A Conversation on 4th Street: The Screenplay

If you came to this site to read my one and only race report, it’s down here.

[Scene: Our lonely technical writer (Young Heroine) who sits by her kitchen window every day, wondering what the heck she’s supposed to do as she reads over external specs that make absolutely no sense, goes out for a walk to an indisclosed coffee vendor, aka The Evil Empire, as a non-fat grande hot chocolate might help her think. She has just passed by the Golden Gate Transit bus stop on 4th Street by that new courtyard shopping center with the fountain, when she is stopped by a younger fellow, in loosely tailored business attire, and a headband, carrying a clipboard.]

Young Fellow: Hey, are you registered to vote?

[Before our young heroine realizes that he is not talking to her, but an elderly woman in a fur coat, bright orange lips and hair to match, she stops.]

Young Heroine: Um, yes?

Young Fellow: Oh, okay, I’ll talk to you, too.

[Our Young Heroine now realizes her mistake. She could be in Starbucks that undisclosed coffee vendor by now. Her years at the Bakersfield Academy of Performing Arts, however, have trained her to disguise her disappointment. The Young Fellow with the Headband now begins his speech.]

Young Fellow: I want to know how you feel about this. This here is a petition to reduce the term a person can spend in our state’s legistature from fourteen years to twelve. How do you feel about that?

Fur Coat Lady with Orange Hair: Well, I think it is terrible having to wait a half hour for the bus.

[An uncomfortable silence follows. There are looks of confusion on the faces of all three.]

Young Fellow: No, what I mean is, a person incould only serve twelve years instead of fourteen. How do you feel about that?

Young Heroine: Fourteen years down to two? What difference would that make.

Young Fellow: About two years.

[Beat.]

Fur Coat Lady: Will this bring it back to  how it was? You used to only have to wait a half hour for the bus. Now you can sometimes wait for a full hour.

[Painful pause. Looks of confusion. Our Screenwriter has neglected to mention that Fur Coat Lady speaks with heavily accented English, and it turns out that the accent is Italian, which is one of the languages that our Young Heroine is not learning, so, bummer.]

Young Heroine: I need a hot chocolate. [Young Heroine turns to the direction of unnamed evil empire to make her escape.]

Young Fellow: No! You can’t leave me! I know I’m dressed nice, but I’m homeless, and this is my job. [Heavy emphasis on “this is my job.”]

Young Heroine: Fine, I’ll sign it.

Headband Dude: Really? Wow. Thanks!

Orange Hair Lady: I will sign it, too. But you have to tell me what it says.

[Our scene ends now.]

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About katiekelly

I grew up in a parking lot.
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