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Chapter 4 - Max Booth III (Zombie Punk)
FADE IN:
INT:
A rectangular cafeteria-type of table resides in the middle of a long, narrow room, where a teenager named Max sits with his arms crossed. Even though his eyes are squinted from the blinding, headache-causing fluorescent-bulb lights he can still make out the dark shape of the tall, muscular Washington D.C. Detective.
(Detective Davidson is storming back and forth with an angry expression determined to stay across his face.)
DAVIDSON:
So, any time you feel like talking, please feel free to do so. It's not like anybody died or anything.
MAX:
What do you want to know? I don't know anything, I'm just a kid.
DAVIDSON:
Yeah, exactly! What is a kid from Indiana doing all the way out in D.C. at two-thirty in the morning?
MAX:
You know, it's the strangest thing. I went to bed and woke up here. I must be sleepwalking, huh?
DAVIDSON:
Yeah, keep on with the jokes. Your parents are on their way so I don't think you're gonna be smiling soon.
MAX:
So? Oh big whup, my parents are coming. I needed a ride home anyways, didn't I?
DAVIDSON:
(nostrils flaring, he grabs Max by the collar and gets right in his face)
Listen here, you snot-nosed little punk, somebody was murdered! You know what that means? He's dead, and he ain't ever coming back! Now you better start spilling your guts or so help me God I'm gonna make sure you see some time behind bars!
(Max realizes Davidson is not bluffing, so he sighs and ...)
MAX:
Okay, I'll talk.. What do you want me to tell you?
DAVIDSON:
We'll start off with a simple question: what is this StoriesVille?
MAX:
A website for short stories. Shouldn't you know that already, though? I mean, aren't you the Detective?
DAVIDSON:
(ignoring the second half of Max's reply)
Next question: why did you come to Washington D.C.?
MAX:
(leans in close to the detective and whispers ...)
Well, don't tell anyone but ... I have a plan to take out the President. So, I guess you've caught me. An assassin before the assassination. Good job, you should give yourself a pat on the back.
(Davidson snares at Max like a rabid dog.)
MAX:
Jeez, can't ya take a joke, man? Uptight much? Fine, I was invited to the party, as if that answer wasn't obvious. What else?
DAVIDSON:
Why were you invited?
MAX:
Because I'm a writer on StoriesVille.
DAVIDSON:
But why, out of all of the writers there were you one of the ones chosen?
MAX:
I dunno, guess because I've been a member for a long time and I've become fairly popular.
DAVIDSON:
What made you decide to come all the way out here? You don't even know these people, except for online. They could have been anybody.
MAX:
I have my reasons ...
DAVIDSON:
And these are?
MAX:
I have a theory that the man who was murdered was, in fact, not the Administrator of StoriesVille.
DAVIDSON:
Then who was he?
MAX:
A pawn ...
DAVIDSON:
A pawn? A pawn for what?
MAX:
For a man of greater power.
DAVIDSON:
And who is this man again?
MAX:
Well, most know him as Stephen King--
DAVIDSON:
Stephen King? What did I tell you about the jokes, Damnit!? This is not a laughing matter!
MAX:
I'm not joking, Detective.
DAVIDSON:
Okay, so pleeeaase tell me; why would Stephen King be running an underground writing website?
MAX:
Isn't it obvious? He's written over sixty novels, man. The dude is out of fresh material. You know that new one, ‘Cell'? Well, I wrote that. The bastard stole my short story and turned it into a book.
DAVIDSON:
Alright, say if all of this is true; why would he invite you out to D.C. and get you all together?
MAX:
He wants us dead. He doesn't want anybody catching on to how he ‘thought' of his recent novels ideas.
DAVIDSON:
And you have proof? Doubt it.
MAX:
I have what was in my Gift.
DAVIDSON:
And that was?
MAX:
A suicide note, and someone forged my signature at the bottom.
DAVIDSON:
Bullshit.
MAX:
It's at the mansion. Check it out for yourself. I think he was trying to poison us all with the wine. Just like the supposed ‘Admin'.
DAVIDSON:
You're insane.
MAX:
(leans in closer)
Am I?
DAVIDSON:
Yeah, you are.
MAX:
Well, I guess we'll have to agree to disagree.
DAVIDSON:
I'm done with you. Your parents will be here in an hour. I hope they beat your ass.
(Davidson walks toward the door and ...)
MAX:
(shouts)
You can't hide the truth, Detective!
DAVIDSON:
(shakes his head and whispers ...)
******* psycho.
FADE OUT
Copyright 2008 Project 30
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