<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4069092102917904930</id><updated>2011-04-21T19:50:00.643-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The British Adventures</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://british-adventures.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4069092102917904930/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://british-adventures.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Mark J. Ormesher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14248486116010641243</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>4</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4069092102917904930.post-2119599799855591525</id><published>2007-06-08T15:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-08T15:41:10.392-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>You know, I spend a whole lot of time working, writing, and learning about my future profession. But I honestly try to spend more time with my friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How come my relationships aren't providing more fruit than my profession.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4069092102917904930-2119599799855591525?l=british-adventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://british-adventures.blogspot.com/feeds/2119599799855591525/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4069092102917904930&amp;postID=2119599799855591525' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4069092102917904930/posts/default/2119599799855591525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4069092102917904930/posts/default/2119599799855591525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://british-adventures.blogspot.com/2007/06/you-know-i-spend-whole-lot-of-time.html' title=''/><author><name>Mark J. Ormesher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14248486116010641243</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4069092102917904930.post-8718439300555228815</id><published>2007-06-01T12:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-01T12:18:43.822-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Scene 2 - Family Values</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;EXT. JOHNSON’S HOUSE (1980’S) - DAY &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... Two boys outside in a backyard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The neighborhood is early 1980’s, upper-class suburbia in mid-spring. The sky has a few clouds, light and fluffy, dream like. One of the boys is six. His name is Aiden. He has sandy blond hair and his face is flush with running. The flush of his face brings out the blue in his eyes. He is short for his age and still has some baby fat.  He chases, huffing and wheezing after his older brother...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Noah, 12. He is also quite short for his age, but has a much more athletic build than his brother. His mid-length brown hair streams behind him as he runs. His bright green eyes flash in the bright sun. The two of them play cops and robbers. Aiden holds a stick that is shaped vaguely like a gun. Noah just holds his fingers in a gun shape. As they run around making GUNSHOT noises and LAUGHING, a pretty voice rings out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;NORA (O.S.) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Aiden! Noah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boys run to the front of the house, onto a wrap around porch where...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nora, their Mother, is sitting drinking a glass of lemonade. A pitcher is next to her with two glasses. She pours a glass for each of them. As she does this she smiles a radiant smile, the kind that reassures you that everything is OK with the world. Her blond hair flows on a gentle gust of wind and her blue eyes sparkle more than the glass. The pitcher sweats in the late spring heat, droplets of water reflecting the bright sunlight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;NORA (CONT'D) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Who was winning? The cops or the robbers?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;YOUNG NOAH &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Everyone knows the cops always win, mom!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;YOUNG AIDEN &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Nuh UH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aiden jumps up and runs down the steps at the front of the wrap around porch. Halfway down the steps the family dog is sleeping. Aiden trips on the dog. It GROWLS at Aiden and gnashes it’s teeth. Aiden cowers in fear. Nora smacks the dogs nose. The dog bites her hand so hard it starts bleeding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;NORA&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Son of a bitch!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aiden and Noah’s father, Steven, comes out of the front door and sees Nora pulling her bloodied hand out of the dog’s mouth. Steven and Noah looks very much alike. Steven runs up to her, pulls the dog away by its collar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;STEVEN&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Nora, honey, are you alright?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;NORA&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;That stupid dog tried to kill Aiden! I told you we should’ve put &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;it down!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Steven drags the dog around back to tie him up in his dog house. The sky clouds over. Noah follows his father with a concerned look on his face. Nora YELLS from the porch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt;NORA  (CONT’D) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Steven! How many times have I goddamn said it? One day we’re going to find that the dog has killed something. We need to get rid of it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Steven walks into the house. Nora follows him and continues screaming. The words are now unintelligible, but there is obviously a large fight going on between Nora and Steven. Noah sees that Aiden hasn’t picked himself up off the ground. Tears are silently running down Aiden’s cheeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt;YOUNG AIDEN &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;He bit mommy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt;YOUNG NOAH &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;She’ll be fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Noah slowly helps Aiden up. They start walking into the woods next to their house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;EXT. THE WOODS (1980’S) - DAY &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they walk down a steep path into the woods, Noah puts his arm around Aiden. Aiden stops shaking with his brothers touch. They push their way through branches and bushes until they reach a tree house in the middle of a clearing. A rope swing hangs from the tree. Noah sits in it while Aiden sits at the bottom of a tree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt;YOUNG NOAH &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;You OK?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt;YOUNG AIDEN &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Mommy was mad at daddy for not getting rid of Bruno wasn’t she?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt;YOUNG NOAH &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Mom and Dad will sort things out. Don’t you worry about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Noah starts to swing more. As his does this the swing CREAKS and the NOISE of the crickets get louder and louder. The sounds rise to a crescendo...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;FADE TO:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;INT. YOUNG NOAH’S BEDROOM (1980’S) - NIGHT &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... The crescendo falls again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Noah sleeps peacefully in his bed. CRICKETS are heard through the open window and a slight breeze ruffles his hair. A door SLAMS somewhere.&lt;br /&gt;Noah stirs but doesn’t wake. A SQUEAL drifts up into the window, followed by the swift CRASH of an axe. Noah wakes&lt;br /&gt;alarmed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt;YOUNG NOAH &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Mom? Dad?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Noah climbs out of bed and picks up his flashlight. He walks quietly down the stairs into the moonlit corridor, turning the light on only when he gets to the bottom of the stairs. He turns the front door handle slowly and pushes the door open.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;EXT. JOHNSON’S HOUSE (1980’S) - NIGHT &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Noah quickly flashes his flashlight around to see if there is anyone outside. No movement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt;YOUNG NOAH &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Bruno?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He walks around the back of the house to Bruno’s dog house. His flashlight picks up something dark on the ground. He kneels down to get a closer look. Blood. He shines his flashlight’s beam up following the blood to see the mangled corpse of their old dog Bruno. He &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;SCREAMS!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;CUT TO:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;INT. NOAH’S BEDROOM (2006) - DAY &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Noah’s eyes start open. He looks around in all directions. His girlfriend, Sarah, lies next to him, still asleep and purring softly. He looks at the clock. The time reads 5:42 AM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;NOAH&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Damn it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4069092102917904930-8718439300555228815?l=british-adventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://british-adventures.blogspot.com/feeds/8718439300555228815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4069092102917904930&amp;postID=8718439300555228815' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4069092102917904930/posts/default/8718439300555228815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4069092102917904930/posts/default/8718439300555228815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://british-adventures.blogspot.com/2007/06/scene-2-family-values.html' title='Scene 2 - Family Values'/><author><name>Mark J. Ormesher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14248486116010641243</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4069092102917904930.post-7425210871700265207</id><published>2007-05-30T22:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-30T22:09:10.249-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Family Values</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Family Values &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;(Opening scene) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;by &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Mark J. Ormesher &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right; font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Copyright: Mark J. Ormesher &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Creative UNCommons &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;7245 Clifton Rd. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Clifton, VA 20124 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ormesher@mac.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; font-weight: bold;"&gt;INT. PRISON CELL - DAY &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;A grimy, dirty, cold prison cell. The walls are an awkward &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;shade of blue. Patches of light filter through the small &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;window. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;A man lies on his back, facing the roof. We do not see his &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;face. This man is AIDEN. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Sitting outside the cell is a PSYCHIATRIST. He is flanked by &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;two heavily armed guards.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;PSYCHIATRIST &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aiden? Do you know why you’re here?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;AIDEN &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;PSYCHIATRIST &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can you tell me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;AIDEN &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could tell you many things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Aiden sits up. Long, dark hair falls in clumps around his&lt;br /&gt;face. A genuine smile, that of a child, crosses his face. It&lt;br /&gt;provides a stark contrast to everything else, which is beaten&lt;br /&gt;and poorly cared for. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;AIDEN (CONT’D) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Would you like to hear a story?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;PSYCHIATRIST &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What story would you like to tell&lt;br /&gt;me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Aiden lies back down, his body relaxes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;AIDEN &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Just a friend I used to know. He &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;was crazy. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; font-weight: bold;"&gt;PSYCHIATRIST &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;What’s your friends name? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; font-weight: bold;"&gt;AIDEN &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;I don’t remember now. That isn’t &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;important. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; font-weight: bold;"&gt;PSYCHIATRIST &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Why not?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; font-weight: bold;"&gt;AIDEN &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;(innocently) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Because names aren’t important. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;People are important. I remember &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;people, not names. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; font-weight: bold;"&gt;PSYCHIATRIST &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;And this friend? Did he remember &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;people too? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; font-weight: bold;"&gt;AIDEN &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;No. He didn’t care about people, he &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;liked names. I remember he used to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;talk, talk so much. When he was by &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;himself he said their names, he let &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;me see him once, he talked their &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;names for a long time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; font-weight: bold;"&gt;PSYCHIATRIST &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;When? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;AIDEN&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Long time. He loved their names. He &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;hated them. He loved their names. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;PSYCHIATRIST&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Can you tell me a story Aiden? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;AIDEN&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Aiden? Oh! Yes! That was his name &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;wasn’t it? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;PSYCHIATRIST&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Aiden’s your name. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;AIDEN&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Don’t be silly, I’m not Aiden. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Aiden was crazy. Aiden went there. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;He went to dark. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;PSYCHIATRIST&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Focus Aiden. Tell me the story. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;What do you remember of it? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;AIDEN&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;I remember the dark. He showed me &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;the dark once. It was full. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;PSYCHIATRIST&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Full? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;AIDEN&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Blood. Guts. Sharp. It was hot, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;sticky, wonderful. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;I loved every moment. But it scared &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;me, the dark was scary. He let it &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;in. It filled him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;PSYCHIATRIST&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Why? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;AIDEN&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;So that he could be full of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;something! He was empty. Don’t you &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;understand? He needed to be filled. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;He needed something so that those &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;people didn’t see empty. That’s why &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;he took their names. So he’d be &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;normal. He wanted to be normal. He &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;was a boy. He was young. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;PSYCHIATRIST&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Did he tell you about Nora, his &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;mother? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;AIDEN&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Mommy? No. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;PSYCHIATRIST&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;What did he tell you about? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;AIDEN&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;He told me about that evil hell &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;dog. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;PSYCHIATRIST&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Did he tell you the dog’s name? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;AIDEN&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Bruno. He told me about that dog. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;He. He. He... He hates that dog. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; font-weight: bold;"&gt;PSYCHIATRIST &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Why does he hate that dog? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;AIDEN&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;It follows him. It follows him &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;everywhere. Follows... Follows. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Follows. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;PSYCHIATRIST&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;It’s ok Aiden. You can tell us the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;story later. Ok?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Aiden starts sucking his thumb. He nods.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; font-weight: bold;"&gt;PSYCHIATRIST (CONT’D) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;See you tomorrow, ok? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;The psychiatrist stands and walks away from the bars. Aiden &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;rolls over on his stomach and curls his legs under him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; font-weight: bold;"&gt;AIDEN (V.O.) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;I hate these fucking sessions. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;It’s been six fucking years now and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;all I have to do is act retarded &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;for the rest of my life. I should &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;grow some balls and get it over &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;with. Tell them ‘Yea! I did it! I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;killed the bastards! I loved every &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;fucking minute of it!’ You know the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;story right? No? Ok. I’ll start &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;from the beginning. I’ll fill in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;the bits that I wasn’t there for &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;with what my dumbass family told &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;me, they told me right before... Oh &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;hell. I don’t want to spoil the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;TITLES&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;The screen flickers like old fashioned celluloid being looped &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;into a projector. Among the flickering is an image. The title &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;is shown like a title from an old home movie: “Family &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Values.” The picture comes into view with some flashes and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;then the focus adjusts to reveal...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4069092102917904930-7425210871700265207?l=british-adventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://british-adventures.blogspot.com/feeds/7425210871700265207/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4069092102917904930&amp;postID=7425210871700265207' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4069092102917904930/posts/default/7425210871700265207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4069092102917904930/posts/default/7425210871700265207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://british-adventures.blogspot.com/2007/05/family-values.html' title='Family Values'/><author><name>Mark J. Ormesher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14248486116010641243</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4069092102917904930.post-7184878481879935712</id><published>2007-05-30T21:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-30T21:56:59.887-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things to do this summer...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;1) Finish my studies on film and philosophy of film.&lt;br /&gt;2) Watch at least 20 Classic Films that I haven't seen before.&lt;br /&gt;3) Finish a damn screenplay (God, that's been a goal of mine for a year now!)&lt;br /&gt;4) Find someone new. Or at least revitalize an old relationship to a point of stability.&lt;br /&gt;5) Maintain a blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4069092102917904930-7184878481879935712?l=british-adventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://british-adventures.blogspot.com/feeds/7184878481879935712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4069092102917904930&amp;postID=7184878481879935712' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4069092102917904930/posts/default/7184878481879935712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4069092102917904930/posts/default/7184878481879935712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://british-adventures.blogspot.com/2007/05/things-to-do-this-summer.html' title='Things to do this summer...'/><author><name>Mark J. Ormesher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14248486116010641243</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
