INT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT JANINE, mid-30s, walks into Le Bistro, a small, busy, and trendy restaurant. There are about six or seven tables with chairs, most of which are taken. There is a small area in the middle of the tables for dancing. Janine scans the restaurant. JUSTIN, mid-30s, handsome, clean cut and nicely dressed, waves from his table and stands up. Janine breathes a sigh of relief and walks towards the table. JANINE Justin? JUSTIN Janine? They both nod and laugh as Justin pulls out Janine's chair for her. She sits down and Justin gently pushes her chair in and sits down. JANINE What a gentleman. JUSTIN I try. It's really nice to finally meet you. I gotta say, I'm relieved. You're normal. And pretty. JANINE (demures) Honestly, I didn't know what to expect. I mean when you're 99% compatible with someone, you gotta wonder what that one percent is, you know? A waitress comes to the table with a bottle of wine and two glasses. JUSTIN I hope you don't mind, I ordered some wine. I remembered your profile said that you like sweet wines. JANINE Impressive. The waitress pours the wine. Justin raises his glass. JUSTIN To great first impressions. JANINE And a non-deal breaking one percent! They clink glasses and each take a sip. JANINE (CONT.) Delicious. I can't believe you did your homework. JUSTIN I just wanted our first meeting to be perfect. JANINE (looking around) This is a great spot. JUSTIN Yeah, I heard about it from a friend. JANINE Oh good, you have friends. The last guy I met through Breaking the Ice didn't have any friends. Not one. It was weird. So was he. JUSTIN Well then, I'll have to thank my mom. JANINE (pauses) Oh? JUSTIN I'm just messing with you. My mom isn't my only friend. JANINE Okay. Really? Of course. (laughs) It was a joke. A really funny joke. JUSTIN I'm beginning to regret it. I'm sorry, I'm just nervous. It's really hard to meet someone. JANINE I know! In the past month I've been set up with a coworkers' cousin, my best friend's mom's former roommate's hanai son, and just last night, my mom tried to lure the UPS guy into the house with cookies so he could meet me. JUSTIN Yikes. Well, the women I've had the misfortune of meeting have been so judgmental. JANINE I hate judgmental women. JUSTIN Another thing we have in common! A slow-tempo song starts to play. JANINE AND JUSTIN I love this song! Justin stands and offers his hand to Janine. JUSTIN Shall we? Janine nods and takes his hand. They begin slow dancing. JANINE Something has to be wrong with you. JUSTIN I should tell you- JANINE Here it comes. JUSTIN I'm a guy. . .who likes cats. JANINE (wary) Cats? JUSTIN Love 'em. I have two. JANINE That's not so bad. Wait, do you torture them? Eat them? Or worse? (shudders) Dress them in tiny sailor outfits? JUSTIN What, no! That's disturbing. Maybe you're the weirdo. JANINE I'm not. You're seriously too good to be true, Justin. JUSTIN I better not tell you my cats' names. JANINE Tell me. JUSTIN Promise not to judge? JANINE I'm not like those other women. JUSTIN So there's Cheeto Bandito and Chairman Meow. (pause) You're gonna leave, aren't you? JANINE Punny cat names I can live with. Actually, I have two pot-bellied pigs. JUSTIN With punny names? JANINE Naturally. (cringes) I usually wait until the third date to reveal their names. Justin pulls her closer as they continue to dance. JUSTIN Trust me. JANINE My pigs' names are Boromir and Porkins. JUSTIN Those are really geeky references. JANINE I know. The worst part, is that I can't wait to get a third pig so I can name him Jon Hamm. JUSTIN That's adorable. The slow song sends and an upbeat song begins to play. JANINE That's my cue. (starts to leave the dance floor) I can't dance. JUSTIN You were great just now. JANINE There's nothing to slow dancing. But anything else is. . .embarrassing. JUSTIN Come on, we'll have fun. JANINE (groaning) Ugh, fine. They start dancing. At first, Justin dances appropriately. But eventually he really gets into the song. Janine tries to enjoy herself and rein in Justin by putting her hands on his hips. He power shakes her hand off and dances even more vigorously. Justin's hips are overtly sexual. He dances away from Janine then turns around and dances way back to her. Justine smiles as she thinks she's his focus, but Justin dances past her and heads straight toward a mirror. He dances with himself. Janine gives up and goes back to the table. For his finale, Justin belly glides across the floor and thrusts a few times. As the song ends, Justin cheers and claps and sees that Janine is back at their table. She has finished most of the wine. JUSTIN Whoo! Where'd you go? JANINE What was that? JUSTIN What was what? (he drinks some water and fans himself) JANINE Your dancing is very, very aggressive. JUSTIN It's just dancing. JANINE I knew it. I knew there had to be something wrong with you. JUSTIN I don't understand. You don't like me because I like to dance? That's pretty weird. And judgmental. JANINE I wasn't judging. Your hips make me uncomfortable. JUSTIN My hips?? JANINE I've never anyone dance like that. Even male strippers are (grunts and moves around) masculine. JUSTIN I thought you were different. Justin storms off. Janine remains sitting and finishes off the rest of the wine. She gets her cellphone out of her purse and opens the Breaking the Ice app, which is very similar to Tinder, in that the user swipes right if they like someone and left if they don't. Janine swipes left three times while saying: JANINE Nope, nope, nope. FADE OUT. CREDITS. Dating is hard y'all! What did you think of Breaking the Ice? Was it relatable or too far-fetched? It's my dream to shoot this short but it's hard to find a guy who's a good dancer and willing to be self-deprecating. Anyway, if you enjoyed this short script, let me know in the comments below and consider saving it to your Pinterest board so others can find this story, too! Thank you, CT.
3 Comments
My first kiss was under an ulu tree at the Bishop Museum. It was field trip day for St. Ann’s second-grade class. Instead of the stiff white, short-sleeved dress shirts tucked into confining blue plaid skirts and high-water slacks, we frolicked around in our red PE uniforms. As we trekked to Hawaiian Hall, frazzled chaperones and tired teachers did their best to contain the chaos of 64 seven-year olds. I fell behind the group with my neighbor and youth ministry buddy Ali‘i Cruz, a Hawaiian-Chinese-Filipino boy who gave me Valentine’s Day cards year round. “You like ulu?” Ali‘i asked, pointing at the bumpy, greenish-yellow fruit hanging from the tree above us. “Ulu?” I asked. Whatever it was, it looked kind of gross. “It tastes so ono,” Ali‘i said, rubbing his belly. “My mom make ‘em ‘cause das her favorite. Mines, too.” “Yum! She can make it for me?” I didn’t trust my Japanese mom not to burn it. Ali‘i shook his head and looked down. “Nah, she sick.” I patted his shoulder, something I’d seen Mom do to Dad when Bachan died. “Let’s buy her a present,” I suggested, since I loved getting gifts. In fact, whenever I visited the Cruz house, Aunty Sharon gave me cool things my mom didn’t let me have like strawberry lip gloss and baggies of cereal mix without the yucky dark brown Chex. Ali‘i shoved his hands into his red PE shorts pockets. “No money.” I pulled my Jem backpack off my shoulder and rifled through it. “I have a quarter for icee after school.” Ali‘i peered into my pack. “Eh! You get room.” We looked at each other. “For u-LA!” I cried. He giggled and corrected me, “U-LU, Lolo.” I always made dumb mistakes, but Ali‘i didn’t care. “Right. U-LU! Let’s get one!” Making sure no one was watching, we tried our best to reach the weird-looking orbs. But they were too high up. I stood on Ali‘i’s shoulders, he balanced on a trash can, and we even tried throwing our shoes to knock the prized fruit to the ground. “Ugh!” Ali‘i said, his chubby fingers struggling to tie his shoelaces. “She no cook now, anyways.” I felt even more determined to get that ulu. I kind of wanted to taste the breadfruit but mostly I wanted to make Ali‘i’s mom happy. Our families always hung out since we lived in the same cul de sac and went to the same church. Mrs. Cruz smelled good, like the Thin Mint cookies I had to sell for Girl Scouts. “Well,” I said, “we’ll make it!” Ali‘i’s round face lit up. “Can?” I nodded. “Can! After school come over, and I guess my mom can help us. We won’t let her mess it up. Then we’ll surprise your mom.” We high-fived with renewed energy, and I looked around for anything that could help us. Then I spied another breadfruit tree at the bottom of a nearby hill. There was an ulu cheerfully dangling from a low-hanging branch. If we stood at the top of the hill, we could reach it! “Come on,” I said, grabbing Ali‘i’s hand, leading him to the tree. I gently pulled the ulu off the branch, wrapped it in my red knit sweater and tucked it safely into my backpack. I smiled proudly. “Yeah!” Ali‘i said. He hugged me and gave me a peck on the lips. I was shocked, but before I could say anything we heard someone scream our names. It was our teacher, Mrs. Gomez, holding the hem of her blue palaka muumuu as she stomped towards us. “Gunfunit! Wea you kids was?” Ali‘i and I jumped away from each other. “We got lost,” Ali‘i said. “You skea awe da parents an made da teechas look bad!” She shook her head, strands of white hair falling from her bun secured with a plastic plumeria clip. “And nevamine kissing unda da ulu tree. One pervert goin’ snatch you!” I shrugged. “Sorry.” “Sorry? No lunch fo’ eeda of you!” Mrs. Gomez grabbed our arms and roughly led us to the rest of the class. “I goin’ call yo’ maddahs, an’ you goin’ get lickins,” Mrs. Gomez threatened. I saw a panicked look in Ali‘i’s eyes. “Aunty Sharon--I mean, his mom--Mrs. Cruz, is sick you know,” I said in my most adult voice. “She loss all her hair,” Ali‘i said, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. Mrs. Gomez’s face softened. “We’ll see. Get inside.” I looked back at the ulu tree, and found myself yelling, “Thank you!” Its branches swayed in the wind, waving goodbye. Aloha, reader! Thank you for stopping by to read my short story. I wrote this at a time when I was missing my own mother who passed away suddenly. I always wonder what it would've been like if we had time to prepare and say goodbye. But in this alternative world, would she have suffered? Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. Please leave a comment below or pin this to Pinterest so you can read it whenever you want a good cry. Mahalo, CT. |
Archives
November 2023
Categories
All
|