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160 lines
3.7 KiB
Text
160 lines
3.7 KiB
Text
.LP
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.ce
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.ps 16
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.CW
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PERIOD DRAMA
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.R
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.ps 8
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.CW
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tags: 1985, b_errol_royale, chuck_fraud, the_director
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.R
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.PP
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.ps 10
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Chuck Fraud loaded his pen.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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He cruised in through the front doors and attached himself to a
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cart. Walked it down an aisle and held out his arm, sending a row of
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boxes tumbling into his basket.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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At the register he pulled out his pen and started to write a check.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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"What are you, Abraham Lincoln?" the cashier said, "You can't write
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a check here."
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.PP
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.ps 10
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"What, my money's not good enough for you?"
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.PP
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.ps 10
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"No, sir, it's not. In fact, where did you find an
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.I
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ink pen,
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.R
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anyway?"
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.PP
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.ps 10
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Chuck Fraud was taken aback by this. How audacious. And no regard
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for history.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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"Son\(em"
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.PP
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.ps 10
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.B
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"Cut!"
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.R
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cried the Director. "I still don't feel good about this
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scene. Some of the details just don't read as authentic. And I don't
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like this conveyor belt. I don't remember electronics stores looking
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like this."
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.PP
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.ps 10
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He looked down and then spoke into his Arrow shirtsleeve.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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"Get me the Expert.
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.I
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The Expert!
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.R
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Now."
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.PP
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.ps 10
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After a few minutes the actors were already getting restless and so
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he waved them off, free to shoot dice or fuck under the craft services
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table or whatever it was actors did when not being directed by a
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director. People continued to swarm around him, but still the Expert
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was not present.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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The Director consulted his shirtsleeve again and then peered into
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his lap at his leaf. He'd research this himself. He tapped two
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distinct regions in sequence and then furrowed his brow as his eyes
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strained to follow the changes.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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Chuck Fraud loaded his pen.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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He cruised in through the front doors and attached himself to a
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cart. Walked it down an aisle and held out his arm, sending a row of
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boxes tumbling into his basket.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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Pushed the basket up to the register. Starting filling out a check.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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"I'll need to see your identoplate," the cashier interrupted.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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"What kind of scam is this?" asked Chuck Fraud.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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"Sir, you can't pay with paper\(em"
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.PP
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.ps 10
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.B
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"Cut!"
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.R
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screamed the Director, finally making himself hoarse.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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This time, the Expert was on hand.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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"This sequence just isn't working. I'm sort of re\-writing it blind
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here; I don't know if the original screenplay was pecked out at random
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by amphetamine\-soaked apes or if this was something originally
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intended for telescreen. Either way, it's shit. This retail
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environment is in no way authentic. The transaction particulars are
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also inaccurate. If
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.I
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I
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.R
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remember this stuff, you
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.I
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know
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.R
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the
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.I
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viewers
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.R
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are
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going to remember it. We've got to do something about it."
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.PP
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.ps 10
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"I'll see what I can come up with," confirmed the Expert, before
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darting between some interns and vacating the sound stage.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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Errol Royale fingered a business card from the top of his deck. It
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read: "B. Errol Royale, Recruiter." His eyes massaged the dense
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ultracrowd. As he surveyed the area, an erection began to deform the
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contour of his trousers.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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Royale flashed on one Chuck P. Fraud and made a bee\-line for him,
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parting the sea of aimless consumers by waving his business card in
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front of his face like a butterfly knife. Fraud responded, naturally
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enough, by shifting his weight and attacking Royale's midsection,
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using the point formed by his knuckles to radiate a signal of pain
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throughout the taller man's ribcage\(em
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.PP
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.ps 10
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.B
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"Cut,"
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.R
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breathed the Director.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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He paused to draw in more air before continuing.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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"I think I'm going to give up on this scene. I no longer care how
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Fraud gets into the military. We just have to make it believable when
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he starts picking off Congressmen. Let's move on to the next page."
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