Flowerbox
An Animated Short Film
The Sketch
"Flowerbox" began as a sketch idea for a comedy show a group of us were working on back in the late 90s. Though we came up with a lot of funny material for the show, we never did anything with the pilot scripts we had produced. But the idea of doing a dark comedy spoofing boxing and mobster movies stuck in my mind, and during the summer of 2003 I finally wrote the script.
CLICK THE PLAY BUTTON BELOW TO WATCH THE FILM (14:46)
CAAP Grant
In 2004, I was invited to be a member of the Chicago Department of Cultural Affairs Community Arts Assistance Program panel. The following year, I applied for a grant and was given $800 to make a short film. I dusted off my script for "Flowerbox" and began pre-production.
The Illustrations
Originally, I thought to make a live action version of the film. But to make it what I wanted it to be, my meager budget was nowhere near enough. Then for a while I thought it might be possible to use my grant funds to create a two-minute Flash-animated teaser of the full script, which could then be used to attract funding to produce the remainder of the film. In the end, I decided to follow Jonathan O'Beirne's idea of producing the film as a "Reading Rainbow"-style short.
After placing an ad on the job board at the School of Visual Arts, we received a number of responses from students looking for a project to use in their portfolios. Kristen Terrana was by far the best choice for the project: her samples suited the style we were looking for and she offered to provide storyboard illustrations quickly and within our budget. Since Kristen was in New York and since Jonathan was the project's editor, Jonathan directed her in the creation of all the illustrations.
The Studio Session and Post-Production
Meanwhile, in Chicago, I arranged for a group of improv actors to play Emil Spiro, Uncle Charlie, Marcello, Ma, and the goons. All the actors had been taking classes at Second City, and they were a lot of fun to work with.
We rehearsed a few times, and recorded the voice tracks at the beginning of June 2005. Unfortunately, some of the cast members could not make it on the morning of the recording. Since I was about to move back to New York City and since we had already gotten a special "local artist" rate from Brella Studios in Evanston, the show had to go on. Christopher Rogala, my roommate and co-director of "We'll Always Have Metropolis," took over as Marcello. David Alm, another co-director of our Superman movie, played a goon and a referee. And I took over the role of Uncle Charlie, hoping that my first attempt at a Jimmy Durante impersonation would suffice.
The recording went off without a hitch, the illustrations were completed on schedule, and Jonathan edited them together. The project was completed $58 under budget.
Flowerbox
FADE IN:
EXT. POLO GROUNDS - NIGHT
A sidelong view of an outdoor boxing ring. Around it, visible
in the light from the ring, spectators CHEER and SHOUT at the
competing boxers.
SUPER the title: "Flowerbox"
The shot is black-and-white, and the spectators are wearing
late-1950s style clothing. Dancing, jabbing, and tiredly
dodging blows are EMIL SPIRO and PRODUS DEBROWSKI. At the
edge of the ring, Emil's UNCLE CHARLIE cheers him on. A radio
ANNOUNCER comments as the action ensues.
ANNOUNCER (VO)
It's only Round Four of this thrilling
fight, but I think it safe to say Emil
"Mutton-Fists" Spiro, possibly the
greatest boxer since the Manassa Mauler,
will take the day. Debrowski landed two
reeling punches in the Second, only to
reel himself beneath the smashing force
of Spiro's mean right hook in the Third.
Debrowski seems exhausted now, and Spiro,
delivering expertly, has landed some
devastating blows in the Fourth. And
that's the end of the round… There's a
massive crowd here at the Polo Grounds
for this magnificent bout, the majority
rooting for New York's own, Spiro.
Spiro's in his corner, getting advice
from his coach, Charles Dinkins… And
there's the bell to start Round Five.
Spiro charges into the ring. And, oh, he
lands a solid left, and another, and…
Spiro has Debrowski on the ropes, ladies
and gentlemen. He's really taking this
opportunity to end the fight. Debrowski
can't recover from this opening.
Debrowski--oh! Spiro strikes again
strongly! Debrowski is on the mat. The
referee is counting…
The REFEREE counts to ten, then grabs Emil's arm and
pronounces him the winner.
ANNOUNCER (V.O.) (CONT'D)
And that's the match! Emil Spiro, with
his tenth consecutive win, is on the fast
track to becoming the next middleweight
champion.
CUT TO:
INT. EMIL'S TRAINING ROOM - NIGHT
We see Emil's face in profile as he lies on a bench in his
training room, deep in thought. In soft focus behind him,
Charlie begins to UNWRAP the tape around Emil's wrists. OS
SOUNDS OF A CROWD can be heard.
CHARLIE
Ya gotta watch the hits ya take, but your
offence is jus' great! Emil, these fists
o' yers is made o' gold. Jeez, after
this, you gonna soar, Em. I'm tellin' ya!
EMIL
(with a crestfallen sigh)
I don't know. You and ma and everybody
keep tellin' me how great I am in the
ring. And I know I'm OK, but I… I jus'
don't wanna fight no more. I feel like I
been fightin' all my life. Sometimes I
think maybe these hands was meant for
something better…
Emil holds up his seemingly gloved fists.
CHARLIE
(laughing)
What, you wanna be a baseball player?
EMIL
Naw, 'ncle Charlie, I jus' mean-
CHARLIE
C'mon, Emil. You don't think these are
the hands of a born boxer, you gotta be
crazy!
INSERT - UNWRAPPING TAPE
Charlie unwraps some more tape and we see Emil is, in fact,
not wearing gloves at all. Due to a strange birth defect,
Emil was born with hands the size and shape of boxing gloves.
TRAINING ROOM
CHARLIE (CONT'D)
You know, God gives you a gift, ya gotta
'cept it. No two ways about it. Ya
motha, when she seen you come outta ha',
she thought to ha'self this was the
awfulest thing ever happened t'anybody.
But when she seen you grow up, she
realized you was a miracle. A miracle!
Whatd'ya mean talking about you wanna be
something else in life? You might as well
say you don't wanna be your own motha's
son!
EMIL
But, Uncle Charlie, a boxer's something I
ain't.
CHARLIE
What'd ya motha do without ya, huh?
Without ya boxin'? And ya baby sista, who
has a chance to get outta here because of
you. Yer the breadwinner! I know it's
tough. I know it's real tough. But I seen
ya deal with worse than this. Growing up,
the only white kid in Harlem, that's
tough. What happened with ya pops, that's
tough. But this, this is small potatoes…
I'll always be ya uncle Charlie, kid, but
now I'm ya coach, and I'm tellin' ya, ya
gotta get out of this slump. 'Cept what
ya was made for, stay out there and fight
for ya motha, ya sista, ya uncle Charlie.
For crying out loud, kid, yer the first
winner this family ever had!
EMIL
All right, all right, Uncle Charlie!
Jeez!
Emil pulls on a robe and goes to a nearby sink to wash the
red paint off his hands.
INSERT - BOXING GLOVE HANDS
Emil rubs his mitten-like hands together, and the paint
rinses off, GURGLING in a swirl down the drain.
TRAINING ROOM
CHARLIE
Ya got a fight comin' up next weekend in
Staten Island. Now, it's a real important
fight, but don't get too worried about it
--the guy ya fightin's practically a
welta'weight.
EMIL
Then why the heck am I fightin' 'im for?
CHARLIE
An I-talian friend o' mine downtown set
it up… Don't worry why--all ya need to
know is that this friend of ours is "a
gonna make-a us a lota money."
EMIL
Aw, c'mon, Uncle Charlie. I don't feel so
right about working for no goon-types,
all right? It's crummy business, and I
ain't--
CHARLIE
Whoa, whoa, whoa… Who said anything about
goons, eh? I say "I-talian," you think
"goomba." Paying for ya sista's college
is what ya should be thinking 'bout!
EMIL
(hanging his head)
Sure, Uncle Charlie. Sure…
Emil gazes down shamefully at his oversized FISTS.
CUT TO:
INT. SPIRO KITCHEN - MORNING
The kitchen of this tiny two-bedroom apartment gives way to a
tiny living room, where Emil sits at a TV tray. In front of a
small, 1950s TV is a playpen, in which little JANEY, too old
for a playpen, BEATS two dolls together. We come up with Emil
on camera as his MA runs between the stove and her son,
placing food before him: a plateful of bacon, a pitcher of
raw eggs, a huge mug of black coffee, and a stack of
pancakes.
Lacking individual fingers, Emil must use both hands to pick
up his mug, and he spills it in his lap.
EMIL
Janey, could ya cut the racket!… Ma!
Can't ya see I don't want none of this
stuff.
MA
C'mon, baby! You gotta eat for tonight.
Y'uncle Charlie'll be over at five-
better start ya mornin' run.
EMIL
I ain't gonna. Can't ya see I hate this!
Raw eggs, bacon, runnin'… An' for what?
To beat some pipsqueak black 'n' blue in
front of a bunch of rich goons!
MA
I tell ya, I ain't never heard a boy
complain more than you, Emil. You got a
gift that other people'd kill for and all
you do--
EMIL
I don't need another lecture, Ma. First I
got Uncle Charlie on my back and now I
can't even relax in my own home without--
MA
All I'm sayin' is that we gotta be
thankful for what we got. And you
shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.
God gave--
EMIL
Ma, please! For cryin' out loud, I'm
tired a hearin' about what God gave me.
Emil tries again to pick up his mug but with little success.
Even worse is his attempt to hold a fork and knife. He is
visibly frustrated as he DROPS his utensils and THRUSTS
backward on the couch. Mrs. Spiro rushes over to help him.
MA
Now don't be like that, Em. Just ask when
you need a little help.
EMIL
I can beat a man to a pulp, but I can't
cut my own pancakes.
MA
Now, now…
She feeds him a forkful of pancake, then grabs the pitcher of
raw eggs and raises it to his lips.
MA (CONT'D)
(cooing)
There we are. Num, num. What would you do
without me, baby?
EMIL
Ma! Christ!
MA
Don't you take the Lord's name--
Emil quickly and awkwardly wipes a dribble of egg from his
chin with a cloth napkin, then stands up abruptly. His mother
is slightly shocked by the suddenness of his movements. Emil
stands tall, seen from below.
EMIL
I ain't no kid, ma… All right, listen, I
gotta run.
MA
Don't be out all day like--
EMIL
Yeah, "like every other day…" I know, I
know.
MA
Five o'clock, y'uncle Charlie said…
EMIL
Fine.
Emil grabs a towel and throws it around his neck, then opens
the door to leave.
MA (CU)
"Thanks for breakfast, Ma!"
EMIL
(grumbling)
Bye, Ma…
Emil's mother sighs and watches him leave with a look of
concern on her face. After the DOOR CLOSES behind him, she
looks at the pitcher of eggs. Trying a sip, she makes a
disgusted face, then starts to clear the TV tray.
EXT. HARLEM STREET - DAY
A "Rocky"-esque training sequence: Emil jogs down a typical
street in Harlem filled with the sounds of city life--HORNS,
TRAFFIC, etc. He stops now and then to shadow box or practice
some fancy footwork. He is sweating and he occasionally wipes
his face with his towel.
As he runs past the bakery, a doughy-faced MAN inside waves
to him excitedly. A few black PASSERS-BY watch him run past
with smiles on their faces. Emil is something of a local
celebrity. AD-LIB COMMENTS: "Hey Spiro!", "Yo, my man!", "You
go, brotha!" etc.
EXT. SPANISH HARLEM STREET - FOLLOW
Emil continues running, recognized by more PASSERS-BY AD
LIBBING IN SPANISH: "Hombre!", "Papi!", "Hola, champion!",
etc.
EXT. CENTRAL PARK - FOLLOW
As Emil reaches the top of Central Park, a STREET VENDOR
gives him a thumbs up and hands him a free glass of water.
Emil takes a sip and throws the rest on his face.
Following a path deeper into the park the SOUNDS of the city
FADE AWAY, Emil jogs through some thicker greenery. He does a
lap around the reservoir before continuing along another
path.
Finally, he comes to a beautiful garden. The flowers
themselves are in color. Emil slows to a stop, and a smile
creeps across his face. He is delighted by the flowers.
SERIES OF SHOTS - IN THE GARDEN
Emil gambols girlishly through the garden with arms
outstretched--his oversized hands dangling from the ends of
his arms like dumbbells. He does cartwheels and jumps. We
watch him dance from above slowly drifting downward and
closer to focus on his face as he presses blossoms to his
nose ecstatically.
INSERT - EMIL'S JOYFUL FACE
He has tears in his eyes, a look of almost crazed joy--his
broad grin reveals two rows of broken teeth.
CUT TO:
INT. SPIRO LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
Uncle Charlie sits with his Italian friend from downtown.
LIGHT MUSIC plays on the radio. Mrs. Spiro busily empties an
ashtray, and hands each of them an espresso.
MARCELLO is a huge Mob-type who dwarfs the chair he sits in,
holding daintily the tiny cup of espresso, which CLINKS as he
returns it to its saucer. He's the type that acts likes he
owns the place wherever he goes. And he's not above giving
Mrs. Spiro's ass a little pinch.
MARCELLO
(laughing)
The kid's got the meathooks of a murdera!
Fantastic fighta. I'm delighted we've
settled our arrangements.
CHARLIE
He's a great kid, too, Marcello. A good
boy, watches out for his family. I'm sure
he'll be thankful for how you're helping
him out.
MARCELLO
You make him a good manager, Charlie.
He's lucky to have you.
Charlie blushes a little.
MARCELLO (CONT'D)
(bemused)
Hands like shovels, that kid's got.
He chuckles.
CHARLIE
We had a little trouble getting him past
the commission, what with him not havin'
to wear gloves and all. If anybody knew…
MARCELLO
He hits hard with them meatballs, no
doubt about it… But don't you worry about
anything no more. We'll take care of any
problems wit da "commission."
Charlie looks slightly concerned, but he smiles and nods.
Emil looms large as the FRONT DOOR CLOSES.
MA
Baby, where ya been!
CHARLIE
(under his breath)
You're late, Emil.
Marcello rises and holds out his hand.
MARCELLO
Mr. Spiro hisself. Put 'er there, chum.
Emil scowls at the hand offered to him. He hesitates before
offering a meaty fist. Marcello looks at it as though he
doesn't know quite what to do with it, then wraps both hands
around Emil's bulbous hand.
MARCELLO (CONT'D)
These things is pure gold--twenty-four
karat. Heh heh.
Charlie casts a withering glance at Emil. Emil gets the
message.
EMIL
(disingenuously)
Nice to meet you, Sir.
MARCELLO
Call me, Uncle Marcello, kid. For
Chissakes we're like family now, eh?
A flash of anger in Emil's eyes.
EMIL
Hey, family I got. I don't know I want to
be a part of your "family."
Uncle Charlie jumps up from his chair and butts in between
Marcello and Emil.
CHARLIE
Em, don't you speak that way to Mr.
Pianta. He's here to help you out and--
Marcello smirks at Emil's challenging gaze and relaxes back
into his chair.
MARCELLO
Charlie, Charlie, please. No harm done.
The kid's a little bit of a hothead is
all. That's good. We can build on that.
CHARLIE
I'm sorry Marcello, I don't--
Emil storms off to a door at the back of the living room.
His mother looks at him in shock as he passes.
EMIL
I'll be in my room.
INT. EMIL'S ROOM - SAME
Emil's room is tiny. It contains a single bed, a small
dresser with a mirror, and a small night stand. On the night
stand is a vase with a bunch of flowers in it.
Emil SLAMS THE DOOR behind him and grips the sides of the
dresser, muttering under his breath angrily while listening
to Charlie and Marcello outside.
EMIL
(overlapping dialogue outside)
Stupid I-talian goon. Puttin' me up there
to bash some pipsqueak for his rich
goomba buddies. I ain't no goon toy for
them guidoes to show off. I ain't no
circus freak, ain't nobody's chump… To
hell wit their stupid, crummy, ginny
fight.
He continues to MUTTER and CURSE until the end of the scene.
CHARLIE (OS)
Really, I'm sorry about him. He's been a
little touchy lately--
MARCELLO (OS)
No, no. Fuggedaboudit… My family is just
delighted to have him, whether he likes
us or not.
(chuckling)
He's a mint, I tell ya.
CHARLIE (OS)
Just let him blow off some steam. He'll
come around.
MARCELLO (OS)
Thank you for the coffee, Mrs. Spiro.
Lovely home. Now I should be getting back
downtown… I'll see you Saturday at eight.
CHARLIE (OS)
Of course, of course. Good night. And
thanks again.
MARCELLO (OS)
Yeah, Charlie, sure.
CHARLIE (OS)
(angrily through the door)
Emil, you betta shape up, kid. You're
lucky Mr. Pianta's such a understanding
gentleman… Now I want you up at six
tomorrow. We gotta work on your defense.
Charlie's voice fades away behind the closed door. Emil
mutters more intensely, but as his spittle-wet lips murmur
curses, we begin to hear the distant CHEERS of a crowd. A
light gleams in Emil's crazed eyes. The gleam becomes a
reflection in his eyes of him fighting an opponent. As though
passing into that scene, we
CROSSFADE TO:
INT. SMALL STATEN ISLAND STADIUM - NIGHT
The small stadium is filled with an exclusive audience of
well-dressed gents. The fight has the feel of a gladiatorial
match. All that can be heard is the overwhelming ROAR OF THE
CROWD.
Emil spars with a SCRAWNY BOXER. His opponent is obviously
inferior, and Emil could whip him without a second thought.
The bell RINGS, Emil moves back to his corner. He seems
distracted. Uncle Charlie gives him water and rubs his
shoulders.
Another RING. At the opening of the next round, Emil lands a
several punches easily.
SUPER - EMIL'S FANTASY
Over the fight, we begin to see Emil's dream of being in a
large, peaceful garden with lots of color.
Emil runs through the garden; he handles a pair of shears,
albeit with difficulty; he holds a bouquet of freshly cut
roses to his nose. We see various other cheesy shots of Emil
with flowers. Finally, we see Emil dressed as a florist,
behind a shop counter, looking very content. Meanwhile, in
the fight, Emil's pindling opponent starts to gain the upper
fist.
AT THE BACK OF THE STADIUM
At some distance from the ring, a row of MOBSTERS in gangster
style hats scowls at the fight's turn out.
IN THE RING
Emil throws his fight completely. After taking several more
punches, he falls on the mat with an echoing THUD. He looks
up to see the REFEREE pronouncing his opponent the winner.
BLACKOUT
INT. TRAINING ROOM - LATER
A training room similar to the one before. In the background,
on a counter, is a large stack of money. In the far left
corner is a basement window. There is a COMMOTION outside the
door.
Uncle Charlie rouses Emil with some smelling salts. Emil sits
up and shakes his head, dazed.
CHARLIE
(furious)
What the hell was that, Em? Can you tell
me, please, what the hell that was?
EMIL
His left hook, I don't know Uncle
Charlie. It came outta--
CHARLIE
Don't you even, you little son of a… My
God, I'm gonna have to screw my head back
on, I'm so angry. Mary, mother o' Joseph…
Unbelievable!
EMIL
Uncle Charlie…
CHARLIE
Don't you "Uncle Charlie" me! You think
I'm that stupid, Emil? You think Marcello
Pianta is that stupid? You think they
don't know what you done out there? Oh
Jesus, Em, I don't know what you was
thinkin' when you let that chump--
EMIL
Charlie, c'mon. Every fighta loses now
and then. Just tell 'em, every fighter
loses--
CHARLIE
To a little half-pint monkey in trunks
who weighs no more than half a you?
You want me to believe… Christ, Emil, I
could kill you right now myself.
EMIL
Just calm down… I told ya, I don't want
to be a fighter. I got other plans,
Charlie. I know what I want… I wanna--
CHARLIE
Shuddup, Emil. I mean it. I can't stand
the sight o' you right now.
They sit in silence. Emil sits on the bench, his head down,
his hands folded across his lap uselessly. Charlie paces,
staring at the ceiling, obviously terrified of the
consequences to come.
EMIL
(after a long silence)
What are we gonna tell 'em?
CHARLIE
You ain't gonna tell 'em nothing. I'll
tell 'em… I'll…
Charlie's anger seems to dissipate for a moment when he looks
over at Emil sitting there dejectedly.
CHARLIE (CONT'D)
I'll tell 'em somethin', kid. I'll think
o' somethin'… Get ya clothes on and get
ready to go. I'll take care o' things
here.
Exasperated, Charlie runs his hands through his hair, as
though he's holding back from ripping it out. He sighs and
heads for the door.
CHARLIE (CONT'D)
That was a bad turn you done us, kid. A
real bad turn.
EMIL
(looking up)
I'm sorry, Uncle Charlie.
There is a LOUD KNOCK at the door. Emil and Charlie both
jump.
CHARLIE
(steeling himself)
Look, I'll figure something out.
He leaves. Emil sits alone in the room, bent over his
meathooks, silently crying. The VOICES outside the door grow
louder and more heated.
Emil stands up and paces nervously. Then he turns and sees
the money on the counter. Hastily throwing on his robe, he
grabs the stack of cash and shoves it in his pocket.
Now he spies the basement window in the corner. The VOICES
grow louder still, and it seems as though someone is about to
enter. Emil rushes to the window tries to force it open.
Unable to unlock it, he finally resolves to SMASH it open
with his fist. He manages to escape to the street just as a
GOON, having heard the noise, comes in to get him.
GOON
Spiro's getting' away! Danny, run out
back!
EXT. BEHIND THE STADIUM - SAME
Emil starts running away from the stadium, only to bump into
two GOONS. They smile at him menacingly, as though they think
they have him. Emil, however, bowls them over and continues
his escape.
EXT. HILL IN STATEN ISLAND - FOLLOW
He continues his sprint down a tree-lined hill, making his
way toward the Staten Island ferry. Several goons are in hot
pursuit.
INT. STATEN ISLAND FERRY TERMINUS - SAME
Emil reaches the ferry terminus and hops the turnstile. The
goons following him do the same. He jumps a cordon and leaps
onto the boat just as it is setting out.
One of the goons tries to jump the cordon and trips. A second
nearly falls off the platform as he skids to a halt,
realizing the jump is too far. A third, straggling behind,
stops and catches his breath before the cordon.
INT. FERRY - SAME
Emil PANTS and wipes sweat from his brow, relieved to have
made it aboard. The ferry moves out into New York Harbor, and
Emil leans over the railing, gazing out across the water to
the illumined Statue of Liberty.
EXT. BATTERY PARK - LATER
Emil exits the ferry terminus and HAILS A CAB.
INT. CAB - SAME
On the ride back to Harlem, Emil is harried by the VOICES IN
HIS HEAD. The faces of his mother, uncle, and Marcello
encircle him.
CHARLIE
Remember your sister's college...
MA
Listen to y'uncle Charlie, Emil...
MARCELLO
Welcome to the family, kid...
EMIL (V.O.)
I don't wanna be a part of this!
GOON
He went through the window. Get him!
CHARLIE
You're the breadwinner, Emil...
MA
Num num, baby... Num num...
EMIL (V.O.)
I don't wanna be a fighta!
EXT. STREET IN HARLEM - LATER
Emil gets out of the cab in an alleyway behind his apartment
building. He peeks around the corner of the building to see
if any goons are waiting for him. Though he does not spot
any, he does not approach the front door.
Instead, he climbs up onto a dumpster and reaches up to the
SQUEAKING ladder of his fire escape. Clamoring up, he makes
it to his bedroom window, which he carefully opens and
enters.
INT. BEDROOM - FOLLOW
Immediately upon entering, Emil grabs a knapsack and begins
stuffing it with clothes. Moments later, there is a SOFT
KNOCK on the door. Emil freezes.
MA (FROM BEHIND DOOR)
Em, you in there?
Emil goes to the door and listens for a moment. Sure that she
is alone, he opens the door for his mother.
EMIL
(whispering)
Ma, what're you doing up? Go to bed.
MA
(not whispering)
For Pete's sake, Emil!
EMIL
Shhhh!
MA
Wha'?… Did you come in through that
window? Jeez, you're gonna break your
neck one day the way you--
EMIL
Ma, please! I gotta run. I mean, I gotta
go.
MA
But, baby, it's late… How was the fight?
EMIL
Listen, I can't talk about it. I gotta
go.
MA
Gee, you're actin' funny. It's eleven
thirty on a Saturday. Where you gonna go,
anyways?
Emil pulls out the wad of cash in his robe.
EMIL
Take this, ma. Take it and hide it.
MA
Oh, my gawd! Where did you get this
money! Did you…
(finally whispering)
Emil, did you do something illegal?
EMIL
Don't be stupid. It's from that crummy
boxin' match. But you gotta hide it. You
gotta put it somewheres secret. And if
them goombas of Uncle Charlie's show up,
you gotta tell 'em ya ain't seen hide or
hair o' me. Got it?
MA
What are you talking about? What
happened? Where's Charlie?
From outside, Emil hears a CAR DOOR SLAM. He leans out his
window quickly then comes back in.
EMIL
(half-proudly)
Just hide it--it's for Janey's college!
MA
College? She's only five years old!
Emil kisses his mother on the cheek and starts back out the
window.
MA (CONT'D)
Wait! Emil!
EMIL
(whispering loudly)
Shaddap, ma! Cripes, you wan' 'em to find
me?
EXT. FIRE ESCAPE - FOLLOW
As he jumps out on the fire escape, Emil sees two goons
making their way up to his window. He scampers up to the top
of the fire escape onto the roof of his building.
EXT. ROOFTOP - FOLLOW
The goons fast on his heels, Emil runs across the roof and
jumps to the next building.
EXT. ANOTHER FIRE ESCAPE - FOLLOW
Having gained a bit of time with his daring leap, Emil
carefully proceeds down another fire escape to a nearby
alley. From above, he can hear goons CALLING to their
cohorts, telling them his whereabouts.
EXT. ALLEY - FOLLOW
He runs down an alley, hoping to evade any other goons that
might be after him. Suddenly, a car turns down the alley,
headed straight for him. He turns to run the other way,
passing a large dumpster on his right. When he reaches the
end of the alley, he is blocked by yet another GOON.
Emil throws up his fists, confident he can beat his opponent.
Before he gets to throw a punch, however, a SECOND GOON,
armed with a blackjack, pops out from behind the dumpster and
WHACKS him over the head.
BLACKOUT
INT. MOBSTER HIDEOUT - NIGHT
A squalid hideout, with the obligatory bare light bulb
dangling from the dingy ceiling and a large scuffed table.
Deep in the shadows, a faceless mobster (in fact, Marcello)
sits behind the table.
Emil, bound and gagged, and obviously a bit more beaten up
than he was, sits in a chair at the center of the room
beneath the light. He comes to as another heavily shadowed
mobster slaps his face.
GOON
Hey, hey. Looky here. Sleepin' Beauty's
awake.
MARCELLO
Have a nice nap, Sweet Prince?
Emil GRUNTS and struggles against the binding ropes which
CREAK in response. Marcello stands up and begins to walk
around Emil, staying to the shadows.
MARCELLO (CONT'D)
Emil, Emil, Emil. What are we to do wit
you? You crazy kid, just don't play well
wit others, do ya? I tell ya, that was
quite the blow you dealt us. I'm very
proud a you. Yes sir, I am. You're a real
tough kid, Emil. But that is highly
unfortunate for you... You see, some...
...Russian, ah, "associates" of ours was
helping us drum up a lotta bets from
stupid shits who liked that sad sap you
was fightin' this evening. Everybody
shoulda made quite a bit of money here,
ya'self included, Emil. But your…
Marcello BACKHANDS Emil across the face.
MARCELLO (CONT'D)
…shenanigans cost us all a pretty penny.
But it's gonna cost you a little more, my
friend. You dicked us over. Now you got a
lesson to be learned.
Marcello CRACKS his knuckles loudly.
MARCELLO (CONT'D)
Ya Uncle Charlie, he ain't too happy wit
you. Naw, he's very upset. I think he
might blame you for the trouble he got
now with his kneecaps. Don't ask me why,
Emil. But he seemed very irate about you.
Emil GRUNTS again and struggles.
MARCELLO (CONT'D)
And your ma! Boy, was she ever
disappointed in her son. Her stupid,
bulbous-fisted freak of a son!
Emil struggles with even greater ferocity.
MARCELLO (CONT'D)
Don't worry, kid. We ain't done nuttin'
to her. She very kindly gave us back the
money you stole from us. But she did cry
a little thinkin' what we was gonna do to
you.
(he pauses to reflect)
Now, Em. We can't have punk boxers like
yourself dickin' us over without teaching
a lesson. You unnerstan' that, right? I
mean, everybody'd think we was milque
toast if we just let bygones be bygones
in this here situation. It ain't nothin'
personal--just business… But I'm afraid
it's gonna hurt. It's gonna hurt pretty
bad, I think.
The other goons CHUCKLE.
CUT TO:
EXT. DOWNTOWN ALLEY - NIGHT
An alley in Little Italy, behind a small shop with a sign
that reads "Emily's Florist." A black car is parked next to a
dumpster. Two GOONS jump out of either side of the car and
hurry back to the trunk.
Inside the trunk is Emil. The goons pull him out and push him
up into the dumpster.
GOON 1
That'll teach ya to mess with the Pianta
family.
GOON 2
See if you ever step into a ring again!
INSERT - DUMPSTER
From above, we see Emil lying atop a pile of rotting flowers
in the dumpster behind the florist. He is no longer bound,
but he remains gagged. He hears the SQUEAL of tires as the
two goons take off, leaving him to rot.
Slowly he raises his arms, revealing two bloody stumps
wrapped in bandages. He looks at his handless arms and seems
to smile despite the pain.
Gazing up between the buildings at a beautiful starry sky,
Emil laughs or weeps gently as a shower of rose petals falls
softly on him.
THE END
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