Little Man - Act 1 / Part 1

Ready one, two, three, Save Little Little Man.
Wooo well Rocket.
Little Man written by Charmaine Kolino. Fade in exterior suburban
park day, Ducks glide on the pond, Strollers and joggers
go by, puppy training, tai Chi kid's toss of football,
a peaceful Sunday thrash, metal blast in the distance. It
gets louder. Ducks scatter, babies cry, puppy's howl, Leisha's tangle.
The tai Chi master loses his floor. Total chaos. Doug
Evans thirty white rocks out in a beat up car,
Megadeth's shirt, Dodger's hat. Three day Beard could clean up
well if he cared. He flips a cigarette out the window.
Check's phone text for Metho.
Trash day tomorrow. Please don't knock over the bins again.
Trash day tomorrow, Please don't knock over the bins again.
Damn.
A football bounces right in front of Doug's car.
Shit.
He pulls over, gets out, grabs the rogue football. Three
kids eight to nine shout and wave to him. Doug
grins motions for the kids to back up for a
long pass. They do. He raises the football and hops
in the car and drives off with it. The kids shouted,
bolt after the car. The chase is on in rear
view mirror. The kids run like crazy. Doug almost feels bad.
Break lights go bright, the car stops. Bumper sticker. My
dog is smarter than your honor student. Doug holds the
football out the window with one hand. The kids catch up.
Almost there, Doug hits the gas, The car surges, the
kids scream. The chase continues. One kid eats it. Doug cackles.
He speeds away, leaving the pistoup kids panting in the street.
In car, Doug tosses the football into the back seat
onto a pile of soccer balls, baseballs, basketballs. He's done
this before. Exterior Center Point, mal Day, Suburban retail, Paradise, Cineplex,
Olive Garden. Doug's car swerves into the parking lot, takes
up two spaces. Interior Burrito Boss Mall, Food Court, Day
Mexican Fast Food. Doug cuss to the front the line
where Robbie seventeen LATINX bright Friendly takes orders.
Welcome to Burrito Boss number six to so amigo.
I'd be happy to get that for you.
Points to name tag and it's.
Robbie, you speak English.
Robbie ignores the insult, smiles, keeps it professional.
Number six Bacon burrito combo with bacon, guac and pico
de bacon.
You're English is like really good, dude.
Beat.
Arn, We're out of bacon, but you'll love the new
Grande Burrito del Tonto. Not on the menu yet free.
You demand Roberto Kitchen threeteen workers sixteen to eighteen keep
the orders moving.
Brito del Tonto the teen's freeze with precision.
They form an assembly line. Teen one plops beans on
a tortilla. Team two adds guac cheese. Teen three sticks
a hand down his pants to his crutch. Later, food court,
Doug beats an amputee sixty on crutches to the last seat.
He devours his burrito every bite, locks his fingers. Later,
elevator packed, Doug eye'es a cute woman nineteen. He flirts,
mouths high, a pubic hair in his teeth roath. She
scoots further away, a fart squeaks pass wins. The woman
covers her nose, glares at Doug, who points to an
old lady eighty five next to him. Doors open, passengers
can't exit fast enough alone. Doug lifts a leg thunderous
farts relief interior Phone King day on purple banner, low prices,
big pham King deals, odd mashup of T mobile and
medieval times, frazzled sails. Reps twenty to thirty in purple
shirts can't keep up with the throngs of excited shoppers.
Two reps hustle to restock a display.
This is whack. What's the deal?
I don't know, but check that out.
Shoppers swarm for selfies with a creepy looking mannequin and
medieval wear cedric phone King mascot. He has a big sword.
Where's Doug?
Employee? Breakroom couches, lockers? Doug rummages in the fridge, on
the bulletin board. Manager of the Month. Tyler Fogel Store
thirty eight. Behold the rising Stars photo, big smile, fuzzstache,
huge boobs, graffited and black marker on his Oxford. Not
some lame middle schooler doodles. These have shading and perspective.
Doug slurps Chinese takeout, not his fingers covered in black marker.
Sales floor. Tyler twenty five unlocks a display case. He's
got the style, swagger and sensible footwear of retail management.
Doug Mott kneels at his feet.
What is thy bidding? My master?
You're thirty seven minutes late.
I changed the tireper an old lady corporate called my office.
Now he weaves through the crowd and around shoppers, posing
for Cedric self's Doug takes in the chaos, smirks later.
Tyler's office a phone king shrine is a portrait of
a businessman seventies and a huge crown on the brass plate.
Dave Wang Founder at his desk. Tyler steeple's fingers. Doug
lounges in a chair, plays it cool.
Last night your Instagram posts.
Holds up his phone. It's a selfie of Doug and
Cedric holding his big sword at his crotch like a
giant phallus.
Apparently hashtag big phone King deal is blowing up on
social media.
Engagement shit storm sweet.
Mister Wang is impressed by the out of the box
rogue marketing stunt.
Doug leans forward. This is his moment.
It's getting shoppers back in the store.
Check it out.
A memes on Doug's phone scroll memes of people having
fun with gripping big objects at crotch level, just like
Cedric's big sword, bats, lightsabers, pool noodles, hashtag big phone
king deal. Doug grins with pride.
A very risky move, one that could have backfired badly.
Totally right. I got a lot more amazing ideas. Hey,
my ray's going to be on this paycheck for the
next Doug.
You're a loose cannon. I have to let you go.
Doug's face falls. He stands, disappointed, angry, screw this bullshit.
Interior Doug's room, Ethan's house, day, Doug's cave, a pig
sty video game console, beer cans, posters of thrash metal
bands and bikini girls. Doug dozes on a mattress. Beside him,
a pile of fast food containers rustling in the pile,
glimpse of a ratty tail. A tiny dog pops out,
patchy hair, rat like tail, pizza in his mouth. It's fugly.
He truly lives up to his name. Doug wakes, hey,
don't eat that. He pries away the stale slice and
eats it. Fugly. Bark's protest hops on Doug's belly they share.
FuG old man fucked up again.
He scratches the dog's head, heavy sigh a side of Doug.
He doesn't like to show vulnerability, but.
You still love me.
Huh.
Fugly licks his face. Doug cracks a sad smile. Fugly
leaps down, barks and paws at messy shells by the mattress.
Doug ignores him. Fugly persists. Doug groans, reaches for a
box under some hustlers. Fugly sniffs it, wags his tail.
Exterior Ethan's house day Evolvo pulls into the driveway of
a craftsman bungalow curbside as a knocked over trash bin
by Doug's car. Interior Doug's room day box opened, contents
on floor, pencils, markers, tabbed books, dozens of old sketch pads.
Doug flips through one, reveal pages of axe wielding warriors,
badass amazons with heaving bosoms, biomechanical reptilian yeasts, aliens, and
Fugly in a dodger's hat, all rendered with skill and artistry.
Sound of a door shutting. Doug shoves his stuff in
the box glimpse of a book title, Make Creativity, Make Money.
Box goes back on the shelf, where there's an old
photo of two boys eight at Dodger Stadium, a chubby,
cheek slob and a nerding glasses A girl eleven photo
bombs Bunny years behind them. Done later, kitchen tidy, stylish
at the table. Ethan Reyes thirty, Filipino American types on
a laptop, clean cut, handsome in glasses. Ralph Lauren meets
Charles Swab. He SIPs a hard seltzer. Doug grabs Cheetos
on top of the fridge, pours some into Fugly's bowl.
The dog munches.
Fucking twatwaffle Tyler. He doesn't get it.
We're at a mail pops a beer, chugs. Ethan pauses typing,
tell me you didn't get fired. Nah, let go door bell.
Fugly bark's crazy.
Okay.
The dog hushes, darts down the hall and into Doug's
room foyer. It's Priya Patel, thirty, Indian American, smart, stunning.
She smiles, holds up a foil wrap tray. Look what
need Ethan kisses.
Her, young can't wait, and Doug's home.
Kitchen Doug jumps cheetos. Ethan and Priya enter, Hello, Doug,
how are you.
Awesome?
We can always add one.
Awesome?
Great?
Would you like a samosa?
She lifts the foil. Doug winces at the fried dumplings.
They smell so good.
Priya's grandma made them preauplates.
Two for Doug. He shoves one in his mouth.
Good, right, try the chutney.
Priya opens a container of pulpy green sauce.
Oh, that's gonna give me the show. Nice to see you.
Gotta go.
She grabs Ethan's hand be lines to the door. Doug
watches them wistfully and farts. He pokes at the samosas
sticks cheetahs inside of one. Sound of a door shutting muffled. Arguing,
Ethan returns.
Doug, we need to talk. There's something I've been wanting to.
I know you're gay, it's cool, I'm not.
Would you just listen for a minute, everything about working
on your social skills, be nicer?
Why it's a real question. Ethan's frustration grows.
No one likes you.
Lots of people like me.
Okay, name one person, one.
Diamond, Coco Asia, Bambie sugar rippers get paid to like you.
Ricky the bouncer who you tip.
Doug tosses a cheeto stuffed somosa to fugly.
Fine Prias Pria is only nice to you because I
told her you're a little special.
Uh special, as in Ethan fiddles with his Seltzer. Guilty.
You told her I'm rich on the spectrum. It's the
only way she put up with you. Look, we've been
friends a long time. I'm your only friend ever.
Wonder why well, seeing as I'm special, Nope.
For a good looking guy, you can't keep a girl
more than one date.
I'm cool, you're gay.
Seriously, you don't finish what you start, Like night school
homework sucks.
You've been let go from ten jobs now eleven in
five years.
Your point is you act like a thoughtless.
Irresponsible prick common courtesy.
What's that you're lion cheat?
You still hit people?
Your beonce sister had it coming.
In twenty two years, I've never heard you say I'm
sorry put you up to this.
You're a perpetual child. Whoa up that stings? Doug stops out.
Foyer, Doug, Come on, the prick has left the building.
You don't have to be a prick. I'm trying to help.
I'm your friend, Are you Ethan? Or am I just
your retarded charity case? Fuck you porch. Doug bursts out
the door. Then Ethan bursts out the door.
Come back, let's talk about this.
I only said those things because I care. Damn it, dog,
don't do it.
Doug keeps on walking, Ethan retreats, slams the door. The
old neighbors, the Lewises eighties observed from their porch swing.
Missus Lewis turns her hobby nods knowingly. Interior booby trap
club day, dark skeezy music thumps. Doug Enters takes in
the scene home safe ricky thirties, the burly bouncer fist bumps.
Doug, who let the dog out?
Good, I don't.
Know your boss? Out of piss, king of phones.
Fan fucking fantastic.
They do a boxing move. Doug slides him a bill,
gets escorted to a VIP table. Sugar twenties saschet is
over in a skimpy.
Outfit off work.
Early Dougie, I'm celebrating my promotion, waives a credit card.
Sugar shimmis. Three more strippers twenties run over to join
the fox.
Let's get this party started.
Club music cranks louder. Exterior Booby Trap Club Day Super.
Three hours later, the door swings outward. Doug exits, fist
bumps rickey. He shuffles off, singing and gyrating.
Hmmm, whoorso sugar on me ah in the name of
loved or some.
Sugar on me later player.
Later Ali Still singing, Doug stumbles along. He slows to
a trudge, quiets and stops. Anger flashes across his face.
He kicks a beer can, falls on his ass. Doesn't
get up.
I'm the fucking King of phones.
Hangs his head. The faint chimes of an ice cream
truck tinkle in the distance. Doug lifts his head. Exterior
suburban street day, Kids four ten swarm an old ice
cream truck and blazoned with the mister Chili logo, a
happy walrus and a hat and bow tie. Doug wades
through the kids. A girl eight steps.
Up to order what can I get for you?
Miss cuts in front.
Pullet, peach popsicle?
Hey, what's your problem?
Mister Doug ignores the girl. The kids glared daggers in
the truck window is Carl seventies. Black If Morgan Freeman
were an ice cream man, good natured, wise, twinkle in
his eye. He sports an old school ice cream man's uniform.
There's a line, young man.
It's for my kid. He's sick.
Carl looks to the girl for the Okay, she nods.
Carl digs in the freezer case, but he's no fool.
All out of polar peach.
Damn, it's my kids favorite. Then I'll take a.
Shit A uh language, young man.
He scans the treat menu. Kids sigh, hurry up today,
et cetera.
Super lemon snowball sold the last one.
Okay, BlackBerry Blizzard back ordered.
Cloud Burst cream recalled the steria glacier good.
No can do vanilla ice ice.
Maybe.
Carl digs in the freezer case again. Doug Bounce is
hopeful the crowd has dwindled to nothing. Carl comes up empty.
You don't have to ship on a shingle, reads name
tag Carl.
You don't have ship on a sh oh. I was like,
you don't have to.
I don't have to ship roofs.
You don't have ship on a shingle, reads name tag Carl.
Beat. I have just the thing for you.
He digs and surfaces with a sparkling, swirly blue pops
Doug is mesmerized. The plastic wrapper twinkles in the light.
Printed on the wrappers an image of a little boy
under an umbrella. Rain bounces off of it.
El Nino, a limited edition classic, guaranteed to take you back.
What flavor is it?
Blue?
Not a flavor, It's a color like orange.
Doug's got nothing. Carl chuckles, then looks Doug in the eye.
I guess you still got a lot to learn.
Okay, Boomer, how much on the.
House for you, little boy?
Moments later, on truck rear bringing out the child in
you since nineteen seventy two. The truck drives off, tinkling
music fades. Doug sits on the curve, devouring the blue popsicle.
He WinCE his brain freeze. Doug's pov sparkly double vision.
Exterior Ethan's House, night lips stained blue. Doug stares at
Ethan's empty parking spot. Interior Doug's bedroom Day Doug snores,
still in his clothes from the night before. Interior Ethan's room.
Day.
Creighton Beryl to Doug's frat house on the desk is
a framed old photo just like Doug's. Doug peaks in
no ethan he didn't come home. Exterior big top Burger Day,
the old circus theme. Burger joined has seen better days.
Burnt out neon lights read big tp urge. Drive through
Doug's car a sad clown thirties works the order window.
Doug checks his phone, no texts, no voicemail. He flings
it outo the seat. Exterior suburban street Doug's car day,
traffic jam. Doug leans out the window, Orange cones ahead
in Doug's car thrash, metal blasts burger in one hand,
steering Will and other. Doug flips a U turn, detours
onto a tree lined street on yellow side, slow school zone.
Doug fumbles the burger. It lands on the floor. He
reaches playing soccer ball, bounces off his hood. Doug breaks
fast food flies.
Everywhere, part of a bitch.
He pulls over, gets out, sees that the dents old
dents Hey, mister, can you.
Get our ball under that car?
Two kids seven eight stand behind a chain link school fence.
You little twat waffles Ben in my hood. This car's
a classic is.
A third kit appears wyat seven, small sweet bully prey.
Can you get our ball?
Please?
Innocent eyes on Doug. Ethan's words echo in Doug's head.
You don't have to be a.
C Doug groans gives in. He crawls under a car, reaches.
He emerges with the soccer ball. The kid's cheer. He
raises the ball to toss it over the fence and freezes.
Looks at the ball in his hand. He's never returned one.
You don't have to be a preak.
Doug thinks, and thinks, give him the.
Ball already.
Two good motherfucker.
Doug tosses the ball over it gets Kid one in
the face.
Thanks mister.
The kids scamper off. Wyatt looks back, waves a Doug.
Doug waves two. Goofy smile. He shrugs, turns to his car.
Gone what the screaks down the block. Doug's car turns
the corner.
Shit stained cornhole cocksucker.
Doug chases his stolen car. Sparkly double vision returns chimes
of an ice cream truck. Doug rounds the corner, eyes widen,
flash of a mister Chili truck breaks, squeal impact, darkness.
Interior hospital day Doug's POV. Eyes slowly open regain consciousness.
A fuzzy image comes into focus. It's a woman, long
wild hair, come hither eyes. She wears the armored corset
of a badass Amazon warrior princess, wielding a mighty spear.
She winks. Doug's hallucination vanishes, is replaced by the angelic
face of Julia Jones twenty seven. Multiracial. She's adorable in
a sweater and pearls. She smiles, then runs to the door.
Comb back, combe back.
His voice sounds high. He's awake. Doug's POV. Bed railings
monitors a hospital room. A nurse enters, pink stethoscope, crayon,
panttered scrubs. Nurse Cora forty five Filipina is in charge,
all five feet of.
Her our patients.
Finally up, she takes his pulse Doug's POV. His arm
is wiry, skinny.
What the fuck mouth, young man?
What's your name?
Throat clearing sound, Doug, Doug, I'm Julia.
We want to help.
A big orderly enters with a tray. It's Ricky from
Booby Trap.
Ready for some grub, Boss, Ricky dog O.
Ricky does a double take.
Will be back.
She leaves with Julia. Ricky sets the food on a table.
You work here, sure do. Let's see what we got.
He lifts the plate cover, revealed tater tots, carrots, and
brown nuggety things die.
No nuggets.
Dang, I forgot the jello.
I'm on a boss.
No, it's okay, stay here.
Ricky exits.
Wait, I'm coming with you.
He pulls off the blanket and gasps in horror.
Gasp in horror.
Bathroom Doug's POV mirror sink. Everything is too high. Little
feet step onto an overturned wastebasket in the mirror, a
little boy version. Doug stares back, holy shit, Now give me,
give me an alternate where you're like, holy shit, you know,
kind of coasty, Holy shit, Messy hair, chubby cheeks, just
like in the old photo. He opens his mouth, a
big gap where two front teeth should be.
Ah.
He peers down, slowly opens his pajama bottoms. Nurses station
Cora on phone. Julia holds up a Teddy Bear for
her to see.
No one more, give me one.
It's a bit extended.
Yeah, well it's like whoa.
Like they hear through the entire hospital.
No.
They dashed down the hall toward the commotion. Doug's hospital room.
No quick cuts exterior hospital, exterior traffic jam, freeway, exterior city, exterior,
Earth from space. Back in the room, Doug weeps on
the floor fetal position.
My Dick, I want shoot friends, Bowie.
I like it, but a little more.
Crying first, give me a couple of seconds.
He has an ugly cry.
My Dick, I wouldn't shoot.
One more time.
Don't.
Don't throw away my one true friend.
Don't. Don't just try to get it out, try to
keep it, keep it going.
You wouldn't shoot friends.
Sound of voices, Doug sits up. Cora and Julia rush in.
They see Doug asleep in his bed, food untouched. Julia
tucks the Teddy Bear under his arm.
Poor thing didn't eat.
He's scared.
He's alive because of you.
What happens now?
Cora pulls the privacy curtain around the bed. It will
be put into foster care by.
End of day.
Doug's eyes pop open. Later, Ricky returns with green jellow
in a bedpan, opens curtain.
I'm back, boss, need the way way.
Elevators on blue balloons tied to the wheelchair of Missus
Johnson thirty eight. Dazed and exhausted. She holds a newborn
in a blue blanket. Mister Johnson, forty, pushes her a
smiley sweater vest. Church Dad encircled by a tornado of
eight loud boys to deny boy need the huge family
squeezes into the elevator. Boy Nato fights to push buttons.
Glimpse of chewchoo pajamas. Doors close exterior hospital entrance day.
In the loading zone, Missus Johnson and boy Nato climb
aboard a big passenger van the size of an airport shuttle.
Ricky in a security guard forties burst out the doors.
Inside van, boy Nato bedlam, punching, teasing, crying toys fly over,
rows of seats. Hot wheels are hurled to the back
of the van. Doug dodges them, Giggling from a car
seat beside him. A toddler Malachi two, holds out a
goldfish cracker to Doug. Doug looks out the window. The
search party searches hospital parking lot. The Johnson's van rolls
out the exit. In the window, Doug's face is pressed
to the glass, sneaky grin a shower of goldfish. Crackers
land on his head. Interior van moving day. Mister Johnson
drives immune to the mayhew. His wife weeps silently. Doug
scans the street, signs crackers in his hair.
Hey kids, how about a Johnson family sing along and
welcome your new baby brother.
They sing the most annoying Sunday school song on.
Earth, Abraham and he sounds man, he sounds.
So are you right?
Hands on ears. Doug screams he's drowned out by the singing.
Projectile pukes, flatters his face. He gangs. Malachi claps. Exterior
Johnson's House day. The van pulls into a two story colonial.
They're still singing. Exterior Johnson's backyard day, war zone of
toys and boys. Doug blends ride in. He surveys the yard,
spots bikes by a locked gate. Interior kid's bedroom night,
lights out, Quiet boy Nato sleeps, bunny slippers, tiptoe. Doug
steps on a squeaky toy by a crypt. Malachi wakes,
Doug makes a motion, gives him the toy. I use,
mother Buker. Exterior Johnson's backyard night. Doug picks a lock
with a fork, mounts a bike he can't reach the pedals.
Exterior suburban streets night, sound of rumbling bunny slippers, power
of big wheel. Doug barrels down the sidewalk on the
red plastic tricycle. He spots a police car, rolls behind
a bus stop bench. The police car passes. Doug rolls
out interior. Ethan's room, night lights dimmed. Ethan sits in
a chair in just boxers and a necktie. Yeah, Priya
in sexy lingerie. It's a clipboard and pen Ah.
These numbers don't add up, mister Cuddles, you've been very naughty.
Oh, don't fire me, boss, I'll do anything.
Banging on the front door interrupts the fun. Moments later,
foyer Ethan trudges to the door. Ethan looks in the people,
no one. He turns away, louder, banging, looks again, Still
no one. Doug's room. Fugly whinds and scratches the closed door.
Foyer.
Ethan opens the door. A boy in chetchoopajam is runs in,
heads straight for the kitchen. Ethan stumbles after him.
Hey, you and your stupid advice.
The boy opens the fridge, cracks a beer. Ethan grabs it. Kid.
This isn't your ass, white, it's me Doug, Ethan, Who
is it?
Uh?
No?
One beer?
Right there?
Honey?
The boy cracks another beer. Ethan yanks him from the fridge.
You don't live here, go home.
It's me, dumb ass a kidney.
Doug nut punches Ethan. Ethan gasps, goes down.
Agony hurts like hell huh, but it's even worse for
you and your triplets.
Climbs a chair to reach the Cheetos.
Little League fifth grade you had to get a custom
made cup for nut number free.
Plops on the floor by Ethan digs into the Cheetos.
How you can't be Oh, it's me, bitch, what's this?
Why are you on the floor. Priya stands there in
a skimpy black silk robe. Doug's head snaps to take
in the view. She ties her robe quickly.
My sister's kid. We were wrestling. She needs a babysitter.
Beats right now.
I like hugs.
Doug runs to Priya, hugs her around the middle, plants
his face right below her bosom awkward. Ethan hobbles over,
prized Doug off of her an orange Cheetoh dust imprint
of Doug's face left on Priya's robe. Later, Priya stomps
to the door dressed person hand Ethan trails mayo covered.
Doug shares a sandwich with fugy.
Let's not make this into a big deal.
Don't be murdered. Mister kodoles.
He makes puppy dog eyes, pulls Priya close. It works.
We'll go over the numbers tomorrow.
Priya's pov. Doug fondles his chest, makes obscene sucking motions
with his mouth. Exterior Ethan's house night, Priya's car peels out.
Ethan chases, gives up. Doug pops up next to him
with an empty jar outam mail.
Mister cuddles