Savage Meaningless Sarcasm, Part 2

NOTE: If you didn't read the last installment of this 5 act screenplay, (yes, it's a 5 act screenplay--just like Shakespeare woulda writ 1--) you might wanna check it out. Even if you don't want to read it for some reason, you'll wanna catch all the disclaimers I set forth there, as they apply here as well. I'd like to throw in a new disclaimer here: I wrote this before I knew Bill O'Reilley was gonna interview Prez. Obama before the big bowl game this past Sunday. I meant no commentary on either of the B.O.'s performances during this tete-a-tete.

So w/o further ado, I bring you…

IN THE SHAFT

ACT TWO

INT. ELEVATOR CAR DAY

As before, the two men stand trapped in a halted elevator car, FOX New Celebrity BILL O'REILLY and the white male STRANGER, (whose nondescriptness approaches a preternatural BLURRINESS that might be troublingunder other circumstances). The lighting is DIM, as the car is without normal power.

O'REILLY

Well... since we're stuck together in these

unenviable circumstances, let's introduce

ourselves. I hope you'll forgive me for observing

that from the way you've been staring at me, I

believe you may know me already.

The Stranger smiles but says nothing.

O'REILLY

Oh come on now, I saw you looking at me... Much

as it pains to admit, I even thought: God I hope

this guy won’t recognize me, Bill O'Reilly, Fox

News Mega-Star.

The Stranger raises his eyebrows interrogatively.

O'REILLY

Well, I know it may sound a trifle ungrateful,

but you don't understand what it's like. I'm a

celebrity, true, and I enjoy the perks thereof.

I enjoy them with a clear conscience, as well,

since I know I've earned them. What people don’t

know—liberals, even some of my fans—is how much

work it was, not just to put on my show, but to

write my books, to make all my public

appearances, all in the name of protecting our

culture—the culture that had shaped the world.

The Stranger clears his throat and smiles some more. O'Reilly's voice has risen about 1/4 octave at this point with indignity. It levels off now, as he turns away from The Stranger and seems to speak to himself.

O'REILLY

I can almost forgive some of the liberals for

their scrutiny—their recognition of the man who

must, sadly, be their enemy. I've given up on

speculating about why it must be that way long

ago. Still, sometimes I wonder: aren’t we all

Americans? But some of my fans—lately, I'm

starting to worry they may just be...idiots...

just brainwashed by day time TV and reality

programs—that they're only responding to the

surfaces of my thoughts without considering

their depths.

Realizing he is speaking aloud, he turns to The Stranger in alarm.

O'REILLY

Wait! I didn't mean that! You're not one of my

fans are you? Because most of my fans are very

intelligent! It's just...well, I've noted this

trend among some of my newer fans that, well,

uh...

STRANGER

I’m a big fan.

O'Reilly is aghast, stumbling around, visibly trying to figure out how to save face. He smiles broadly.

O’REILLY

Well that is a pleasure and a relief! You seem

like an intelligent young man and you have the

good taste to be an O'Reilly fan!

He laughs with broad humor, but seems a bit troubled to find The Stranger only grinning.

O'REILLY

(awkwardly)

I mean... sure, a fan could do you in—sometimes

they are the biggest danger of all. But it's

comforting to know somehow that if I must be

stuck in an elevator, it's with an admirer—a fan.

An inscrutable smile lines The Stranger's nondescript features, leaving O'Reilly visibly nervous.

O'REILLY

You know, it's amusing to think that the word

fan, as some know, is derived from the term

“fanatic.” That Bill O’Reilly, "Culture Warrior"…

He says this last with ironic self-deprecation that plays more like a mincing palsy...

O'REILLY

(CONT.)

…should have fans seemed absolutely ironic, in

light of the efforts I've made to combat

extremist fanaticism and liberal hysteria.

The Stranger is now audibly SNICKERING.

O'Reilly's expression quickly mutates from pride to surprise to anger.

O'REILLY

Excuse me. Excuse me. That's very rude. Let's at

least be civilized.

He extends a hand to The Stranger, which, as he obviously expects it to be, is rejected.

O'REILLY

(voice breaking impishly)

So you're a liberalllll...

The Stranger is smiling also.

STRANGER

Maybe.

O'REILLY

(pleasantly)

Shame on you for mis-representing yourself!

He extends his hand again.

O'REILLY

Bill O'Reilly.

The Stranger still isn't having it, so O'Reilly drops his hand.

O'REILLY

And the spin stops here.

The Stranger makes a disgusted tsking sound.

STRANGER

I'll bet you say that when you're fucking.

O'Reilly blinks.

O'REILLY

Excuse me? Young man, I'll thank you to watch

that kind of language.

STRANGER

(laughing)

Fucking?

O'REILLY

That's it! I'm leaving.

Then he remembers he's on an elevator.

O'REILLY

Ah. Right. Well then, I've removed my mask.

O'Reilly makes an elaborate gesture that doesn't really look much like someone removing a mask but is almost mesmerizing in its complex ambiguity.

O'REILLY

Perhaps you would be so kind to do the same.

STRANGER

What do you mean?

O'REILLY

Who...

There is an inordinately long pause, even for the sake of Shatnerian bathetic drama... then the next two words are delivered very quickly, almost as a whisper:

O'REILLY

(CONT.)

...are you?

The Stranger might look puzzled that O'Reilly is making such a big deal out of asking him this question, but he looks even more shifty--as if he is on the verge of exposure by a crafty hunter.

STRANGER

What do you mean?

O'REILLY

Who are you?

STRANGER

I'm just some asshole. I'm no one.

O'REILLY

Afraid not, my friend. This all seems a little

too significant. And you seem a little too...

known... even if I've never seen you, you are so

nondescript and if even now, when I look at you,

you're sorta blurry.

STRANGER

I'm no one!

O'REILLY

Quoting The Odyssey won't help!

STRANGER

You've read The Odyssey?

O'REILLY

Well, no, not really, but an intern suggested I

listen to it on tape when I was taking notes to

give to the guy who ghost wrote most of the final

draft of one of those awful novels I wrote about

patriotic spies or whatever. (Who knows? I never

read 'em? Did you? I mean, even for camp value,

it just seems like too much work.) I thought--

well, the intern thought--hey, you know, spies

usually have something to do w/ nations being at

war in some form or other--like, you know at

least in a state of detente or something. And I

guess The Odyssey has something to do with war,

though I guess the war's over in it, whatever war

was going on whenever it was set. Well, anyway,

I fast forwarded through most of it--yeah, I

still had a tape deck back then--and it was just

so boring, but I got to this really very amusing

moment where the hero--one of those Greek names,

I think it was Euripides--gets stuck on an island

with some giants that eat people. He escapes and

blinds the king of the giants, and the giant

says, "Who did this to me?" And Euripides says,

"My name is No One. No One did this to you." Or

something like that. A fine metaphor for big

government spending.

O'Reilly chortles. The Stranger looks confused. And bored. And annoyed. And sleepy.

O'REILLY

No, my friend, you're no Euripides. So the question

remains: who are you?

STRANGER

I am Nobody. And I'm not quoting the Jim Jarmusch

movie either.

O'Reilly looks completely confused. He is trying to phonetically sound out "Jim Jarmusch," but can't pull it off.

O'REILLY

What?

STRANGER

He's a director.

O'Reilly nods uncertainly.

O'REILLY

Oh.

O'Reilly snaps his fingers.

O'REILLY

Wait! Director! That gives me an idea! Here's

another movie character you're not!

He opens an emergency panel on one of the elevator's walls. From it, he pulls a tangled BLACK WIG and a BLUE NIGHTGOWN. He throws these at The Stranger.

O'REILLY

Your size! Here! Put these on!

The Stranger looks confused, but shrugs and obeys.

O'REILLY

Now, roll around on the floor. When I say, who

are you, say, 'I am no one,' in a high-pitched

voice, OK?

The Stranger shrugs, nods.

STRANGER

Sure, why not?

O'REILLY

Good. Here goes. Who are you?

As The Stranger replies, O'Reilly simultaneously speaks in a LOW GUTTURAL VOICE.

STRANGER

I am no one.

O'REILLY

Eno on ma i.

The Stranger sits up and looks at O'Reilly with irritation, but also with some fear, as if it's dawned on him that the man may be not only just as dumb as he sometimes appears on TV, which would be reassuring, but unfortunately, more irrational, which would be alarming.

O'REILLY

(merrily)

Great movie! C'mon!!!

Seeing that The Stranger still isn't getting it, he obligingly PUKES on him in a projectile manner.

O'REILLY

The Exorcist!

A disgusted Stranger mops puke off of himself with his discarded Linda Blair gown.

O'REILLY

Aw, c'mon! Wait! I got another one! You know how

Brundlefly eats?

The Stranger shakes his head, bemused.

O'Reilly sends another bolt of VOMIT toward him, then slurps most of it back up.

O'REILLY

The Fly! Gina Davis is hot-t-t-t-t!!!

JUMP CUT

OVEREXPOSED - WHITE LIGHT

SHRIEKING BACKGROUND NOISE

O'Reilly and The Stranger are screaming and wallowing in filth again.

STRANGER

That didn't really happen! That didn't really

happen!

O'REILLY

God please! It's really out of character!

JUMP CUT

NORMAL LIGHTING

NORMAL SOUND

Both O'Reilly and The Stranger are standing as they were before, as if, indeed, none of the events regarding The Fly or The Exorcist actually occurred.

However, neither looks comforted by this resumption of "reality." They stare at each other.

BOTH

(in unison)

I've got to get out of here!

They turn and break for the control panel. Each grasps the emergency handset, and after a brief, but intense struggle O'Reilly comes up holding the prize.

O'REILLY

(into the phone)

Help! We're stuck! We need some help!

The Stranger has fallen into a sitting posture. Despite the recent conflict, he looks at O'Reilly hopefully, but is disappointed to see Bill shake his head and let the instrument dangle limply by its cable from his index finger for a moment. O'Reilly hangs up.

He looks at The Stranger for a long silent moment before offering him his hand.

O'REILLY

Very sorry about losing my cool there. Guess

we're both a little tense.

The Stranger does not accept O'Reilly's hand, but he does rise.

STRANGER

Whatever.

O'Reilly is irritated with The Stranger's refusal to bury the hatchet.

O'REILLY

You know, it's exactly this sort of

vindictiveness that keeps this country from

getting out of the mess it's in right now?

The Stranger coughs noncommittally. His nondescript features form an indeterminate, but irritable expression.

O'REILLY

It's what keeps this country from being truly

united states. Well... we're stuck...

He gestures at the control panel with exasperation.

O'REILLY

(CONT.)

...for god knows how long. Someone will lose his

job over this, I can tell you that.

Then his expression softens, becoming almost impish.

O'REILLY

But since we are stuck together, and you wouldn't

let me help you up, will you now at least finally

reveal your identity?

STRANGER

I'm not going to tell you anything because you're

an asshole.

Something in The Stranger's inflections seems to affect O'Reilly. He appears amused and disdainful, as he dons one of his best penetrating grins—one that might easily cow Al Franken.

O'REILLY

Sir, may I be so bold as to ask if you are a

homosexual?

The Stranger is surprised, a bit angry, but quickly recovers his poise. The Stranger stares at O'Reilly.

STRANGER

Yes, I'm gay. What business is it of yours?

O'REILLY

Oh, oh... None at all. I believe all Americans

should be free to pursue happiness however he or

she chooses--even if some choose to do so outside

of norms that I think most Americans would be

comfortable with. So long as in those cases, I do

think it might be more respectful for those

choosing...

He pauses, selecting his words carefully, as he does when handling serious issues before a large, sensitive audience.

O'REILLY

(CONT.)

...alternative paths to do so in private... But

that's just my opinion.

He lowers his voice dramatically, (which has the effect of making you realize just how much it's risen during this bit of punditry).

O'REILLY

And so I know something so personal about you...

according to my estimation... maybe to your own,

it really isn't, but I think you need only

consider the ongoing debate over "don't ask don't

tell" policies in our military services to see

where the opinions of most Americans lie. I know

this about you, and yet you won't tell me your

name. I'm left to wonder: just what is it you

feel that you have to hide.

STRANGER

Bill...

O'REILLY

There! You see? You know who I am? By Christian

name even. Do I object to that? Of course not!

STRANGER

You're famous.

O'REILLY

Of course not!

STRANGER

Everyone knows your name.

O'REILLY

All I'm saying is that you have me at a

disadvantage. Come on now. I am famous. Your name

is just a name. Why are you being so difficult

about it? Is it really embarrassing? Like Andy

Dick? He's gay, isn't he?

STRANGER

Uh, I heard not, but then... well, I hope that's

true actually. OK, Bill, actually, I am sort of

famous. I'm nationally syndicated sex advisor Dan

Savage. My column Savage Love has been running in

print (and no doubt online 'tho I'm not sure)

publications for a while now (can't say how long

for some reason). It's pretty graphic by a lotta

people's standards cuz I talk upfront about

things like anal sex and vaginal contractions

and how to achieve/exploit/whatever them, and my

readers come up with funny signatures, the

initials of which spell out naughty words like

ENEMA. And I'm from Chicago, and I like long

walks in the park. Well that last part may not be

true. I mean the park stuff. I am really from

Chicago, apparently.

O'Reilly is staring blankly at the wall.

SAVAGE

Bill? Are you OK?

O'REILLY

ENEMA? Vaginal contraction?

SAVAGE

Yeah, Bill. Jesus. That bothers you? I mean,

didn't you, like, sexually harass some intern's

answering machine?

O'REILLY

I've got to get out of here.

He moves to the control panel and checks the handset. He hangs up.

O'REILLY

(hopelessly)

Still dead.

SAVAGE

You've never heard of my column?

O'REILLY

No. And I don't want to talk about it.

SAVAGE

Bill...

O'REILLY

Whatever! I said I don't want to talk about it!