Part II. The Debacle

INT. A coffee shop in Greenwich Village.

Lorraine sits at a small, two-person marble top table. The cafe is full, with many people on Macbooks. A few groups are discussing the World Cup. At a bar stretching across the back wall, the barista makes drinks. Lorraine types on her Macbook, checks her phone, and looks blankly at a piece of paper--her assignment sheet for the last few projects she has done.

LORRAINE
Good god. I have three hours to kill before I start editing. What am I going to do in that time...

Looks around sneakily at other people in cafe.

LORRAINE CONT
I feel like such a conformist with this new Macbook Pro. Almost every kid in here has one. Apple is taking over the world. Pauses. This is the last week of my film class. I'm done tomorrow, thank god. This week has been horrendous...

II
INT. Lorraine's apartment

Kyle is crouched on the floor, his mouth full of chocolate syrup. The living room is completely empty except for the skeleton of the futon, which is propped on its side against the wall. Lorraine is leaning against one of the walls, in a white tee-shirt covered in chocolate syrup stains. Her jeans shorts are smeared as well. She is sweating profusely, as the air conditioner is unplugged and three hot lights are set up on the opposing wall. Her Director of Photography, Ingrid, is standing behind the camera.

INGRID
Rolling!

Kyle begins to look panicked. He gags and suddenly spits out a mouthful of chocolate syrup onto the floor. His mouth is dripping with it. Ingrid gags and turns away from the camera.

LORRAINE
Ingrid! Cover the diopter!...All right. Cut. To Kyle. What the hell was that? Now my story is completely off-track. Why would you spit out blood everywhere?

KYLE
Laughter. He is crouched on the floor. Wipes his face with a tissue.
Because. It was cinematic.

INGRID
I can't take another take of that. That was disgusting.

LORRAINE
What am I supposed to do now?

Ingrid considers for a moment. Kyle shrugs. Lorraine squats and contemplates the puddle of spitty syrup.

KYLE
laughs. Lick it up. Do a close up of your tongue.

LORRAINE
After a pause. Okay. With emphasis. That's cinematic. What's more cinematic than a blood-covered girl licking up spitty blood off a dirty hardwood floor?

INGRID
Are you serious?

LORRAINE
Yeah. Let's do it.

Ingrid takes the camera off the tripod. She moves closer for the take.

INGRID
Rolling!

Lorraine squats down next to the puddle. She closes her eyes, attempts to grin maniacly, and leans over. Her tongue hits the syrup and she tries not to gag. She licks it up so it drips off her tongue, holds it for a moment

LORRAINE
yells. Cut!

She spits out the chocolate syrup onto the floor and runs for the kitchen.

INT. Coffee shop.

LORRAINE
That was gross. I hope Boris gives me credit for effort, at least. I gotta edit all night tonight to finish my film in time. AND I'm adding sound. Too ambitious? Maybe. We'll see.