Thursday, June 10, 2010

Confederacy of Dunces Screenplay





The following is an excerpt of a screenplay based on John Kennedy Toole's book. Contact Oggy Bleacher for option terms on the entire screenplay.


Fade in

INT. IGNATIUS’S INTESTINES:
We travel through the cramped and bloated intestinal tract of Ignatius J. Reilly, passing a half digested cream puff, a lump of chewing gum, a scrap of paper that says, “Jonathan Swift”, a puddle of syrupy fluid and some chunks of hot dog until we freeze at a complicated system of flaps labeled “Pyloric Valve”. The flaps trembles violently like a lid on a pot of boiling water before it slams closed with a bang. Gas and substance begin to back up behind the closed valve and we quickly rise through Ignatius’s intestines and esophagus and exit his cavity ravaged mouth as a monstrous belch.
EXT. CANAL STREET NEW ORLEANS - DAY
Ignatius is a 30 year old rolling bundle of fat, dressed head to toe in a fantastic array of functional but unfashionable clothes. He has a broad hunting cap with the ear flaps splayed out in either direction. His neck is wrapped in a long tweed scarf. His billowing corduroy pants are patched at the knees with curtain fabric. He wipes his mustache with a filthy handkerchief.

IGNATIUS
Mother, if you mention perogies once more, I shall faint.
MRS. REILLY
Aw, babe.
IGNATIUS
They are an abomination.
MRS. REILLY
Go on, Ignatius. How ‘bout one o’ them fine po’ boy sandies?
IGNATIUS
Oh, my God! Did I just hear you say Po Boy? Have we been transported to the story line of an insipid Mark Twain novella?
MRS. REILLY
Naw, baby, we still in N’awlins.
IGNATIUS
The mere fetid stench rising from the gutter would have reminded me of our regrettable location.
MRS. REILLY
That’s shrimp, ‘Natius. How ‘bout a mess of shrimp for lunch? I can fix it up boiled or however you like.
IGNATIUS
Mother, do I look like I’m in a condition to eat? My innards are in violent revolt as we speak. Those cream puffs were past their prime. You should demand an immediate refund.
MRS. REILLY
Boy, you done ate the whole box. I gonna return an empty box?
IGNATIUS
A minor detail in a legal case. That bakery should be sued for misrepresentation. The pastry was overcooked and there was a mere hint of cream filling. I demand justice!
MRS. REILLY
How ‘bout some Jambalaya?
IGNATIUS
My saliva glands are preparing my mouth for an onslaught of projectile vomit.
MRS. REILLY
What’s that, baby? That a yes or no?
IGNATIUS
A definitive no.

Mrs. Reilly examines Ignatius’s hat. She reaches out to take it and he bats her hand away.

MRS. REILLY
Why you gotta wear that hat? Ain’t you hot?
IGNATIUS
If you wish to discuss something as culturally decadent as fashion I suggest you visit the local hair salon or seamstress. Tasteless chatter is their native tongue.
MRS. REILLY
And that scarf!
IGNATIUS
Would you prefer I die of exposure?
MRS. REILLY
Exposure to what? The sun?
IGNATIUS
The scarf would be unnecessary if a scoundrel had not stolen my lumberjack coat. Its high collar was more than enough to protect me from disease and premature death.
MRS. REILLY
It’s a shame ‘bout that coat.
IGNATIUS
A thorough investigation by the authorities would bring my coat back to me but it’s disappearance is apparently not worthy of their time.
MRS. REILLY
I know it.
IGNATIUS
It just goes to show you that when one leaves the safety of one’s comfort zone he will be attacked on all sides by vipers and wastrels. I must devote some time to an essay on this subject.
MRS. REILLY
That’s a nice, smart boy. You would’a made your poppa proud.

The pair amble down the sidewalk.
Creative Commons License
Man in the Van by Oggy Bleacher is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License.