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Mojave by Benjamin Sweet

brsweet@gmail.com 508-221-8735 ŠCopyright Benjamin Sweet, 2009.

All rights reserved.


INT. CLEAN ROOM - NIGHT A lean and firm hand lightly guides a pencil over a sheet of paper sketching in the last lines of a rudimentary portrait: A young brunette woman with a snake tattoo on her neck. Below the sketch, two words are written out, each large letter given its own care and focus: “S-A-N F-R-A-N-C-I-S-C-O”. INT. CLEAN ROOM - LATER A simple analogue watch ticks on a wrist. Quickly, precisely, and quietly, a pair of hands assembles the components of a pistol. Clicking, locking, checking, tapping. Loaded and cocked, the safety clicks on and the gun is placed on a table over the female portrait. Again, the watch ticks on the wrist. CUT TO: EXT. MOJAVE DESERT / ROADSIDE MOTEL - NIGHT A small, bland, and slightly unwelcoming roadside installment. Silent, without any signs of life other than a few cars parked in the lot and several illuminated windows. A neon sign assures its guests of free cable and a pool. INT. MOTEL / ROOM 11C - NIGHT BOHIEM (Bo-Heem), a thirty-five-year-old, stoic, and quietly charming man sits behind a desk. He gingerly swashes his Swedish photo ID through some remnants of marijuana and cocaine atop the motel bible, next to which sits a small black revolver. On the bed behind him lays, CHERRY COLA: a young, sweet, and deceptively intelligent blond haired prostitute. She’s topless, heavily tattooed, and wearing a pair of jean cut-offs. (CONTINUED)


2. CONTINUED: CHERRY COLA (southern-bell accent) I think you missed some. Bohiem carefully collects the small drug pile and sprinkles it into a pipe. He has a slight Scandinavian accent and his English is imperfect. No.

BOHIEM

CHERRY COLA That’s fuckin’ nasty, Bohiem. Bohiem smokes the pipe, lets out a long exhale, then picks up the revolver from the table. He holds it out with one eye shut, and slowly aims across the room, rotating past Cherry Cola to an elegant 3’X4’ painting sitting on the floor leaned up against the wall. Cherry’s attention follows. CHERRY COLA (CONT’D) Who is it again? Mr. Go-dare? BOHIEM That, my Cherry Soda Pop, would be Mr. Gustav Klimt, and you had better thank him nicely because he’s getting us out of this septic tank of a state. CHERRY COLA (to painting) Where you gonna take us, Mr. Gustav? BOHIEM To a world of non-profit monogamy. CHERRY COLA Amen to that! Thank you Mr. Gustav Klimt, I ain’t never been monogamous before. ‘Specially for free. Bohiem smiles at her as he lights the pipe again. blows a stack of smoke out of one nostril.

He

Bohiem’s face grows more intoxicated.

(CONTINUED)


3. CONTINUED: (2) Uh-oh. again.

CHERRY COLA (CONT’D) You got the retard face on Put the bong down, Bohiem.

BOHIEM I have no face, other than my face. The atmosphere changes when Bohiem hears the quiet sound of a car pulling into the motel parking lot. His body tenses slightly in anxiety, making Cherry nervous. Cautiously, he stands up, revolver in hand, and slowly walks to the window. He peers outside through a small opening between the curtains. Who is it?

CHERRY COLA

Outside, an old woman steps out from her car and shuts the door. Bohiem closes the curtain, quietly relieved. BOHIEM Just an old woman. Cherry stares over at the Gustav Klimt painting. CHERRY COLA (nervous) Do you think anybody is gonna find out we took it? No.

BOHIEM

CHERRY COLA Well, what happens if they do? BOHIEM That is not something you need to worry about, because that is something that is not possible. CHERRY COLA But I am worried. BOHIEM I will protect you. (CONTINUED)


4. CONTINUED: (3) Oh yeah? that?

CHERRY COLA And how are you gonna do

BOHIEM Blindfolded, with my arms tied behind my back. CHERRY COLA Since when did you turn into the professional protection man? Since forever.

BOHIEM

Cherry admires his dry charm. CHERRY COLA I love you, Bohiem. BOHIEM I love you, Soda Pop. CUT TO: EXT. MOJAVE DESERT / ROADSIDE MOTEL - CONTINUOUS Though unable to see his face, a man on a bicycle rides silently along the road. He turns into the motel parking lot. CUT TO: INT. MOTEL / ROOM 11C - CONTINUOUS Staring at the floor like he has something on his mind, Bohiem spins the revolver chamber in indecisively. BOHIEM Can I tell you something? What?

CHERRY COLA

BOHIEM You cannot laugh. What?

CHERRY COLA

BOHIEM You have to promise not to laugh. (CONTINUED)


5. CONTINUED: Uh.

CHERRY COLA Is it bad?

No. I’ve just before because probably think and laugh, but and you cannot

BOHIEM never told anyone people would that it is silly it is not silly, laugh.

CHERRY COLA Are you, like, super high? No.

BOHIEM

Bohiem spins the revolver chamber. BOHIEM (CONT’D) I was a knight. In my past life. CHERRY COLA (cracking up) What the fuck? Nevermind.

BOHIEM

CHERRY COLA (feeling guilty) I’m sorry. Go on. BOHIEM I was a knight. With shining armor, and a horse, and a lance. CHERRY COLA I can picture that. You can?

BOHIEM

Cherry flops over onto her belly. CHERRY COLA What color horse? BOHIEM White. With red metal. And one day I saw someone like you: poor and enslaved. And I freed you so we could run away together forever. Cherry enjoys the beauty of the strange thought. (CONTINUED)


6. CONTINUED: (2) CHERRY COLA That’s a cupcake of a idea, honey. They sit silently for a moment. Bohiem spins the revolver chamber. CHERRY COLA (CONT’D) Well. At least you still got somethin’ that carried over from that past life then. BOHIEM And what is that? A big lance.

CHERRY COLA

He gives Cherry a playfully incriminating look. BOHIEM Ah. So smart you are. - So, what is it that you want? Cherry innocently chews her painted pinky nail, rolling over onto her back, playing clueless. CHERRY COLA What d’you mean, what do I want? I want nothin’ more than your knightly lovin’ mono-gamy, Bohiem. Am I not allowed to compliment my fiancé’s penis? BOHIEM Any time that it strikes your fancy. But it does not ever strike your fancy unless you want something. CHERRY COLA I told you, I don’t want nothin’! Bohiem continues to wait. Cherry stares blankly for a moment with her pinky in her mouth. CHERRY COLA (CONT’D) I would like a Pepsi.

(CONTINUED)


7. CONTINUED: (3) BOHIEM There it is. Always something. Pepsi, crackers, pancakes, teddies. You’re lucky I’m subject to flattery. Bohiem signals to Cherry’s purse on the table. BOHIEM (CONT’D) (quarters in french accent) Qwartez? Be my guest.

CHERRY COLA

Bohiem goes through the purse and digs up a handful of quarters. He gets up and walks over to the bed, hovering over Cherry. Pepsi.

CHERRY COLA (CONT’D)

Bohiem continues to stand there. He begins to lean over her, as if he was going to fall on top of her. CHERRY COLA (CONT’D) Get outta here and get me some fizz! Bohiem tumbles like a building on top of Cherry in a halfstoned kissing and tickling frenzy. Cherry screams in ticklishness. He stops, quickly stands up with a disgruntled head of hair, and gives a salute. BOHIEM I shall return with your pop, my pop. CUT TO: EXT. MOTEL / SODA MACHINE - NIGHT Bohiem stands in front of the glowing soda machine. His eyes are closed as he listens intoxicatedly to the machines hum. He sways around a bit. His eyes open back up as he continues his mission: (CONTINUED)


8. CONTINUED: Pepsi.

BOHIEM

He strokes four quarters into the machine and clicks out a Pepsi. It thunks into the dispenser. He reaches down to pick it up and falls backwards onto his ass. He grumbles a chuckle, stands back up, and enters four more quarters, standing flabbergasted by option shock. He covers his hand over his eyes, swirls around his pointer finger and blindly hits one of the buttons. The can thunks into the dispenser, Bohiem scoops it up. BOHIEM (CONT’D) Why is it always you, orange soda? Armed with two sodas, he turns around to return to the room but freezes instantly, his eyes locked forward. He sees someone or something we can’t see. Bohiem’s face flushes with utter fear. in attempt to utter something--

His mouth moves

BOHIEM (CONT’D) The painting it-The quick SNAP of a silenced pistol cuts Bohiem short. His head WHIPLASHES into the soda machine, leaving a spatter of blood. His body drops to the ground, the soda cans rolling out from his limp hands and across the pavement. Footsteps walk away. CUT TO: EXT. MOTEL - MOMENTS LATER Focused closely on a single lit window, the light goes out. CHERRY COLA (muffled through the window) Bohiem? A group of quick bright flashes. Silence. (CONTINUED)


9. CONTINUED: After a few moments, the sound of footsteps walk across the parking lot. Then, though still unidentifiable, a man on a bicycle rides past the window holding Gustav Klimt’s painting under his arm. Silently, he glides past Bohiem’s dead body, and out of the parking lot.


Mojave (sample)