trauma
DESCRIPTION
The cold opening for TraumaTRANSCRIPT
EXT. PARKING LOT/INT. DARREN’S CAR - TWO SHOT - DARREN AND
MILES - NIGHT
The PARKING LOT is dark, lit only by a handful of street
lamps. CAMERA RESTS on DARREN’S CAR, as DARREN and MILES,
two men in their early twenties, wait. Silence is only
broken by the RADIO PLAYING quietly.
DARREN
What the fuck is taking this guy so
long?
MILES
He said he had to make a stop or
something. He’ll just be another
minute.
DARREN
That’s bullshit. Drug dealers
always say it’ll be ’just another
minute’. In the 20 minutes we’ve
been here, we could have picked up
from three other guys around the
corner.
MILES
Yeah, but I trust this guy.
DARREN
You can’t trust drug dealers,
Miles. Look, whatever. This dude
has five minutes before I’m out of
here.
MILES
Alright. Fair enough.
Darren lights a cigarette, letting the window down for it to
disperse. The car goes quiet once again, and the two young
men sit silently for a moment.
DARREN
Alright. So she’s back in town
again. The love of your life! For
one week only! What’s the plan?
Miles buries his face into his hand, groaning.
MILES
I don’t even know, man. Its been a
long fuckin’ time. I guess I’m just
gonna have to play it by ear.
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 2.
A HOODED FIGURE approaches from the rear, walking quickly
and deliberately.
DARREN
(laughing)
Alright, alright. You need any help
though, all you gotta do is-
Darren is interrupted by a KNOCK on the rear passenger
window. He unlocks the door, letting the HOODED FIGURE into
the backseat, where he shuffles to the center and produces a
small balance from his jacket pocket. This must be our DRUG
DEALER.
DRUG DEALER
Sorry I’m late. Had to stop at the
library.
Darren and Miles exchange a confused look at the mention of
the library, but the dealer continues to weigh out his
product.
DRUG DEALER
Alright. I’m telling you the same
thing I told everybody else
tonight: I have a list of people I
text as soon as I’m good with this
shit.
(nods to the baggies in his
lap)
You are BOTH currently on that
list. This means do not blow up my
fuckin’ phone, asking me if I’m
good all day. You will fucking
know. If I don’t fucking text, that
means I’m not fucking good. Cool?
Darren and Miles nod their head, equally amused over this
tirade.
DRUG DEALER
Good. Now if you want off the list
for whatever reason, that’s fine.
But don’t come fucking crying to me
when you hit me up and I’m all out.
You should have stayed on the
fucking list.
The sound of PAPER TEARING is heard, followed by it being
CRUMPLED.
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 3.
DRUG DEALER
(handing a wad of paper to
Miles)
Alright, here’s your shit.
Miles accepts the wad and pays Drug Dealer, who makes a
speedy departure.
Miles looks at the wad and holds it out between himself and
Darren. They exchange puzzled looks.
DARREN
What the fuck is that?
MILES
(un-crumpling the paper)
I think its-
(he removes the marijuana from
the paper and begins to skim
over the paper)
Its Hamlet. Its fucking Hamlet
Darren laughs loudly, tilting his head back at the absurdity
of it all. FREEZE FRAME - TITLE CARD "TRAUMA"
DARREN
(laughing)
Fucking drug dealers!
MILES
Fucking drug dealers!