John Negated and the Place with People In It
© Matt Quarterstein 9/2/2002
(Begins in a park, a city skyline can be seen in the background. It is mid-morning. John Negated is seated on a park bench. He is a man of medium height, dressed in a tattered leather jacket, smart looking black trousers, mustard brown collared shirt, and a tie, ripped up halfway down. John is writing in a little brown book, something like a diary)
John: (to himself, writing) Dear Journal, I have decided for some reason to have some travels to travel to. I don't know where I'm going, and I don't want to, in case the weather's bad there. Yes, I hope to have some fun, and some answers to my crossword puzzle from 15 years ago I found at the local opportunity shop (gets rolled up magazine out of his pocket, shakes his head and puts it on the bench). I would be glad if you joined me... (stops writing and scratches his head, informally) I guess you'll have to, seeing as though you are my journal. I never thought of it that way. (Shuts journal and puts it in an inner jacket pocket, picks up the magazine from bench and whacks it in his other palm twice, shaking his head)
(Cut to street, lined with high rise buildings, where John is walking along, looking up in awe at the buildings around him. He stops all of a sudden, and looks at a door of one of the buildings)
John: Oh, there's the doors. I was wondering how I was going to get up there if the doors were up on the rooves.
(Camera zooms out to reveal Shirpa, a South American mountain climbing stereotype, standing next to John. Complete with a very large pack filled with mountain climbing equipment)
John: I guess I won't be needing you today, Mr Shirpa.
Shirpa: Yes, sir.
(A beach ball is thrown from the side by someone unseen to John, who catches it with gusto)
John: (hands beach ball to Shirpa) Here, have this as your cancellation fee.
Shirpa: Yes, sir (walks off, bouncing beach ball happily)
(John keeps walking until he notices a dark, grimy, alley, covered in graffitti)
John: Look at that, a shortcut! (walks into the alley)
(Cut to inside the alley, where Grime is leaning back on the wall. He is a spiky-bleach-haired, pierced, dopey looking guy, wearing a Deftones t-shirt, bright orange sports jacket, and ragged jeans. John walks in an raises his eyebrows awkwardly in greeting)
John: Hello there!
Grime: (dismissive) Hi...
John: (enthusiastic) Is this is a shortcut?
Grime: Nah, it's a dead end.
(John looks in comforting manner, to Grime. John pats him on the back reassuringly, much to Grime's disgust)
John: Don't be so hard on yourself, your as lively as anyone I've met around in this city. Speaking of which (gets out magazine) do you know the answers to the crossword from the1972 May...
Grime: (backs away from John in disgust) Are you some kind of mummy's boy or something, mate?
John: Well, of course. That's the way I was conceived, from my mother. (in shock) Oh I get the drift now. You weren't biologically born, were you. Tsk, tsk. I should have known from the mutated stuff growing from your head and all the metal restraints keeping your face together. You were spawned from a tank, weren't you?
Grime: (confused) What the f**k?
John: Oh, I'm sorry. I've offended your god somehow, I'm so sorry. I'm never good with these city customs. I thought this was a shortcut, when it is obviously a shrine to your god. What was his name? Fug? (patronizingly, but trying to be nice) Well, apologies to the great god Fug! I am sorry for um... desecrating his sanctuary. I'll be off then (bowing humbly, exiting backwards out of the alley)
Grime: What a faggot... (goes to light a cigarette)
(Thief, a dreadlocked derelict dressed in rags, armed with a knife, jumps out of the shadows and grabs Grime, knife to the throat)
Thief: (feverish) Give me your wallet, (looks down, then up again) your shoes, your jeans and your jacket.
Grime: (terrified) W...w...what about m...my sh...sh...shirt?
Thief: (squints at shirt, looking disgusted) Nah, they suck.
(Grime hands over a wallet to Thief and begins taking off his shoes)
(Cut to a coffee shop district, looking quite empty. John walks down, still in awe of everything, at sits down at one of the benches. Waitress, a black haired young woman, comes to attend him as soon as he is seated)
Waitress: May I help you?
John: Yes, you can! What kind of help do you offer?
Waitress: Well, (giggles) we serve coffee?
Waitress: You know, caffeinated beverages.
John: Oh, right. This is a poison shop! Seen quite of few of those on this street, you must have quite a vermin problem to need so much poison. I guess that's why they call the city the rat race, eh?
(John gets up, much to Waitress' surprise)
John: (puts up hand in "stop" gesture) I don't need any poison thank you, I have my cat for problems like vermin. Seeya! (walks off)
(Waitress just stands, looking confused. Grime runs past, only in his shirt and underwear. Waitress eyes follow him as he runs past)
Waitress: (to herself ) Gee, some people will do anything for promotion, I wonder how much they paid that guy to do that?
(Cut to outside a museum/arts centre sort of place. John walks on, lifts a finger to check the wind, licks his finger then walks in)
(Inside the place is an art gallery with Con, a posh looking aged man. Some classical music is playing in the background. John walks in and heads to Con, and shakes his hand)
Con: Good morning!
John: I'm John Negated.
Con: Con the connoisseur!
John: What are you doing in this place?
Con: Being the connoisseur here. You know, if you own a gallery like this one, one must always have a connoisseur. I am currently enjoying the Brahms.
John: The Brahms?
Con: Yes, (begins swaying) the music, lad. The charms of Brahms...
John: (amazed) Charming...
Con: Yes, I have Brahm's arm at home. The charming arm of Brahms.
John: (curious) After all these years? Wouldn't it of decayed?
Con: No, no, no, my friend. I had the charming arm of Brahms embalmed.
John: What colour?
Con: A calm blue. It is the calm charming embalmed arm of Brahms.
Con: It's so precious, I had to have it alarmed.
John: Alarm the calm charming embalmed arm of Brahms?
Con: Why... yes!
John: So I'll never see it...
Con: (bluntly) No.
John: Ok, there's plenty to enjoy here without having to see the alarm armed calm charming embalmed arm of Brahms. Like the paintings! See you later, Con. (walks off)
Con: (waves him off) Cheerio. (looks at camera) I'm a bit naughty, I lied. I actually only have Brahms' toe. (winks)
(Zoom out to show Brahms [the composer], limping towards Con. His right arm is missing)
Brahms: Do you think I could have it back?
(Con slaps his forehead, then shakes his head)
(Cut to John walking through through art gallery, past many weird paintings. He finally reaches a hole in the wall, where colours are floating around and making alien, sucking noises.)
John: This is what I was looking for! A hole in the time-space plane. I'll be able to cross over to some element nether world. I wonder where it will take me...
(John enters the hole and dissapears)
(Brahms run-limps on in desperation)
Brahms: Wait for me... (jumps in)
THE END (for now)
Read John Negated #2 - John Gets Sand in His Shoe
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