EXT. SUBURBAN BALTIMORE, NIGHT, 2011
Distant sirens gradually become clearer. Nineteen year old
Apollo is helplessly curled over in the street. His face is
beaten and bloody. The darkness of the street is only
interrupted by a few streetlights. A dark and assaulted
Apollo writhes and attempts to scoot but his body gives out.
The sirens are now louder and more consistent as Apollo lies
The long, sterile hospital hall leads to Apollo’s room where
his cousin, 26 yr old Zalah, is by his side. Zalah’s deep
brown eyes are fixed on a bandaged and sleeping Apollo. The
scene is relatively absent of dialogue besides Zalah
speaking to Apollo who is bandaged and sleep.
You keep pushing your luck don’t
Silence except the sound of the machines supporting Apollo.
I’m just glad you made it (pause)
Happy you’re still breathing.
On the verge of tears, she refrains from speaking and stares
into her cousin’s beautiful dark face; almost so dark you
can’t tell that he’s been beaten up. The hospital room is
sterile and cold and the bandages and Zalah runs the
backside of hand along the head bandage.
She says this aloud. The tubes are coming from his nose and
the bag drips. Zalah is uneasy now as she glances over to
I know it’s been hard…probably
harder than any of us ever
Zalah abruptly stops speaking and becomes emotional again.
She stops frequently while talking to Apollo to steady
herself and suppress tears. She sighs heavy and holds his
…just thought you’d fight in a
different way Bear.
Apollo attempts to mumble something; it is inaudible. Zalah
straightens up and sniffles.
Hey you. Wake up. Can you hear me?
A faint smile of a chipped front tooth.
Take your time baby. You’ll come
INT. ZALAH’S APARTMENT, SEATTLE, MORNING, PRESENT DAY
Apollo’s long, sinewy legs are tangled in white sheets. The
sun is cutting through the curtains and garbage trucks are
collecting outside. He reluctantly opens his eyes and lie in
bed. His morning wood is throbbing and he reaches down to
INT. CHELSEA’S ROOM, EARLY EVE., 2007
I saw you looking at him! I saw you
Chelsea is whimpering. She is a year older but stands at
only 5’1’; a frail, melodramatic bi-racial girl. Recently
interested in the Emo movement, she is dressed in tapered,
yellow stonewashed jeans and a faded black tee that hits at
her navel. Her eye makeup is heavy and amateur and her long,
jet black and light brown hair is tossed across her forehead
nearly covering her green eyes.
I promise Apollo, I don’t know what
you’re talking about!
Apollo extends his arm to Chelsea’s neck and tightens his
grip. Chelsea begins to struggle for oxygen and tears roll
down her thin face and her makeup runs. She is pleading with
her eyes. For a second, she loses is motionless and a
frightened Apollo releases. He pushes her by her neck and
she lands on her twin size bed.
window. He twists an
You slut! You probably fucked him
too. You think you’re too good for
me? Is that what it is?
Although Apollo has released her neck, she is still
traumatized and unable to speak. She catches her breath and
screams for Apollo to leave her room; the house. In the next
room Chelsea’s younger sister is lying belly down on her bed
and deeply engaged in a re-run of Teen Mom. Chelsea’s mother
is in the kitchen dressed in business casual. She is
scrambling to put together a meal. Both family members are
focused on their activities. Back in the room, Chelsea is
crying loudly and violently. Apollo is standing near the
door, staring at Chelsea with a blank look on his face.
Look Chels, I love you. I just
can’t stand to see you with anybody
else…you don’t know how mad I get
when I do.
If you love me then why would you
try to kill me?
Because I love you.
In a continuation of celebrating first-class women, I offer this little note about a big personality, a one Ms. Eartha Kitt.
She entertained Paris as well as NYC’s Broadway. With nothing but talent and lots of moxie, she made her mark in show business. She danced her way all to Europe with the legendary Katherine Dunham and eventually, Orson Welles was endeared enough to offer her the role of Helen of Troy.
But she is also triumphant. Often taunted for her ethnicity and sent away at an early age, Ms. Kitt knows a thing or two about obstacles. Despite being turned away by native hands, the stage and the spotlight embraced her. Even the kids loved her in “The Emperor’s New Groove.”
Eartha was a pistol. She seemed like the kind of woman who might just break out into song mid-conversation. And scold you for interrupting her. Yes, yes she was something else with that radically unique voice. Sometimes I still wake up to the sound of her purring “Marcus dah’ling…I don’t have any panties on.”
Tell me, how do live the life? Are you first-class?