways. The
               dresser moves in small rhythmic jumps across the floor,
               forcing George to hop and hump on tip toes. MELISSA hangs on.
               The dresser bumps its way out the door, into the hall. George
               climaxes; a wildly athletic, silent, vein popping, cross-eyed
               grimace. The dresser pounds the hallway wall.


               INT.    ALEX AND TIM'S KITCHEN - MORNING

               The light fixture begins to swing. When ALEX rises to steady
               it, TIM caresses his inner thigh.

                                   ALEX
                         No... Oh, God... I'm late, Tim.  

                                   TIM
                         You don't know what it's like. All
                         those eyes. Wanting me. Me wanting
                         you. Only you. My man. My handsome,
                         weird, incredible man...

                                   ALEX
                         What the hell... I got sick days.

               Before they know what's hit them, TIM is on Alex like a duck
               on a June bug.


               INT.    GEORGE AND MELISSA'S BEDROOM - MORNING

               GEORGE and MELISSA stare as if they'd just met; they can't
               believe what just happened to them. They search each other's
               eyes for the source. Gentle kisses. Love hovers.


               INT.    ALEX AND TIM'S KITCHEN - MORNING

               TIM, athletic and tender, scoops ALEX into his arms, carries
               him toward the sink. Alex shudders when his bare ass hits the
               cold marble counter top; TIM'S head disappears below frame.

                                   ALEX
                         Oh, shit Tim. Not the wind mill!

               ANGLE ON ALEX: he experiences the wind mill, groans his
               approval.


               INT.    GEORGE AND MELISSA'S BEDROOM - MORNING

               MELISSA and GEORGE sit on the dresser and smoke.

                                   MELISSA
                         I love being twenty three. Every
                         thing is perfect.

                                   GEORGE
                         It could be. If I wasn't shooting
                         blanks.

                                   MELISSA
                         Baby! Wild sex with built-in birth
                         control? I've got the best husband
                         in the world. Did you speak to
                         Mickey. Honey?

                                   GEORGE
                         He doesn't do adoptions.

                                   MELISSA
                         He could recommend someone.

                                   GEORGE
                         I wouldn't be comfortable raising
                         someone else's mistake.

                                   MELISSA
                         George!

                                   GEORGE
                         Shhh... Listen.

               From downstairs, the unrestrained sounds of man to man sex.

                                   GEORGE (cont'd)
                         Oh God. There they go.

                                   MELISSA
                         Do you sense a pattern here?

                                   GEORGE
                         Yeah. Like we're their warm up act.

               George heads for the shower.


               INT.    THE KITCHEN, ALEX AND TIM'S FLAT - MORNING

               CLOSE on TIM, face down on the floor, head and shoulders
               under the table. He gimaces, bites a napkin, fights the urge
               to moan. He fails. WIDE ANGLE reveals ALEX seated on Tim's
               buttocks, facing Tim's feet, one of which he licks and nib
               bles, sucks and chews, gnaws slowly and thoroughly from sole
               to heel. Tim writhes with pleasure. When Alex engulfs all
               five toes, Tim almost goes unconscious. Instead, he emits a
               magnificent moan.


               INT.    GEORGE AND MELISSA'S BATHROOM  - MORNING

               In the shower, GEORGE tests the water. MELISSA enters with
               fresh towels.

                                   MELISSA
                         Fresh towels Baby.

                                   GEORGE
                         Sorry, honey. I can't hear you.
                             (To himself, relieved)
                         Or those cock sucking cowboys
                         downstairs.

               Melissa steps into the shower, hears his last remark.

                                   MELISSA
                         I thought you were beyond all that.

                                   GEORGE
                         I don't get what they do. I don't
                         like what they do —

                                   MELISSA
                         But you'd defend to the death their
                         right to do it, right. Right?

                                   GEORGE
                         Yeah. (Beat) Yes. I would. Do my
                         back, will you?

               Melissa disappears out of frame. She does his front instead.


               INT.    THE KITCHEN, ALEX AND TIM'S ST. HUBERT FLAT - MORNING

               Slow, intense, rhythmic frottage builds to le moment cri
               tique. Time is suspended.
               Under the table, face to face, lost in each other, ALEX and
               TIM climax, quietly, serenely, precisely together. They
               search each other's eyes for the source of this great
               mystery. Love hovers...




MPW Ringfinger Excerpt