SHISH-KABOB STORY a screenplay by Mark Charles
INT – JANE’S HOUSE – LIVING ROOM – NIGHT
A young professional woman is sitting comfortably at a desk in her living room, which looks very much like an office; writing desk, bookshelves, stacks of papers, piles of
files, several Hershey Chocolate Syrup tins filled with pens and pencils. As JANE reads a magazine she fumbles with an orange underliner while rubbing her shoeless foot on the edge of the desk. She is working late into the night, again.
(Thinking out loud)
Oh jeesh, why don’t these people just give it up?
There are at least eighteen of these damn poetry
journals and I gotta read through every one of ‘em
six times a year.
Jane is taking pamphlets and magazines from a stack on one side of her desk, and
after sifting through it, puts them in a pile on the other side of the desk.
The CAMERA WIDE SHOT on Jane yawning and stretching, angles over to the desk
where Jane sits working. PULLS IN TIGHT on the Poetry Journal as Jane’s hand appears into the camera shot. Her hand picks up the “New Americans’ Journal of
New American Poetry” and opens it. The CAMERA HOLDS ON Jane’s hands as she
opens the booklet and begins to peruse through it, turning pages rapidly.
My oh my. What horse-shit. Geesh.
Oh here’s one with an okay title.
“Shish-Kabob Story” by Mark Charles.
As Jane reads the poem out loud, CAMERA PANS the room, coming to rest on Jane’s face by the end of the poem.
(speaking out loud with mock seriousness)
… I WAS A COW
ON THE HIGHWAY OF LIFE
WHEN HERE COMES A SEMI
OVER THE CREST OF THE HILL
THE JAKE- BREAK CAME ON
AS HE LET UP ON THE GAS
BUT HE DIDN’T EVEN DOWN – SHIFT
AS THE HEADLIGHTS SPEARED ME
Oh man. What crap.
The CAMERA begins to slowly pull away, showing Jane sitting alone, reading,
turning pages, holding her head and muttering to herself.
Where do they get this shit, anyway?
Man oh man.
CAMERA pulls away as Jane shakes her head and then grabs another poetry journal and then goes to black.