Short story Draft 1

WORKING TITLE: “BOGART”

(A short story condensed from a 7-page screenplay with multiple scenes)

It’s Eight o’clock on a rainy Saturday night. Mark awkwardly sits beside Kate on the living room couch in his apartment. Smart, elegant, blonde and beautiful; she’s a nine of ten. As they face the television screen in silence, Mark turns to Kate in attempt to speak, but instead, he simply smiles. He looks off to the corner of the room to see his cat clawing away at his tongue on the floor. He double takes and the cat is gone. She forcefully smiles in return and turns back towards the television screen. Suddenly, a voice breaks the silence.

“Getting any action?”.

A large vapor of cigarette smoke is blown towards Mark. He coughs and looks to his left. A mysterious man sharply dressed in suit and tie underneath a large beige colored trench coat has suddenly appeared, sitting next to him on the couch. As the man’s black fedora shades his face, the illumination of a red spark glows each time he inhales his cigarette. The man, sporting a heavy Humphrey Bogart-esque voice, seems to be a figment of Mark’s imagination, as Kate takes no notice of him.

“This was a terrible idea. You said an easy way for me to get to second base was to put on a horror film”, says Mark.

“She’s not scared?”, the man asks.

“What do you think?”

They both turn to see Kate apathetically yawning while sounds of a chainsaw emerge from the television.

“Hey, I never said I could read minds”. The man hands Mark a business card. “You can call my third cousin’s, nephew’s, sister’s, flat mate for that. She’s a pro”.

Mark tears the card in half.

“Besides, having your first date with a broad at this dump…” The man shakes his head. “For Christ sake, what were you thinking?

“You said you were going to help me out”, says Mark.

“Well, you could start by sitting up straight. Arm around shoulder”.

Mark corrects his posture and puts his arm around the man.

“Not my shoulder, idiot. Arm around hers”.

Mark slowly moves his arm around Kate. He looks at her and smiles.

“Now move in for the kill”, says the man.

Mark draws out a sharp kitchen knife from under the couch. The man quickly slaps Mark across the face, causing him to drop it.

“As in kiss her, not commit homicide”.

“What, kiss her right now?”.

“Or I could pencil you in for next week”, offers the man sarcastically while holding out a black diary. “Yes, do it now!”, he demands, as he throws it away.

Mark turns and sees Kate, having left the couch, standing near the front door. She gathers her bag and picks up her coat, preparing to escape.

“Kate, where are you going?”

“Sorry, early start at the office tomorrow”, she says without hesitation.

“Tomorrow’s Sunday”.

“Alright, to be honest this is just weird… I’ve gotta go”.

She opens the door. “Oh and tell your friend, that he’s not invisible. Anyone with a pair of eyes can see him”, she says before briskly shutting the door behind her.

Mark and the man sit in silence.

“You think she was talking about me?”.