An apartment in Manhattan, the master bedroom, 2033 AD.
MICHAEL ((((( 33, neurasthenic composer, wealthy, bedridden largely of his own choice
DR. RANCE FERVOD ((((( Michael's physician, mentor
SALLYFOREST ((((( Michael's born-again mother
PETER KUNSTLER, ESQ. ((((( Michael's attorney
RAPP ((((( Michael's bodyguard and servant
WILMA ((((( Michael's cook
BURT ((((( Michael's bodyguard and servant
OTHER SERVANTS, ATTENDANTS, STAFF
WILLIAM ((((( a young boy
DR. CRAVEN ((((( William's father
OTHER BOYS, THEIR PARENTS
A CHORUS OF MORE-OR LESS NOTABLES
ONE ((((((((((((( the bedroom,
In a neo-Baroque master bedroom, Michael lies on a canopied bed, enclosed with plastic film, a huge cylinder of oxygen to his left, to his feet a wall-sized video screen bearing images of LORD OF THE FLIES, playing, fast-forwarding, rewind searching, playing, seeking always the juicier sequences of small boys in half-dress gamboling across the island.In place of the sound track, the frivolous popular music of the late Seventies or the Eighties, Michael Jackson's preferably, muted but insistent as the covers bounce up and down over the supine form of MICHAEL, simply MICHAEL, a composer of great renown.
(a space of music and video, again . . . )
(gasping, as Michael, winded, tries to bring it off)
(the blanket bouncing, as on screen the images of small
boys continue, the sound track of trivial music)
(the blanket bouncing)
GGGGGGHHHHHHH . . . JEEEESSUUUSSSSSSS
SSSSS HHHHHHH CCCHHRRRRR . . .
(on screen suddenly a tall emaciated man with a skin
condition and thick lenses, a stethoscope around his neck)
WHAT IS IT, MICHAEL?(( DR. FERVOD
I CANNNN'TTTT GETTTTTT(( MICHAEL
What kind of shit?My God, this play is sick.
What kind of shit?This shit is thick.
I've seen more art in girlie magazines.
And who's this Michael?Christ he screams.
I've seen more art in porno shows.
And who's this Michael?Christ he groans.
And who's this Dr. Fervod guy?
Some mad physician?Hear him cry?
I'll see it through another scene.
And if it's more the same I'LL SCREAM.
I'LL scream to have my money back.
But there's the lights, the next attack.
At least you'd think the weirdo'd come.
He'll stick some needle in his bum.
At least you'd think the weirdo'd shoot.
He'll tame with drugs the little fruit.
Bury my mind in slime, this stinks.
Bury it deep in case it thinks.
TWO ((((((((((((( the bedroom, moments later
Dr. Fervod is on screen.His voice is orotund, sinister.On the other hand, Michael has the fussy whine of a four-year-old, petulant, girlish.
What is it, Michael?(( DR. FERVOD
More of the same?
I can't get a hard on,(( MICHAEL
No matter how hard I try.
Even with the films and my favorite music.
Rance, I need my friends.
There won't be any of that(( DR. FERVOD
For a while, I'm afraid.
Not till this thing with William's settled.
You know what his father said.
He's one pissed off man, that Dr. Craven.
I don't think you'll get off lightly.
But it's not FAIR.(( MICHAEL
Nothing's fair in this life,(( DR. FERVOD
You know that.
Everything is just terrible.(( MICHAEL
I miss my little friends.
I'm sure they miss you.(( DR. FERVOD
Can't I just call one?(( MICHAEL
Couldn't I call Winfield?
I'm afraid that's out of the(( DR. FERVOD
Would you like me to come up?
What can YOU do?(( MICHAEL
Why I can give you an injection.(( DR. FERVOD
Will it make me hard?(( MICHAEL
Oh no.It won't do that.(( DR. FERVOD
We tried EVERYTHING for that.
Will it take my mind off it?(( MICHAEL
It'll do that.(( DR. FERVOD
I can bring you up,
Bring you down,
Or take you sideways.Would you like to go sideways?
I think I'd like that.Anything(( MICHAEL
Would be better than this.
Michael, you have everything(( DR. FERVOD
You have constant oxygen,
Every conceivable fast food,
I hate to say this, but I find you a tad ungrateful.
Michael, think of your blessings.
I just could cry.(( MICHAEL
I AM crying.I am filled with pain.
I am just a little turd of misery.
You want me to come up?(( DR. FERVOD
All right.Yes.All right.(( MICHAEL
You want an injection?(( DR. FERVOD
All right.Yes.All right.(( MICHAEL
UP?DOWN?(( DR. FERVOD
ALL THREE.(( MICHAEL
Coming up.I'll be right there.(( DR. FERVOD
The screen goes blank.Returns to the images of LORD OF THE FLIES. Again the insipid music.The sound of Michael's weeping.
I've had enough.I'll not have more.
You'll take what comes.He's barred the door.
The exit's closed?Come on.They'll panic.
I kind of like the way he's manic.
Who?Fervod?Certainly not his patient.
Yes, Rance.He's nearly ancient.
The year, remember's, 2033.
And most are young.And all are free.
Of age?I guess that is the case.
But then perhaps it's just his face.
His skin is pitted, scabbed, repulsive.
This MD's frightening, odd, compulsive.
And what about his patient, Michael'd?
I've had enough.This play's recycled.
This play is lost on my dull wit.
And pretty soon they're eating shit.
Some other odium on the tray.
Scabs, pustules, cankers, snot, let's say.
I've seen this type of script before.
These days are dim and wit's a whore.
THREE ((((((((((((( , the bedroom
On screen, LORD OF THE FLIES.Michael asleep.Wakes. Rubs his eyes, calls out.A squat colored woman appears on the video.
What you be wishing, Master(( WILMA
Sometum good to eat, hah?
Maybe a Big Mac?
Maybe a buffalo wing or sometum.
Yah suh?(( WILMA
Do you hate me?(( MICHAEL
Why you be saying stupid?(( WILMA
I be loving you half to death, Master Michael,
All you done for me
And my chillen.
Why you sends them off to privat schools and such.
And even collage for Rufus, Jr.
You has a heart of gold,
And that all to it.
I loves you, Master Michael.
Why you nearly be God on earth,
Dear Lawd forgives me.
You almost purfact.
Wilma, could you send Rapp up(( MICHAEL
With a nice tray of things?
What you be wanting to eat,(( WILMA
Some of the Colonel's stuff?
Some of that with the muffins and gravies?
Some Keentucki Fried cheekan?
Just pick out something nice.(( MICHAEL
You know best.
You always know best, Ms. Wilma.
Oh, I'm just so depressed.
You wants me to call the Doc?(( WILMA
Rance is sleeping, Wilma.(( MICHAEL
The whole world is sleeping but me,
Me and Rapp and you.
Even Burt's asleep.
He come on at eight.(( WILMA
Well you bring up some(( MICHAEL
And three buffalo wings.
And some of the Colonel's.
And a fish sandwich, like Wendy's.OK?
Shuh thing, suh Michael.(( WILMA
And you don't hate me?(( MICHAEL
Listen here, Master Michael.(( WILMA
What you be doing with those little boys
Be your perrhogative.
Cause I knows in your heart you be kind and good
Even ifs you be white.
You shooh looks black.
Even your hair nappy.
And your skin—why it look nearly black all over.
Brown as Burt.
Brown as Rapp hisself.
Thank you, Wilma.(( MICHAEL
God bless you.
You has plentys to eat in 20(( WILMA
You eats yuhself to death.
I be praying you has a good run of luck too,
I be praying you sells ten million records just this week.
Thank you, Wilma.Good night.(( MICHAEL
The screen returns to LORD OF THE FLIES, the sound track to insipid.The covers shudder as Michael commences to weep.On the screen small boys gambol over rocks.
This thing gets racial of a sudden.
I'd rather have him pound his puddin.
Pretty soon he turns to Jesus.
I'd rather have him try and please us.
Why should someone white be black?
Or choose the rear for his attack?
And choose the front for simple parley?
Or ride his mattress like a Harley?
This Michael—is he black or white?
Or something neutral—olive? Bwhite?
I've seen some hate-mail in my time.
This dialogue turns its face toward slime.
And soon will slander Luther King.
Or Gandhi's horse, or wife—something.
Suffer such drama rot in hell.
The creep that wrote it starts to smell.
And sniffs his farts before it's over.
Or some small boy's beneath the covers.
Suffer him shit or settle down,
Not root around in black OR brown.
FOUR ((((( the bedroom,
Again, LORD OF THE FLIES and banal music.Michael, sitting up, stares abstractedly toward the screen, calls out.
RAPP!!RAPP, ARE YOU(( MICHAEL
What is it, Michael?(( RAPP
(beefy type with cartridge belt over his bare chest)
What do you need?
Ring up London.Put London(( MICHAEL
On the link.I want to talk to my mother.
But she's working, Michael.(( RAPP
She's at the restaurant.
I don't care.She's my mama(( MICHAEL
And I have to talk to her.
Michael . . .(( RAPP
Ring her up.(( MICHAEL
Moments later a woman appears in a waitress uniform.She is in her late fifties, flaming red hair, rouge, a small gold cross at her neck.
What is it, Michael?More(( SALLYFOREST
More trouble with the boys?
When are you ever going to LEARN?
Don't be peevish, Mommy.(( MICHAEL
You shouldn't ring me at work.(( SALLYFOREST
I've told you not to ring me at work.
You don't NEED to work, Mom.(( MICHAEL
I'VE GOT MILLIONS!!!!
Not any more you don't.(( SALLYFOREST
(looking around, right, left)
Hell, when they're finished with you, you'll be on the
Street.They got you
Where the hair's short, Michael,
And you know it.
They got your little balls in their pocket
And they're not going to let go.
Your nigger friends aren't going to help you this time.
You and your friends!
I told you it was unnatural.
Like goes with like.
White with white.
Colored with colored.
You start mixing them up you're in trouble.
I told you this would happen.
Mommmmmieeeee . . .(( MICHAEL
You don't understand.
You simply don't understand.
When you started frizzing your(( SALLYFOREST
I knew it was the beginning of the end.
I prayed to Jesus you'd stop
But it got worse and worse.
Then you got the dye for your skin,
And then you flattened out your nose,
And then you
Got your lips bigger,
And now you look just colored, perfectly
And even God couldn't take you back.
There may be time.There could be time, Michael,
If you'd just pray.
Pray for grace.
Pray to Christ Jeeeesssuussss . . .
I TRIED, MOM.I CAN'T.(( MICHAEL
Well then don't be ringing me(( SALLYFOREST
Up.Not at work.
YOU DON'T HAVE TO(( MICHAEL
I don't want any of that money.(( SALLYFOREST
I don't want none of your money.
All that money you stole from parents and their kids
To buy your records.
Mommy, I'm a serious artist.(( MICHAEL
Jeeesus knows what's in your(( SALLY FOREST
And Sally Forest knows what's in your records.
They're the work of the absolute devil.
You've trapped a billion souls
With that horse dung,
That Satan faeces,
And now you'll pay through the nose.
That big flat nigger nose
You had them give you.
Weren't good enough to be white, you had to get in with
Time was they was lower than whale faeces,
And now they own the earth.
So you had to get in with them.
You see what it got you.
PLEASE, MOM!!!!!(( MICHAEL
(like a petulant four-year-old)
I got to wait on tables now.(( SALLY FOREST
I got to earn my ten bob.
You pray to Jesus, hear?
(her image darkens; the screen is black)
(shaking the bed with his spasms)
It's turning dark, these lines of wit.
I told you they'd be sucking shit.
It's turning black, this awful play.
They act like imbeciles, I'd say.
He says he's serious at his art.
Let's hear some, not this mindless fart.
I wager we'll never know what notes
Are being buried in their throats.
Never know the chords, the pitch.
Nor care to know, his little itch.
Nor know his buddies in the sack.
Nor care to know, their little cracks.
He's plowed the very bitch of time.
And dyed his skin to look divine.
This Sally Forest, then, his mother?
It's certain that he has no brother.
Unless he's queer like little Michael.
Our luck this play's some endless cycle.
Come on, we'll see the bastard out.
In time perhaps he'll turn devout.
FIVE ((((((((((((( the bedroom, 10:42 AM
Again, LORD OF THE FLIES, idiot music, which is interrupted by Peter Kunstler, ESQ., a handsome, graying lawyer in a pinstriped suit.
GOOD MORNING, MICHAEL.(( KUNSTLER
Good morning, Mr. Kunstler.(( MICHAEL
How are things going?
Not good.Not good.(( KUNSTLER
Craven still wants his billion.
But I don't have it.I simply(( MICHAEL
Don't have it.
That man is horrible.I hate him.
That's really beside the point.(( KUNSTLER
He says you sodomized his son.
That's a lie.That's a nasty(( MICHAEL
I could claw his eyes out.
I could tear his skin off.I hate him.
Well he says he has all the(( KUNSTLER
On his side.
You mean the photographs(( MICHAEL
Of my . . . genitals?
That's part of it.(( KUNSTLER
They stormed in here at 2 AM(( MICHAEL
And pulled me out of bed.I think it was Friday
They tied up Rapp and Wilma
And Dr. Fervod
And took those nasty pictures.
I cried and cried.
I'll never recover.
Those ugly ugly men.
There's a lot more than that,(( KUNSTLER
It's about time you come clean.
COME CLEAN?About what?(( MICHAEL
About the whole thing.(( KUNSTLER
After all, I've got to assess this case.
See what we're up against.
Just how far DID you go?With William.
I don't know what you're talking(( MICHAEL
Come now, Michael.You know(( KUNSTLER
Damned well what I'm talking about.
Stop living in a fantasy world for once
And tell me what I'm up against
With this Craven.
He claims you went all the way.
Countless times.Porked him in the ass.
He says you're a pedophile, Michael.
He says you're sick.
According to Dr. Craven, his son's damaged goods.
He says you slipped it to him,
And he wants a billion up front
Or you're going to jail.
You know what that means, don't you?
I don't know what anything(( MICHAEL
You end up in the slammer, the(( KUNSTLER
Going to work on YOU.
They'll be able to drive a five ton truck up your ass,
And I mean it.
This won't be just a case of simple hemorrhoids.
This'll be big time.
They'll pork you till you drop
And go on from there.
Come on, Michael.COME CLEAN.
I just had him over for dinner.(( MICHAEL
William.And the Disneys.
We watched the Disneys, the videos, for simply hours.
And that was it then?Come on.(( KUNSTLER
Well, we had a sleep-over.(( MICHAEL
That's what a lot of them claim.(( KUNSTLER
That's the God's sacred truth.(( MICHAEL
I mean it.
YOU GOT TRUTH AND LIES(( KUNSTLER
In one stinking mess.
All mixed up and festering, and this Craven's got it
Come clean, Michael.COME CLEAN.
What were you wearing at this
What was your friend William doing?
What did the little guy have on?
Briefs.White clean briefs.(( MICHAEL
And all I did was stick my fingers
In under the waistband.
That's ALL I did.
Just slipped some fingers in under the band of his briefs
PADDLED?WHAT'S THAT(( KUNSTLER
SUPPOSED TO MEAN?
I mean paddled with the tips(( MICHAEL
Of my fingers.
It was totally innocent.
You felt him up then.(( KUNSTLER
Peter Kunstler, you're a very(( MICHAEL
What else did you do?(( KUNSTLER
We took turns farting and stuck(( MICHAEL
Under the covers.
That kind of thing.
This gets sicker by the minute.(( KUNSTLER
Craven claims you porked him, Michael.
Did you go that far?
What else did you do?
I kissed him behind the left ear.(( MICHAEL
You're getting me all mixed up.(( MICHAEL
Why, William, Craven's son.
I kissed him and sucked on his earlobe,
And then I took his hand and put it in MY waistband
And had HIM paddle,
And we whispered things
And I gave him something very precious.
What was that, Michael?Your(( KUNSTLER
Wiener?That's such an ugly(( MICHAEL
Word, Mr. Kunstler.
What do you want me to say,(( KUNSTLER
This is just awful, Mr. Kunstler.(( MICHAEL
I'm getting a headache.
My head's throbbing, Mr. Kunstler,
And it's all your fault.
DID HE GRAB YOUR(( KUNSTLER
DID HE FEEL YOU UP?
STOP PUSSY-FOOTING AROUND HERE, MICHAEL.
YOUR WHOLE FUTURE'S AT STAKE.
He put his hand there.(( MICHAEL
On my privates.(( MICHAEL
DID HE JERK YOU OFF?(( KUNSTLER
This is SO SO ugly.(( MICHAEL
Come on, Michael,(( KUNSTLER
DID HE JERK YOU OFF????
Well, sort of.(( MICHAEL
And I did him.
It was pure and wonderful, just like the Disneys,
And it was love and trust
And gentle and all the good things on this wicked earth.
You just don't understand.
AND HE CAME?(( KUNSTLER
DON'T SAY THAT!!!!(( MICHAEL
HOW THE HELL ELSE(( KUNSTLER
You're a walking euphemism, Michael.
You make Roget look like a piker.
Hell, did the youngster ejaculate or not?
He . . . did.(( MICHAEL
As much as he could.It was a little pearl.
I'm getting sick.(( KUNSTLER
Mr. Kunstler, you're my attorney.(( MICHAEL
You're not allowed to get sick.
I've got my feelings, Michael.(( KUNSTLER
I've got my OWN son.
Christ, man, this is disgusting . . .
DID YOU PORK HIM????
Don't SAY THAT.DON'T SAY(( MICHAEL
You're treating me just like Dr. Craven
And the others.
There ARE others, aren't there?
Lining up for a piece of the(( KUNSTLER
You might say that.
This is serious business, Michael.
You play you pay in this world,
And Dr. Craven's just the tip of the iceberg.
There are others then.Winfield?(( MICHAEL
Winfield's dad.(( KUNSTLER
And Arthur's and Arthur's uncle.
He's on Wall Street, you know.
And Morris.HIS DAD'S IN THE STATE DEPARTMENT.
Michael, your in deep doody.
This is HORRIBLE.(( MICHAEL
I think your slumber parties are(( KUNSTLER
They're going to nail your little ass, son,
And there's not a lot I can do about it.
But I can't pay ALL of them(( MICHAEL
Even if I tried.
Just Dr. Craven, Willy's dad,
Him alone—what makes him so cruel?
A billion U.S. dollars.Why that's simply absurd.
I'm going to see if it'll go(( KUNSTLER
Down a bit.
See if the good man'll come around.
As for the others, we may get lucky.
YOU THINK SO?(( MICHAEL
There is a quantum of hope.(( KUNSTLER
Then you're cautiously(( MICHAEL
I wouldn't go that far.(( KUNSTLER
But I'm going to try, Michael.
After all, you're my client.
Thank you, Mr. Kunstler.(( MICHAEL
Pray, Michael.Say your(( KUNSTLER
I'll do my best.(( MICHAEL
But no more questions.Not now.Not ever.
YOU GO TO COURT,(( KUNSTLER
THEY'LL BE SHOWING YOUR WHAT'S-IT
ON THE BIG SCREEN.
I'll do what I can.
I'll pray for you.
So long, Mr. Kunstler.(( MICHAEL
I LOVE you.
I love you, Michael.Despite(( KUNSTLER
His image fades.The room is utterly dark.
There must be better ways than Kunstler's.
This seems a spin-off from the Munsters.
I half believe Mike's innocent, deranged.
Loony as tunes, ein bisschen strange.
I'd give a hundred to have seen the session.
With William or the camera?—most depressing.
The greatest composer dead or living?
'Tis just his press.He's not THAT driven.
Symphonic poems, concertos, rock?
He'd rather squeeze an infant's cock.
I'd find this funny if it weren't so sick.
We're bound to find the going thick.
Michael in prison?—spare us the action.
Maybe he'll publish some retraction.
He's in the soup, I'm forced to utter.
For milking camels?—Willy's udder.
This drama doesn't sing, it stutters.
They sucked this story from the gutters.
SIX ((((((((((((( the bedroom, 3:15 PM
As the scene opens, Burt, the other bodyguard, is on screen.He is likewise beefy and wears a cartridge belt over his bare chest.
MICHAEL?Are you(( BURT
I must have dozed off.What is(( MICHAEL
(sits up in bed)
I got that Dr. Craven on the line.(( BURT
I told him to go away, but he's pretty stubborn.
Says he wants to talk to you.
Put him on.(( MICHAEL
Craven's image appears on screen.He is a blond middle-aged man peering over reading glasses.There are people in the background, parents, sons.
Is that you, MICHAEL?
(looks down at a document, then over his lenses)
This is Michael.How can I help(( MICHAEL
I was just getting tired of(( CRAVEN
To your stooge.
I got the deposition here.I'd like you to hear what
I have to say.
My position, so to speak.
Recognize this guy?
(draws William to the screen)
HELLO, WILLIAM.HOW(( MICHAEL
Hello, Michael.(( WILLIAM
(the voice is strained; he disappears into the
background, where there is noise and confusion)
We're having a party here.(( CRAVEN
You'd recognize a lot of the faces.
Are the boys there?My little friends?
You could say that.(( CRAVEN
There's going to be a suit, you see.
I know about that.You told Mr.(( MICHAEL
Kunstler you wanted a billion dollars.
I don't have that kind of money, sir.
Even William knows that.
How IS he?
That's a strange question from(( CRAVEN
He's fine.He's OK.
What's left of him.
Is he still my friend?(( MICHAEL
That's the part I don't quite(( CRAVEN
Yes, Michael.He insisted on saying hello.
In fact, once we get all this mess
Straightened out he wants to see you.
SEE ME?(( MICHAEL
That's right.You have a real(( CRAVEN
Hold over him.
Over all of them.
But what about the billion?(( MICHAEL
You come across we can talk.(( CRAVEN
We can talk about William's future.
And all the other boys.
They're all here, you know.
But what about the money?(( MICHAEL
Just see that as a down payment.(( CRAVEN
A DOWN PAYMENT?(( MICHAEL
YOU'RE GOING TO RUIN ME.
Oh no, Michael.We're not(( CRAVEN
To ruin you.
What's that old story about the goose with the golden
Eggs?The chicken?Some kind of bird.
We're not going to kill the goose.
Then what are all those people(( MICHAEL
There behind you?
Why are you having a party?
A class action suit, MICHAEL.(( CRAVEN
EVER HEAR OF THAT?
I don't understand.(( MICHAEL
For the second BILLION.(( CRAVEN
But this is absurd.(( MICHAEL
I'm simply not that wealthy.
You're going to ruin me, you are.
You're a nasty man, you are.
MICHAEL, I'M YOUR(( CRAVEN
Some friend.(( MICHAEL
Just tell your Kunstler stooge(( CRAVEN
Dr. Craven's your buddy.
He just wants a piece of the action.
As payment for small Willy's cherry.
Let's put it that way.
You come across we'll talk.
We'll talk about your Disneys.
My Disneys?(( MICHAEL
Oh, William told me(( CRAVEN
All about the Disneys.About the whole thing.
You come across and we'll sit down
For the friendliest
BUT YOU'RE GOING TO(( MICHAEL
Fiddlesticks.That house in(( CRAVEN
Is 20 million.
You're richer than old Bill Gates, you know.
I don't think you have the slightest
Idea how much you're worth.
We have accountants here working on it 24 hours a day.
You have more money than God.
THAT'S NOT FAIR.(( MICHAEL
IT'S A LIE AND IT'S NOT FAIR.
Just talk to Kunstler.Tell him(( CRAVEN
Straight with you.
Talk to your accountants.
And call me back.
You have my number.
You call me back.
We're friends, you know.
Unless you back me into a corner.
TELL YOUR KUNSTLER STOOGE YOU'RE COMING
TELL HIM YOU'RE GOOD FOR THE WHOLE
MICHAEL, YOU'RE WORTH TWELVE BILLION!!!!!
But DR. CRAVEN . . .(( MICHAEL
YOU COME ACROSS.(( CRAVEN
AND THAT'S FINAL.
Every scene another twist.
This Craven's worse than what he kissed.
They all have organs, can't you see?
And not used simply just to pee.
That guy is giving Mike a fit.
He's got the brains to suit, the flit!
And what's his field, and what's the title?
Doctor of arts or math, the BIBLE?
Divinity could be his calling.
'Tis Michael's body that he's hauling.
Body or corpse, our Mike's in trouble.
With all those others trouble double.
They say that virtue can't be bought.
That lost it's worth more than it ought.
Tell Mike he'd better come across.
They'll spike his gonads, burn his cross.
And what about those other faggots?
Tell Mike he's nailed and hanging tight.
No way in hell he'll get off light.
SEVEN ((((((((((((( Michael's bedroom, 7:53 PM
The scene opens in total darkness.There is the sound of weeping.Michael calls out.
BURT.BURT?ARE YOU(( MICHAEL
(Burt appears on screen)
What's wrong?You OK,(( BURT
No.Well yes.Is Rance here?(( MICHAEL
I can get him on the link.(( BURT
Do that.Please.(( MICHAEL
(moments later Dr. Fervod's image appears)
How ARE you, MICHAEL?(( FERVOD
Not good.They're going to take(( MICHAEL
What did Mr. Kunstler say?(( FERVOD
I'm sick and tired of Mr.(( MICHAEL
This has nothing to do with him.
He's totally out of the loop.
Craven insists on his billion, and there's a class action
I'm better dead than alive.
DON'T SAY THAT.(( FERVOD
Well, it's true.(( MICHAEL
This thing goes through I'll be penniless.
What's going to happen to you?
ME?I'll survive, Michael.(( FERVOD
I always have.
But Wilma.Burt.Rapp.(( MICHAEL
The other servants.The attendants.The staff.
They'll be out in the street.
Rance, I'm worth a great deal more dead.
You can't LOOK at it that way.(( FERVOD
(firing a cigarette, exhaling fumes)
Well, it's true.When I'm gone(( MICHAEL
There'll be no one to blackmail.
No one to sue.
They'll never get a dime.
Who's they?(( FERVOD
Craven.The others.The parents,(( MICHAEL
YOU know the story.I'm in terrible terrible trouble.
Have you made a will?(( FERVOD
I've made at least twenty wills.(( MICHAEL
See, you DO think it's hopeless.
RANCE, I want you to put me under.For good,
Rance.I want to die.
Right now.I'm ready for it.(( MICHAEL
I've prayed for simply everyone.
I've made my peace.
I have to die.It's the only way.
Yes, Dr. Fervod.(( MICHAEL
In the end table to your right is(( FERVOD
A silver box with twelve tablets.
To your right.There's a plastic bag in there with it.
The bag has a tie string.See it?
I'VE GOT IT, RANCE.I've(( MICHAEL
The box and the bag.
(rummaging in the drawer, pulling them out)
There's water there?On the(( FERVOD
There's water and a glass of(( MICHAEL
Don't use the milk.It'll coat(( FERVOD
Take out the twelve pills and swallow
Them one at a time with the water.
Can you do that?
Swallow them with the water.
I can't open the box.(( MICHAEL
I CAN'T OPEN THE BOX, RANCE!!!!
Calm down.There's a catch.(( FERVOD
See the catch?
I've got it.(( MICHAEL
(opening the box and shaking out the pills in his
Swallow them, one at a time(( FERVOD
With the WATER.
FIVE.SIX.SEVEN.EIGHT . . .
(ceasing to count)
OK, RANCE.THEY'RE ALL DOWN.
Now put the plastic bag over(( FERVOD
And pull the cord tight,
So that the bag's on snug.
Can you DO THAT?
I'VE GOT IT.(( MICHAEL
(voice distorted by the bag)
Now just lay back.Lie back(( FERVOD
Say your prayers and go to sleep.
That's ALL THERE IS?(( MICHAEL
(voice distorted, peculiar)
THAT'S IT.MICHAEL, IT'S(( FERVOD
Thank you, Dr. Fervod.(( MICHAEL
(voice like at the end of a long tunnel)
I love you.
I love you, Michael.Goodbye.(( FERVOD
Michael settles back on the pillow.Fervod's image turns to black.LORD OF THE FLIES appears on the screen, small boys cavorting among the rocks.There is the music, late '70's, or '80's, preferably Michael Jackson's.Minutes pass.The door opens, stage rear, and Michael's staff files in, one by one, Wilma, Burt, the others.They circle the bed and kneel in prayer.There is the sound of quiet lamentation.Small boys cavort, fast forward, rewind search, play, on the large blond rocks.