Flying Below Radar
AKA: THE GREAT ENORMO RACE (REST STOP 7B)
Where the oddities escalate, and more dialogue. Lot of dialogue.
Part 2: Later on: Near closing time
Casey: I cannot believe how dark it’s getting. Damn daylight saving time robs us of the evening.
Monk: I think that s**t’s just there for people who wake up early, you know, work by 7 kind of thing. So they don’t drive to work in the darkness.
Casey: Yea I did that for a while, but it still sucked getting home at five thirty and the sun was down. I was OK waking up pre-dawn, well as OK as you can be with that kind of thing. I mean 5am is 5am whether there’s daylight or not.
Monk: You want a ride home. After this morning you might not want to take chances.
Casey: It ain’t that far away. But thanks. I’ll hoof it.
Monk: Remember, tomorrow’s payday.
Casey: So I’ll expect to see Sid around noon.
Monk: Yea, he’ll walk in (imitating) “Hey, Monk, my man.” Stop by; throw my check on the counter. “Here’s your check. You look out for me I look out for you. Atta boy, Monk.” Then he’ll get a pretzel and a Root Beer from you, disappear into that record store for an hour, and then he’s gone for another two weeks.
Casey: Don’t make like he’s the only man of routine around here. (Begins to leave) Your routine is charting his routine.
She leaves the building. As she exits, the camera shows the stark change in environment. From the electric glow of the mall to a very dark parking lot. Some leaves blowing, she puts a light, autumnal jacket on. The parking lot is nearly empty, but there is also very little in the way of lighting where she exits. She begins to walk along the building, then down a dark alleyway between the mall and other shops.
The wind picks up, she bundles up, hears a random noise behind her. Reacts to the sound with an initial start, but shakes it off and head down, continues. A few feet along there is the distinct sound of footsteps behind her, she hears them but doesn’t turn, just hurries her pace.
Casey: (To herself) All right, girl, here’s your choice we gonna stay normal, we gonna run, or we gonna turn. Normal, run, turn. Normal, run turn.
The noise increases, more feet, camera shows shadows approaching her. She begins to run- the noise behind her picks up; she turns the corner at the end of the alley, and hops up on a small ledge. A few moments pass, there’s quiet and then two kids walk briskly past her, they look young, 16-ish, she gets renewed confidence. As thy turn the corner they stop and look around. She mutters (“kids”) derisively under her breath and lets go with a leg kick to the kids face. It lands squarely and he drops with a yelp and a thud. The other kid instinctively jumps and backs up.
Casey: OK, kids, what’s with it? You trying to pick me up or mug me.
Kid1: (Standing) Oh, s**t, you split Hank’s head open.
He goes over to his friend on the ground, not much blood just a welt over the eye, he’s sitting up holding his eye. Looks back up at her.
Kid1: S**t lady, what the f**k did you do that for?
Casey: (She hops down off the ledge) It’s not nice to follow young women down dark alleyways, boys. Somebody’s liable to get hurt.
Kid2: Damn, crazy woman, we weren’t following you. There were some other dudes catching up to you, we were just walking behind them.
Casey: Other dudes? Where’d they do?
Kid1: I don’t know, what do we look like, Crockett and Tubbs? They weren’t leaving a trail of crumbs.
Casey: (Concerned) These guys just disappeared?
Friend gets up holding his eye, kid puts arm around him.
Kid1: Listen lady; just leave us alone, OK?
They walk off across the street and down towards the convenience store. She leans against the building and watches them walk away. She then looks back to the alley, and appears nervous and apprehensive again. She looks to the direction she was heading, it’s a dark back road, tree lined, she looks across the street the store, a block away, is the only lit item in the area. The street is dark. She goes to the alley and looks back down. She looks around a couple of times and decides to return down the alleyway.
A few feet down she sees a door facing her that is ajar, fearless she opens it and it is a small 2x2 vestibule, empty. She continues walking down the alley, cautiously; she is hiding in the shadows along the wall. Walking quietly. As she approaches the end of the alleyway, she starts to peer out into the mall parking area. As she gets close to it she is about to walk out hen she hears voices, looking out she can see three men standing next to a van, they are behind the van out of sight to anyone walking by except for her in the alley. One guy, Gary, is the driver; he is the oldest in the group. Another guy, Chuck, has a body-builder physique and looks to be the toughest of the group. The third is a young guy, Smokey, who is, befitting, chain smoking. They are smoking, they appear to be on a stakeout, as they are glancing out every few seconds, they also look in the direction of the alley but due to the shadows they cannot see her, she crouches down and gets into a position where she can clearly hear them.
Gary: Don’t know why Smokey is even bothering; he’s got this thing wrapped up even if he doesn’t finish this leg.
Chuck: Yea but the Enormo ain’t about finishing second and winning the whole thing. This ain’t the f**king Tour de France. You got somebody down you pounce. No sympathy.
Gary: I’m not asking for sympathy, I’m asking for strategy, We got this thing wrapped even without the pretzel girl and her arcade buddy. So why go to all the trouble?
Smokey: Trouble would be if Dogal were to get them first.
Gary: I don’t think he’s your main threat. If The Sheik takes a run at them, he could get by on points if everything breaks right.
Chuck: (Looks around) Damn s**t hole New Jersey. This is the worst place in the world to hold a leg of this thing. Race is better without this whole state, if you asked me. (Pause) How long we gonna wait for this dude?
Smokey: Can’t be much longer, pretzel girl finished up a while ago.
Chuck: Yea, that was before you let her go, right? We stuck to the plan; she just managed to get away.
Chuck: I don’t think “Hey, grab her” is our finest thought-out plan.
Smokey: What could we do? Romance don’t work on this pair, I figured lets try a different path.
Gary: We got one more day to make this thing happen; girl gets away, that’s fine, the guy’s worth more.
Break for a few moments as they stand in the silence.
Chuck: You think we’re the only ones here, aside from The Reich Boys over there...
He motions to a VW Wagon parked on the other end of the parking lot, imperceptible at first there is a faint hint of shadow movement coming from the van.
Gary: I wouldn’t doubt if Dogal’s got some guys here, I’m sure they’re spying from the inside and are gonna make a push when they get signal that he’s leaving.
Smokey: I saw T inside with them earlier; guess it helps if you have that home field advantage.
They then see the door start to open, a bit at first and then all at once, they crouch at the movement, but see that it is Bubba. He looks around sees their van, smiles and starts to run down the street. He passes the van without pausing he yells out (“good evening ladies”) and continues to run, then heads down the alley, Casey crouches closer in the corner, but he does not see her as he jogs by and disappears out the other end of the alleyway.
(A sense of brief time passing)
Gary: F**king a-hole. That guy’s the biggest problem with this whole thing. Guy makes his own rules. He’s dangerous. (As the wind howls, he curls up his jacket) F**king Jersey. I can’t wait to get back out to Minnesota.
Chuck: Winter’s coming, I’m looking forward to Texas.
Gary: F**k that, I wanna get this stage done, Where’s the drop tonight?
Chuck: Down in Marlton, at the Church Street drop, we can hit the KFC there, too, for some food.
Gary: Oh, for the days when the Enormo Race meant a kick-ass Barbeque in some back yard lot, with live bands, it was a real underground party.
Chuck: Yea, I’m sure we all long for the good ol’ days of your cannonball run. But it’s so much better now, with the Internet, and the ongoing stages...
The door swings open and out walks Monk. He’s walking carelessly, a soda in his hand and not really checking out his environment, no fears no worries.
Chuck: (Whispers) What’s the move?
Gary: Lie back; let him come to us, if somebody else makes a move on him then we move in.
Third guy appears from van
Smokey: OK, I’m ready. Smokey is no longer dressed in the faux cowboy duds of the other three, he is now dressed like any anonymous twenty-something. Jeans, sneakers, baseball hat, he’s got a beer in his hand.
Chuck: You think Reich’s gonna make a move?
Gary: Not on us, they’d have done it already.
Monk approaches the van, Casey is deciding what action to take, she looks around and spots a couple beer bottles on the ground, she picks one up, she looks back out to Monk and the Van guys when a bright light shoots across her from behind, a car enters the alley way but shuts off it’s light s as soon as it enters, it is slowly crawling up the alley. Without lights she remains hidden.
Casey: (Quietly) Oh s**t, oh, s**t. The car continues along, silently the VW wagon has started its engine; it’s too far across the parking lot for Monk to notice anything.
Gary: (To Smokey) Keep it cool Smoke; remember we still have tomorrow, too.
Smokey walks out from behind the van and starts stumbling he’s about twenty feet in front of Monk who sees him and is startled at first but seeing no danger in the situation proceeds towards him. The guy is stumbling with an open beer can in one hand and five unopened ones on a six pack plastic holder dangling from his other hand. He looks at Monk, peers and tumbles some more. They are now a few feet apart. He sees Monk again, and breaks into a big smile.
Smokey: Dude, dude, am I so glad to see somebody. (He pats Monk on the shoulder)
Monk: You seem to have wandered out of the party.
Smokey: (Laughing an exaggerated inebriated laugh.) No, no, man, that’s not it. I just HAD to get out of that house, had to (begins to sob) I drove my van here, but I don’t know where here is...
Monk: (Begins to walk past him, dismissive) Well, if you’re like all the others that I’ve seen stumbling on this sidewalk, you’ll be fine pal.
Smokey: No, this won’t ever be fine. (As Monk is passing by him, he reaches out for his arm) She died!
Monk: (Turns curiously back to him) Who died?
Smokey: (Staggered, cries out) My mom, man. Just like that, (fails a couple times to snap his fingers) I dunno, what am I gonna do? I started driving, you know I just got in the car and left, and now my family needs me and I ain’t there. (Re-emphasizes) I ain’t there, man. I don’t know where I am.
Monk: (Now concerned) I’m sorry, man. Where you live? Let’s try to get you home.
Smokey: (Confused, drunken) In Marlton. I can drive the van (he nearly falls over) no biggie. Just point me and I’ll find it.
Monk: I can help you back, man; you need the help, man. That’s what it’s all about.
Smokey: (Sloppily, but with sincerity) My brother, thank you.
They walk towards the van. Gary and Chuck are hidden in the back of the van. Casey reaches a point of panic seeing Monk go towards the van. The car in the alleyway begins to inch up the exit to the alley. The windows are open; it moves along silently, they don’t notice her.
Passenger: (Quietly to Driver) Look, ol’ Smoke’s doing the bag-a-drunk bit.
Driver: Good to see that the classics never go out of style.
Passenger: OK, let’s let Smoke bag him, so long as those guys snag the kid, I’m OK. If you ask me, it’ll take more than rum and a rub to get him to give up the cherry, though.
Casey: (Whispered/crouching) F**k. F**k. F**k.
Monk and Smokey are standing by the passenger door, the VW Wagon has rolled a few feet silently during all of this, and now she realizes that the car next to her is not going to do anything about it. Casey grabs a hold of the beer bottle and looks up over the car. She backs up a couple feet behind the car and out of sight, lofts it into the air, and very high up the bottle goes twirling end over end. While it’s in mid air she throws another one, more direct, towards the van. The flight of the bottle is followed down as it crashed down on the windshield of the car; the other bottle hits behind the van an instant later. In the car the passenger lets out an expletive. The driver instinctively hits the gas, the car lurches out of the alley; at the van the guys in the back see this and perk their heads out.
Smokey: (In a completely sober and slight Texan voice) What the hell was that?
Chuck pops out of the van with a weapon.
Chuck: We got your cover.
Gary hops the seats and jumps in the driver seat.
Monk: (Pulling back) What is all of this?
He looks around nervously, begins to edge back, about to run. The VW Lights go on and the van starts towards them, as it approaches, Casey looks back down the alley, but sees another car waiting at the back of the alley. She crosses over behind the car with the bottle on the hood and begins to walk down the far end of the shopping center.
The Van begins to approach, Monk is walking away.
Gary: (Notices Monk) Will you get him?
Smokey turns around and Monk begins to run away and passes in front of the sedan. The sedan hits the lights and nudges out into Monk; he is grazed by the car and rolls to the driver side, virtually unscathed. The van, seeing the sedan, speeds up and approaches.
Sedan Driver: Aw s**t, it’s The Sheik’s boys
The sedan tries to reverse but the alley is too small, it pokes out, which prevents the van guys from crossing over to Monk.
Casey runs to her car, fumbled for the keys and opens the lock. She starts the engine and sees Monk headed in her direction. Behind her the van is being pursued by the VW. The sedan makes U-turn and heads back towards them.
Casey: (Flashes headlights) Monk! Monk! Get in!
Monk sees her car and heads without hesitation towards her. She opens the passenger door he jumps in and she peels out. Towards the alleyway she narrowly avoids the sedan that is headed in the wrong direction. As she guns the car down the alley, the sedan effectively blocks both vans. She makes a turn at the end of the alley and heads off down the road.
A momentary passage in time, and it appears they are in the clear. View from the rear view mirror shows nothing approaching their car. Nervous, Casey continues the speed, and Monk, very worried continues to check the rear view.
Monk: You got any beer?
Casey: I think I got an old six in the back seat.
He looks back, digs through a mess, and finds a loose can of beer. He opens it and pounds it.
Monk: What the f**k was that back there?
Casey: Monk, I’m not sure. Something that is less than desirable is flying around, and it seems that somehow or another we stumbled into the middle of it.
Monk: I was just leaving, and then this guy...(he is abrupt as he tries in vain to explain what had just transpired)
Casey: I know, I know, Monk. I was watching it. From the alley. Some guys were chasing me, and I hid there. Then they were setting up to, don’t know, I guess kidnap you.
Monk: I don’t think they were after me. I figured I just walked into the wrong place at the wrong time.
Casey: (Waves it off- also has slowed the car down, lots of back roads) No, no. They were specifically looking for you. I heard the. One of the guys wanted both of us. Well, either or, I guess, not really sure.
Monk: (Surprised) Are you kidding me? They wanted us? I figured it was that usual random s**t that passes for a late night around here....
Casey: They wanted us. Guy said something about the girl at the pretzel stand and the arcade guy. That’s us. Definitely.
Monk: Well who? Why? Just don’t get this s**t.
Casey: I don’t know, Monk. (He reaches back, scours for another beer. Finds one and begins drinking) They were saying something about getting you...I don’t know what. Wait wait wait. I remember, I wanted to tell you, one of the guys mentioned Enormo again. Enormo.
(Monk looks over at her quizzically)
Casey: You remember? The weird bike kid from this morning, they called him Enormo.
Monk: (Still scared, not thinking clearly) I guess.
Casey: This dirt bike kid comes in, hits on me....
Monk: ...Naturally....
Casey: ...And this other person called him Enormo.
Monk: Nice. What was going on? Big package?
Casey:(Laughs) yea, that’s what I said. But he seemed p*ssed by it. Said don’t call him that.
Monk: S**t, maybe he was upset you shot him down.
Casey: Well I didn’t exactly shoot him down, as a matter of fact check my bag, got his address in there.
Monk: What’s his name?
Casey: Umm, I didn’t get that.
Monk: Address....Enormo.... (Pauses) And no name? You must be a lot of fun....
Casey: Quick, where’s he live?
Monk rummages; maybe a visual or two around what he finds. Gets the address. Yea, that’s it.
Monk: Centre Lane in Marlton.
Casey: Marlton? That’s where those guys in the car are going. Said something about a KFC on Church Street.
Monk: Know it well. Practically first-name basis. Wanna check it out?
Casey: Not really, but I was hoping you would offer. I think we need to know what’s going on here.
Monk: And I could go for some extra crispy.
Casey: A “win-win”?
Monk: The way I like it.
Fade as they drive. Fade in on them standing next to the parked car on a quiet street. There are several cars in a driveway at a house a few houses away. Some vans. Nothing immediately recognizable. They’re looking off to the house:
Casey: Don’t recognize the cars, but I think that’s the house number.
Monk: Well, I may be crazy but that one car on the lawn looks like T’s.
Casey: That’s something.
Casey waves him forward as they sneak around to the side of the house.
Monk: Look we can sneak into that cellar door.
Casey: Damn a couple of beers and you’re practically Rambo. Why don’t we just try to avoid walking into the house of people who seem to want to do something undesirable to us?
Monk: Live like you wanna live. I wanna see more.
Casey: Monk, let’s be careful.
Monk: Careful’s gotten us a lot of problems. I’m pissed off now. Pissed that there are a-holes out there f**king up my day, your day. P*ssed that I’m missing my cartoons (he heads off towards the basement lean-to door.)
Monk lifts the door and the wood creaks and rattles with age. He walks down a few steps to the basement door but it is locked. A few bold attempts leave him frustrated.
Monk: That ain’t working.
Casey: (Motions him to look towards the street.) Look.
A van pulls in and a few guys get out. It’s the van from before. Almost immediately a car driven by Bikekid pulls up and an older man, dressed in cowboy gear, gets out.
Casey: (To Monk) that’s Enormo. They move forward around the side of the house to a few windows overlooking a large room. They position themselves near an open window. A woman’s voice in the room is talking.
WVoice: As soon as they get back we can break up for the night.
Other people enter the room.
We’re done. Any body else?
No response
WVoice: Is everybody accounted for? All right, we’ll shut down the night. The headquarters on Church will shut down. Coring updates will begin at noon tomorrow. Any other stops will be over in Philly at the 7-11 on Delaware Avenue.
(A pause some shuffling)
Voice1: Big day tomorrow, people. 7pm finale. Another Enormo Race comes to an end. Let’s break it down. Remember: Neat and Discreet.
Voice3: Neat and Discrete.
Monk and Casey move towards some bushes by the driveway, near Enormo’s car. Soon a couple guys walk to the car the Cowboy and a woman. Meanwhile about twenty people file out of the house and head into cars. As he’s about to enter Enormo’s car, Cowboy and the woman have a brief conversation.
Woman: I talked to some of the Sheik’s boys; they let them get away again.
Cowboy: Fine, fine. I don’t think we need ‘em, so long as nobody else gets ‘em.
Woman: Yea, still it screws everything up. You and your junior high challenges. The Enormo is fine when it’s about a race, not this extracurricular activity.
Cowboy: What can I say? We’re slaves to the Internet.
Bikekid: (Turns off cell phone turns to Cowboy) Hey Turk, we’re needed at headquarters. (To the woman) Hey, Fly.
Woman: Hey Rusty. I hear you let one get away.
Bikekid: Damn tourists scared her off.
Woman: Dogal says that pretzel girl was coming on to him. He said that she didn’t wanna give you the time of day.
Bikekid: I told her Dogal has the clap, see how that works for him.
Woman: Good luck tomorrow. At least nobody got her.
Bikekid: Yea, I told her to meet me at the Rally house. She never showed. Figured it was worth a shot.
Woman: Well, I saw you on the news for breaking up that local talk show. At least that scored you some points.
Bikekid: Unless they can track me down by my a** cheeks, I think I got away with that one, too.
Cowboy: (In the backseat) Come on Rusty. Let’s get back to work.
Fade out of scene with Casey and Monk huddled together as the car drives off. Fade in to a view of a late evening local road. A few cars, some stores closed for the night, camera rests upon an all night diner. From the outside there is a view of Casey and Monk sitting alone in the diner. The shot moves inside to the remnants of an eaten meal.
Casey: (Overwhelmed) Well that was enough excitement for one day...
Monk: So much s**t, so little fan.
Casey: Should we do something here? The police? With all this stuff falling into place, it seems like some childish pranks. Obviously there’s some kind of contest going on by what appears to be ‘Net Nerds. What’s our part in this?
Monk: I don’t think we have a part. A bunch of freaks are running around doing what they gotta do. Me, I got my own job to do. I’ll be there, first thing tomorrow. It’s my job.
Casey: It seems as though things were a little more dangerous than just pranks. I mean, they were talking about kidnapping. That ain’t a prank.
Monk: Well, if you don’t want to go in tomorrow, that’s fine.
Casey: I’ll go in, I just think we should.... I think we should at least tell Sid.
Monk: F**k Sid.
Casey: (Surprised) Excuse me? I thought you were his biggest fan. You’ve worked for him for years.
Monk: Right now, I’m not feeling the love with ol’ Sid. You know? It’s a bit disconnected. He gave me my first job. 16, I’m working on the boardwalk in Wildwood. Every day was a party. We’d get off work at 3am and stay out past sunrise. Crash. Then do it again.
Casey: And he got you this job for the winter. He’s been good to you.
Monk: I just, he tells me “I got your back Monk.” And he’s always saying, “If anybody bothers you just tell them you work for Sid.” Nice, but what has it done for me? I mean I watch his back all f**king day long. That’s a pretty good deal for him. I provide action, he provides words.
Casey: Sounds like you ain’t feeling the love.
Monk: I feel like I’ve lost that connection. I want to be loyal, and I realize, it’s loyalty to a fault. S**t, I’d have made a great Stormtrooper. Really, I will do what is asked, for three square and a bed.
Casey: Yea I had a boyfriend like that once.
Monk: What happened?
Casey: Oh he was loyal, frigging Saint Bernard loyal. I just realized his loyalty came with a price. I was idealized in his eyes, so I stopped being me, to try and be what he wanted. Never turned ugly, well not until the day I left. Then it got ugly.
Monk: “Restraining order” ugly?
Casey: No more like “I hooked up with your best friend” ugly.
Monk: (Laughs) Nice...I just feel as though I’m being taken advantage of by Sid. I’d never ask for a raise or anything, he’d just give it to me, you know. Like that. He took care of me. Got me a stereo for my car. Brings over dinner. And I’d go through a f**king wall for the guy. All he’d have to do is say the word, man. And I’m there.
Casey: He’s lucky to have you.
Monk: Nah, don’t even say that. He ain’t lucky to have me. He was a good man, took care of me and I repaid him in kind. That ain’t luck, he had to work at that. And I was happy. I could do this forever, or if he wanted me to do something else, I’d do that. But, I don’t know, lately...(pauses) well, you work for him, too. Do you feel it?
Casey: Bad comparison Monk. I’m not here for loyalty. I like everyone, and Sid’s been good, but I’m here because I had nowhere else I wanted to be. I had places I could go. Yea, I still have a place I can go to. But I’m not interested.
Monk: Really, you got an offer on the table?
Casey: Yea, a mortgage company in the area. I have a friend working there. I just don’t know if I want to step back into that world.
Monk: I hear that. 9-hour days, office cubes, formal wear.
Casey: Actually, I don’t mind that. 9 to 5 gets me out of bed, and work can be a cool place to hang out. If you got the right boss, it was cool.
Monk: The right boss?
Casey: Yea, and I’ve had the wrong kind. Real miserable son of a bitch. Family guy, he looked like a typical, harmless aging frat boy, but the guy was just a miserable miserable S.O.B. Cheated on his wife, drank, back stabbed, sit at his desk like a damn king. Would listen in on your phone calls. Quiz you about them when you were done.
Monk: See, that wouldn’t last past day one for me.
Casey: Not me. I played that loyalty card of yours. I started thinking that I was the problem.
Monk:He probably sensed that. That’s why he singled you out for the s**t.
Casey: No, no. I actually got off relatively easy. We had one guy one time; he was a young kid, kind of guy that would probably have been better off working in a petting zoo. A real innocent. But the boss, “Bob the d**k”, was riding the kid’s butt all the time. Well, the kid can’t handle it. Would sit at his desk, hands folded, just rocking back and forth (she imitates this).
Monk: He went f**king fruit loops?
Casey: (Laughs, more animate with the story) He’d do weird things. He would get reamed out by Bob, small office everybody heard it, then just sit at his desk, rocking, he would get out a sticky pad and start writing words on it. Like “respect” and stick it to his desk, then “dignity”. It was some funny stuff.
Monk: He never went postal? Just walk in one day and start blasting?
Casey: Nah, eventually he dug his own grave. We did bill payments, collections all sorts of stuff. He had to go downtown into Philly and pick up some payments, which included some checks, lots of cash, some signed documents. He spent the whole day on the road, gets back in around eight pm.
Monk: S**t, you working ‘til eight?
Casey: Yea, “Bob the c**k” made sure you felt a sense of duty to be there, anyway the kid comes back goes to his desk and starts rooting through his briefcase. Bob asks him for the money, so he just waves him off, you know, “gimme a minute, I’ll do it”. Anyway, I’m watching this and about two minutes later, without saying a word, the kid just walks out and drives away.
Monk: He snapped?
Casey: So I thought. We just sat silent. Bob started pacing. Well, pacing and chain smoking, things he did best. Minutes go by, and then the kid comes back. Walks in the door and places the papers on Bob’s desk.
Monk: Sounds pretty normal.
Casey: Yea, but they were all covered in goo. Like trash and soda and ketchup. Turns out he had stopped at a McDonald’s drive-thru and had accidentally thrown out all the papers with his lunch. Checks, cash, the works. Was too afraid to tell Bob, so he scooted back out and reclaimed them from the trash heap.
Monk: And why was all of this Bob’s fault?
Casey: (Sympathetic) The poor kid. Imagine telling your boss you threw out thousands of dollars at a Mickey D’s drive-thru. Anyway, Bob wrote him up. Kid didn’t quit, never got the hint. Finally, he was Red Carded.
Monk: Sounds like it was fun.
Casey: Well, it’s funny, I’m not the most religious person in the world, but I used to say: “Are we doing the Lord’s work?” Kinda tongue in cheek, but really; I was just wondering what was the purpose of it? I went to college, got a business degree, and what did it mean? Some bad job where you use other people? Everywhere I went, when you got right down to the cold hard gist of the job somebody was getting the shaft.
Monk: But still, it was what you did. See, that’s what you seem to get caught, everybody’s got a job to do. Somebody’s gotta do it. Whether it’s guarding a bridge or taking out trash or blowing donkeys at the freak show, we all gotta do what we gotta do.
Casey: I didn’t gotta do anything.
Monk: But when you take on a job, you create a bond. It’s like family or a wife. It’s a loyalty that cannot be broken by outsiders.
Casey: Thank you, Tony Soprano.
Monk: Well, yea, that too. But really, isn’t the Mafia just a model of all of business? You work for someone producing a good or service, they do for you, you do for them. You got each other’s backs. Sure, if they’re you know, ripping the kidneys out of the elderly or burning puppies, you leave. Just accept the fact and go. No press conferences, no moralizing, and move on. But otherwise, you look out for each other.
Casey: So as long as Sid’s working the straight and narrow, no morality issues, you’re good.
Monk: Oh s**t, no. My loyalty is not based on some handshake; it’s based on a mutual, two-way relationship. It means when I see somebody trying to steal from one of his machines, I look out for that like it was my own. And that works, so long as I believe he is looking out for me. When that gets broken, then it’s all men for themselves. Lover scorned? S**t, that pales to a Loyal employee scorned.
Casey: And now you are scorned.
Monk: (Dismisses) I’m just talking out my ass. It ain’t about money, it really isn’t. I just don’t feel he’s looking out for me.
Casey: You want a promotion? He’s got other businesses you think he should be moving you into one of them?
Monk: Well, it’d be cool to try something else out. I can handle it. I see what those bosses do. They sit around and decided why they shouldn’t make a decision. F**k, I could do that. I guarantee you that, unlike most bosses I’ve worked for, I wouldn’t forget what it was like to be one of the worker bees. Every time you promote one of those f**kers it’s like they suddenly forget that they once were down there, hauling s**t, too. F**king amnesia.
Casey: You let him know this or are you just relying on Karma?
Monk: I talk to him about s**t all the time. But I shouldn’t have to ask. See what I’m saying? He should know? Why should I have to ask?
Casey: Because...no promotions...
Monk: Nah, I don’t talk about that, I talk about what I see. But it’d be nice if they would take me seriously. Just once, you know.
Casey: Well, Monk, I don’t know. You know, we discussed it, you gotta stick to something.
Monk: F**k that, they ain’t looking my way. I’m not big time material. I’m the f**king lackey. “problems, just say you know Sid.” F**k. Lately I get the feeling I’ve been playing out that game a little too long.
Casey: Then look for something else.
Monk: What the f**k? Why ain’t it happening here for me?
Casey: I don’t know.
Monk: Tell me, why ain’t it going my way here?
Casey: I don’t know.
Monk: You’ve worked with me for two years, what’s your impression?
Casey: I would put you in charge of something. I mean, I agree there’s too much corporate mentality, and you would be a breath of air.
Monk: I’m too cranky, I ruffle feathers.
Casey: Feathers need to be ruffled.
Monk: I drink too much.
Casey: (Pauses) Well...
Monk: Nah, I’m just too much of a troublemaker.
Casey: You might have hit it with the last one.
Monk: (Glares) Some things are not necessary to change. All this boss talk. I wanna be somebody who can be relied, on that’s it. Loyalty. F**k the rest of the stuff. Good or bad, trust me to get it done.
Casey: I may be leaving. I’m thinking about it this time. You know, like that stuff you said to me today about no job being all-clean. I might as well go into a situation I like and try to bring my own sense of morality into it.
Monk: You gonna take the job?
Casey: In the end, probably no. I just can’t face what goes on out there. As long as I know pretzels, coffee, no harm no foul. I’m all right.
Fade Out
Start of the day, Monk is shown driving up to the Mall. He approaches and stops the car a block away. He looks over the whole place. Sees a couple kids walk by and ducks under the dash. They just walk by. He slowly re-approaches the Mall. Sees nothing out of the ordinary. Drives back to the far end of the lot and parks. Carefully he goes to work.
Cut to the inside. Monk setting up the machines, but he is jumpy.
A couple people come and go. Montage shots. Kids playing videos. But Casey is not at the kiosk. Places a call on his cell phone:
Monk: (To phone) Case, it’s Monk. Seeing if you’re coming in. Give me a call. Monk starts playing Skeeball, a guy in a blue racing jacket is walking around and begins to make some small talk with Monk.
Merkel: Hey how ya doing there?
Monk: Fine, and yourself.
Merkel: I’m Merkel, what’s your name?
Monk: Merkel. That’s a funny name.
Merkel: Well it’s Fred Merkel but everyone calls me Merkel.
Monk: Yea, I can see why.
A kid walks past them
Kid: See ya later Monk.
Merkel: Monk? And you’re ragging on my name
Monk: S**t, at least Monk ain’t on my birth certificate.
Merkel: No, it’s something you gave yourself, you tell me which is worse?
Monk: (Agitated) You need something?
Merkel: (Nicer) Yea, no, I was just watching you play Skeeball. Not many people left that appreciate the classics. Skeeball, Pinball,
Monk: Well it’s a true game of skill. Video games, it’s button pushing. But this it exists in 3D.
Merkel: You play for money or would that be considered out of line
Monk: Well it’s not in keeping with the purity of the sport, but what did you have in mind.
Merkel: We can play for money or play for fun.
Monk: For fun?
Merkel:Yea, do you like to have fun?
Monk: Yea, but we might have competing definitions of what that word means.
Merkel: It can mean whatever you want.
Monk: Well, in this case I think it means, I’m gonna walk away and hope you’re gone before I get back.
Monk begins walking away. The Guy (“sorry man”) tries to follow. Casual, not stalking. Monk speeds up him pace and goes into the back office and closes/locks the door. The guy shrugs, leaves.
Cut to a few minutes later, Monk carefully leaves the office. Looks around doesn’t see anyone in the arcade. Walks out of the arcade, sees Casey at the kiosk, opening up for the day. She has a hooded sweatshirt on and is looking about nervously. Monk approaches her from behind.
Monk: (Whispers, ‘spooky’ voice) It is I, Enormo.
Casey: (Lets out a yipe. Turns sees that it’s Monk) At some point you must have realized that that wouldn’t be funny.
Monk: At some point we gotta go on with things. Fear will not rule my actions. By the way your stink must be rubbing off on me, I just had another dude pickup occur.
Casey: Really, (mock sincerity) I’m so happy for you. One day, I know you’ll find true love. (Monk smiles and bows. Casey shifts the conversation.)
Monk: How are you doing? Recovered and all?
Casey: I’m getting there. Last night was pretty weird, but you’re right. I thought about it this morning, I just gotta watch me, and the rest should take care of itself. I can’t live in fear. Anyway, what would all the people do without my coffee?
Monk: The safe harbor you provide each and every day, in a harm-free zone.
Casey: I was thinking about how you said that even here, at a pretzel stand, I am still oppressing my fellow man.
Monk: Don’t remember using those exact words. I just think that if you believe there’s any such thing as a no strings attached job, you’re being naïve.
Casey: Check this out. Do you remember that about a year ago, I convinced Sid to switch to paper cups from Styrofoam?
Monk: Yea, so what?
Casey: That’s a plus for me. You can’t play the ‘she’s hurting the environment’ card against me. See, I really have found a job that hurts nobody.
Monk: All well and good, except you’re now doing more harm than you were before. Sure, if people were to use reusable cups that would be the most ideal situation, but in a choice between Styrofoam and paper, Styrofoam is clearly the better choice.
Casey: Please, Monk. Don’t argue with me about green issues. Have you been living in a cave? Styrofoam is evil. Always has been.
Monk: Listen I don’t give a f**k one-way or the other. I think the whole business is a bunch of hype. The environment goes on in spite of what man does. S**t, you could drink coffee from hollowed out baby raccoon skulls for all I care. The earth is resilient. But, it’s a fact that Styrofoam uses less natural resources to prepare and since it’s been like twenty years since they used CFC’s in the manufacture of it, it’s not harming the environment, either.
Casey: You’re an idiot. Styrofoam is a harmful petroleum product, it never goes away. It’s unnatural. It’s a wasteful product; it’s not biodegradable and takes up one third of all landfills.
Monk: Christ, don’t parrot political rhetoric to me, please. One-third! Think about that. Do you really believe that? In truth, it’s less than one percent. And it’s not all Styrofoam. The name is polystyrene foam. Styrofoam is a brand name held by Dow.
Casey: When did you become the disseminator of big business lies?
Monk: For a bright girl you really can be dumb. Just think about it for a minute. Maybe, just maybe, you’re wrong. Have you ever thought about that? Have you investigated the topic or do you regurgitate what you’ve read by authors with agendas? Look it up for yourself, do the research. S**t, one-third. How the f**k could we fill one-third of a landfill with Styrofoam? Think about it.
Casey: And you have researched the topic?
Monk: Of course I have. I’m curious like that. People say something is bad, I assume they have an agenda. It’s an assumption that has proven correct, for the most part.
Casey: All this great talent wasting in an arcade.
Monk: Mock if you wish, but it doesn’t hide the irrefutable fact that your best intentions have done more harm than good. There is no such thing as a No Harm Job. Sooner or later, somebody’s getting f**ked. It’s the job we all gotta do, and you gotta do it, too. Learn it, and you’ll realize that there’s so much more you could offer the world than a pretzel and a cup of coffee.
Pause and fade out
MIDDAY:
Their boss, Sid, enters the Mall. He is a commanding figure, but dressed casually. He walks with a calm air of authority.
Sid: (Entering the arcade to Monk who is sitting on a skeeball machine reading the paper) Hey Monk, how you doing? Laying off the juice?
Monk: (Pops off the machine. Not panicked and fast, but more in a measured respect) Sure Sid, I don’t touch the stuff during work.
Sid:(Laughs) funny kid. How’s your family?
Monk: (Dismissively) Good, good. Look Sid. We had a guy come in today and....
Sid: B-b-b (waves him off) what’d I tell ya, Monk? You work for me OK. Let ‘em know. You work for Sid.
Monk: Yea but....
Sid: But nothing, anybody gives you s**t, or starts acting weird; you work for Sid.
Monk: I was going to...
Sid: What do you say?
Monk: I work for Sid?
Sid: Good boy, now on your haunches and I’ll give you your paycheck.
Sid hands him an envelope and then disappears into the back room. Monk opens it, a shot of his expression upon opening it, and goes back to the magazine. Sid comes back.
Sid: (Points to the pretzel stand) Where’s the kid?
Monk: I don’t know, probably taking a dump.
Sid: (Winces) Nice imagery. If you see her, tell her I said hi. And make sure she washes her hands. I’m going to the CD store, ask them for some Hootie and the Blowfish. See if their heads explode.
He walks away
Part 3