After writing in that last post about the screenplay that I scribbled out in between Forensics tournaments in college, I went back and read it again, which is always an interesting experience. It's about four college students trying to stop the four horsemen of the apocalypse in a small town--not terribly original or clever. But there are a few bits that I always liked, and one of them was this exchange between Famine and one of the protagonists.
Zach and Famine stare off the porch at the sky ahead, watching as a flock of geese fly by. FAMINE I will have to remember that. ZACH Something for your new world? FAMINE Lots to think about. What to keep, what to make different. ZACH I hate I won't be there to see it. FAMINE Maybe you will. Who knows how these things work? ZACH Don't you? FAMINE No. Not really. As much as I hate to admit it, I probably live in a world of much less certainty than you do. Think about it: all your life you've been taught that the laws of physics cannot be broken, that monsters and boogie men do not exist, that everything is well- reasoned and rational. Your world makes sense. Whereas for us, you never know what could happen next. ZACH Sounds exciting. FAMINE It's exhausting. We're tired, all four of us. We were created to do one thing, and yet for millenia had to hold off, wait until we got the go-ahead. No matter how much fun we've had with our hobbies over the years, the real point has always been the big event, Apocalypse. Now, even if it doesn't work, we finally get to do what we do best. There's a pause as the geese fly completely out of sight, just dots on the horizon and then gone. ZACH So you guys just decided one day, hey, why not take over the world? FAMINE Funny you should say that. ZACH You're kidding me. FAMINE Hey, we figured we were on a roll. People die from famine today, no matter what Sally Struthers says. And the best part is how Americans pretend it doesn't happen. Pestilence has diversified into pollution, so he's happy as a clam. Owns a stock of shares in several major oil companies, last time we checked. War is in a period of steady growth, especially with escalating international tension, and Death is always a popular commodity. All in all, why not strike while we're strong? ZACH I guess I can't argue with that logic. Look, how the hell are you going to kill me anyway? What are you going to do, starve me to death? Make me anorexic? Blacklist me at Food Lion? FAMINE I prefer something a little more subtle. He leans forward, and the darkness around him, on his suit, in the crevices of his skinny grin, seems to crawl. FAMINE I'm going to eat you, Zach. I'm going to swallow you up and digest on you for a little while, because I'm a very hungry guy and you look like someone with some substance to you. Zach backs away, horrified. Famine grins even wider. FAMINE You'd probably like to think that I mean this in a metaphysical sense, Zach. I know you like to pretend that you're a big-time philosophy major with important ideas. So you might like to think that this is just some nihilistic kick of mine, something to scare you. And you might be right. Famine sits back enough that he can comfortably reach into his jacket, pulling out a gingerbread man. Its icing gives it a look uncannily like Zach himself. He flourishes it. FAMINE But you might be wrong. He looks down at the cookie. Holds it up and squints at it, as if comparing its likeness with the inspiration. Then he smiles tightly and offers it. FAMINE Care for a bite? As if dazed, Zach reaches for the cookie, takes it, and holds it in his hands. Slowly, he brings it to his mouth and takes off a leg. FAMINE This isn't going to kill you, Zach. Not right away. It's just going to take you out of the action for a little while. Long enough for my comrades to remove your friends from the picture more permanently. When you resurface, you're going to have to face the fact that when those you really care about needed you, you were right here on your front porch, not lifting a single finger. As he eats, Zach gets more and more tired, more and more sleepy. FAMINE It's not about starvation, Zach. Never really was. If you do your research, the third horseman stands for much more that that. I am unfairness. I am inequality. I am inaction. Zach pauses, only the head of the cookie-Zach remaining. Famine takes it from his limp fingers, places it in his mouth. Zach tries to follow the movement with his eyes, but he's too far gone. FAMINE Bon apetit. He closes Zach's mouth around the cookie. Blur, and fade to black.