"FWIFFO"
FADE IN:
INT. HOSPITAL ROOM - DAY
(JOHN, MARSHA)
MARSHA, A PRETTY YOUNG WOMAN, RECLINES IN A HOSPITAL BED BY A
SMALL BEDSIDE TABLE. SHE'S ATTACHED TO AN I.V. DRIP AND A
BEEPING HEART MONITOR.
JOHN ENTERS FROM A DOORWAY, CARRYING A BOUQUET OF FLOWERS.
MARSHA SMILES.
JOHN
What did the doctor say?
MARSHA
About the heart condition?
Inoperable.
JOHN
How long do you have?
MARSHA
Weeks. Minutes. No one knows.
JOHN
You're dying, Marsha?
MARSHA
I am dying, John.
JOHN PLACES THE FLOWERS ON THE BEDSIDE TABLE.
JOHN
There's something.
MARSHA
I'm listening.
JOHN
I love you, Marsha.
MARSHA BEAMS.
JOHN (CONT'D)
Wait a minute. That's not all.
MARSHA
Yes?
JOHN
I want to have sex with you, Marsha.
MARSHA
Well, that's very kind of you, John,
but...
JOHN
I've been thinking about this for a
long time. I definitely want to have
sex with you.
MARSHA
John, I'm dying.
JOHN
Of course. How silly of me. Silly
and rude.
(a beat)
Are you going to die very soon?
MARSHA
I don't know. I hope not. The doctor
said soon.
JOHN
Do you think, then, Marsha...
MARSHA
Yes, John?
JOHN
Do you mind if I have sex with you
after you die?
MARSHA
What?!
JOHN
I mean, you'll be dead, after all...
MARSHA
I mind that idea quite a lot. That is
a very, very bad idea, John.
JOHN
Yes, you're right. Awful, terrible
idea. Please forgive me, dear.
A BEAT, THEN MARSHA LAUGHS NERVOUSLY.
MARSHA
Yes, can you imagine? The doctor
comes by and finds you in bed with my
body.
JOHN
Actually, I have that all planned out.
JOHN QUICKLY EXITS THE DOORWAY AND IMMEDIATELY RETURNS,
DRAGGING A LARGE STEAMER TRUNK.
JOHN (CONT'D)
I got this trunk. There's a motel
down the street.
After you die I can put your body in
this trunk, get you to the motel, have
sex, get your body back here, all
within forty-five minutes.
MARSHA
John.
JOHN
Yes?
MARSHA
You see that I'm dying?
JOHN
Yes.
MARSHA
Under no circumstances, living or
dead, will I have sex with you. The
idea is thoroughly disgusting to me.
Utterly repellent.
JOHN
Yes. Of course. I'm being
thoughtless, darling. Completely
unforgivable.
MARSHA
Let us drop the subject.
JOHN
What if it wasn't me having sex with
you?
MARSHA
Oh dear God.
JOHN
What if it was a Pomeranian in a clown
costume?
MARSHA
John--
JOHN
I would be completely across the room,
videotaping--
MARSHA
JOHN!!
JOHN SNAPS TO ATTENTION. MARSHA IS FURIOUS.
MARSHA (CONT'D)
Listen to me, you twisted monkey! You
sick little bestial necrophiliac freak
boy! I'm not going to be stuffed into
a trunk and hauled off to a motel!
And I'm not going to be rogered by
some Pomeranian while you videotape
it, you perverted stinking orangutan!
Under no condition... Condition...
THE HEART MONITOR EMITS A STEADY SHRILL TONE. MARSHA DIES.
JOHN
Marsha?
JOHN GENTLY KISSES MARSHA'S HAND. HE OPENS THE STEAMER TRUNK
AND LIFTS OUT A POMERANIAN IN A CLOWN COSTUME. HE WAGGLES
THE DOG'S PAW IN A BYE-BYE GESTURE.
JOHN (CONT'D)
Come on, Fwiffo. Let's go home.
JOHN DRAGS THE TRUNK AND THE DOG THROUGH THE DOOR.
FADE TO BLACK.