MRS. APPLEWOOD
Okay dear your all set for
class.
Kelvin looks up to see the way-to-happy woman smiling at
him.
KELVIN V.O.
Excellent. Everything’s
coming up Milhouse.
The music begins to swell. We swivel TIGHT ON a shot of
Kelvin’s binder page. He’s just drawn the Simpson’s
character Milhouse giving him the finger. As we pull out
of the swivel the music kicks in and Kelvin is in first
period.
MIX TO: A quick montage of Kelvin’s first day classes,
walking the halls, more sketching, finding his locker, and
the glares from fellow classmates throughout. The lunch
bell rings.
CUT TO:
INT: THE CAFETERIA
The wide-open room is lined with a plethora of large white
tables flanked by folding, matching benches. There is a
loud cacophony of talking above talking by the clutter of
students. The doors swing open. Kelvin enters.
The unwanted attention from the students is almost
immediate. As if in a minefield, Kelvin carefully
navigates the cafeteria.
He discreetly heads over to a vacant Coke Machine and slips
in four quarters. The clinking of the currency sounds like
gunshots in Kelvin’s ears as it draws even more attention
to himself. The thunk of the soda hits the trough below.
Kelvin picks it up and turns. Two hands slam him into the
red glowing plastic of the machine.
Kelvin finds his face inches away from Jordan.
START
JORDAN
How’s your first day going
Anus?
Kelvin winces.
KELVIN
Just great. Any of you guys
have a mint?
JORDAN
(confused)
What?
KELVIN
I didn’t know they were
serving hot garbage today.
How was it?
Jordan hauls back and strikes Kelvin in the midsection.
KELVIN (cont.)
(sputtering)
Shit. But seriously dude.
It smells like your balls
crawled in your mouth and
exploded.
Kelvin falls to one knee from another hit.
JORDAN
(whispering)
What’s wrong funny man? No
more jokes.
KELVIN
(gasping)
Okay. Don’t take the mint.
I’m sure the girls here are
intoxicated by the scent of a
moldy yeast infection.
Jordan rams him again.
JORDAN
Listen you little fuck. Some
of the kids here may think
you being from Hollywood
makes you hot shit but that
doesn’t make it so, got it?
You were a loser there and
you’re a loser here.
KELVIN
Well at least I’m consistent.
Jordan reels back one last time. He goes to strike. His
hand is caught from behind.
JANITOR
(clutching Jordan’s wrist)
Move along Davies.
Jordan’s surprise fades to forced arrogance.
JORDAN
Let go of me Mr. Clean
He rips his hand back.
JORDAN (cont.)
Shouldn’t you be washing my
shit out of the toilets or
something?
KELVIN
Why? Did you puke?
Jordan calculates the risk of continuing his assault on
Kelvin. The Janitor’s size is intimidating. The janitor
makes the decision for him.
JANITOR
(menacingly)
Move along.
Jordan’s nerve falters and, followed by his friends, he
saunters away.
JORDAN
See ya around Anus.
END
As if nothing’s happened, the janitor pulls out his keys
and reaches to insert them in the Coke Machine coin lock.
He drops the keys. With cat-like reflexes Kelvin snatches
the keys inches from the ground and hands them back over.