A short script I wrote. To hear me read it with a really bad british accent:
It works best if you listen as I read aloud:
---
Therapist: So… Can you tell me why exactly you’re in therapy?
Anthony: I really don’t think-
Therapist: I have your file. I already know.
Anthony: So it was just a formality?
Therapist: (Nodding) Mmhm.
Anthony: It was a devastating experience. I mean, does my file say that? Does my file say how fucked up that could make a man? Especially a man of my stature?
Therapist: Nope.
Anthony: But you at least figured out that it was implied, didn’t-
Therapist: Nope.
Anthony: But-
Therapist: Really, I didn’t.
Anthony: Oh. Well, I mean-
Therapist: Listen, you’re coming in at a bad time. Not just 3:00, when I normally have my coffee, but a bad time in my life. I’m about to retire, so as of… Well, an hour ago, when I made the announcement, I officially stopped giving a shit.
(There is a long pause)
Anthony: Are you sure you should be saying that? In here?
(The lights come up. They are in some kind of asylum with patients walking around. It can be assumed that these patients all belong to the THERAPIST)
Therapist: It’s fine. They’re all crazy anyway.
Man from back of room: I’m not.
Therapist: Says you. I have a degree.
Man From Back of Room: So do I!
Therapist: You have a degree in Chemical Engineering. That proves nothing. Ashton Kutcher has a degree in Chemical Engineering.
(The man shuffles off)
Anthony: I don’t think he’s crazy. He seemed quite lucid to me.
Therapist: Of course he did. You’re crazy. You crazy people think other crazy people are normal, and thusly, cannot be counted on to give a medical opinion. It’s simple, really.
(There is another long pause)
Anthony: So… When do you stop working?
Therapist: You’re my last appointment, actually. So… In fifteen minutes, if you hurry it up so I can stamp this paper and institutionalize you.
Anthony: Oh. Alright, I guess.
Therapist: Good. Begin.
Anthony: Wait, before we start… What was the Chemical Engineer in here for? Why is he crazy?
Therapist: Why do you want to know? You can’t know. Patient/doctor confidentiality.
Anthony: Honestly, you’re not going to be a doctor much longer.
Therapist: Good point. He’s an expert in martial arts and instead of kicking ass when a gang of hooligans rode into town, he filed a court order for them to cease and desist. When they didn’t, he pressed the DA and had charges filed. Before he could go to court, he had to get a clean bill of health, and someone who doesn’t kick ass when ass kicking is needed certainly isn’t sane.
Anthony: I see. There’s no chance that I’m going to walk away from this, is there?
Therapist: A very, very slim chance.
Anthony: (sighs) Alright, well… There was that dragon. And the princess. And he kidnapped her.
Therapist: So your file says.
Anthony: Right. And when I went to rescue her, she said she wanted to stay with the dragon.
Therapist: So your file also says.
Anthony: And that devastated me, so instead of killing the dragon, I went and filed for divorce.
Therapist: I see.
Anthony: And that’s about the long and the short of it, really.
Therapist: But they sent you to me for a reason.
Anthony: Right, well, I told the court I wanted to get a clean bill of health. As long as the state is paying for it, I don’t mind at all. Besides, I thought you of all people might understand what I’m going through.
Therapist: Why is that?
Anthony: Because… (Whispers) You’re a dragon.
Therapist: I beg your pardon?
Anthony: (Shouts) You’re a dragon! Great, isn’t it!
Therapist: Yes, except I’m not.
Anthony: (Winks) Of course, doctor. Not a dragon at all. Alright, listen. Could you put a good word in with your friend that has my princess? I mean, it’d mean a whole lot to me if you’d just suggest that she’s a domineering bitch not worth staying with.
Therapist: Why would I do that?
Anthony: I don’t want to say I’m blackmailing you…
Therapist: How can you be blackmailing me?
Anthony: You don’t put a good word in, and I’ll tell everyone that you’re a dragon. Now, after my rival dumps my girlfriend, she’ll be impressed with my new wing-span-
Therapist: Your new what?
Anthony: Pay attention, this is important. My wing-span. I’ve already prayed to Helios and he, in all of his infinite wisdom, has decided to grant me wings. I’ll fly in, sweep her off her feet, literally, doctor, and we’ll be madly in love. Just imagine it now.
Therapist: You know, I really can’t.
Anthony: But you’ll talk to your dragon friend for me, then?
Therapist: I… There’s…. I suppose I could.
Anthony: Excellent.
Therapist: Let me just go and file this paperwork immediately on your behalf.
(The therapist turns and runs out of the room, clearly alarmed. The lights dim on ANTHONY, who is still seated. He flexes his back and wings shoot out of his shirt. He stands, whistles, and walks off stage.)
END.
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Mal
It works best if you listen as I read aloud:
---
Therapist: So… Can you tell me why exactly you’re in therapy?
Anthony: I really don’t think-
Therapist: I have your file. I already know.
Anthony: So it was just a formality?
Therapist: (Nodding) Mmhm.
Anthony: It was a devastating experience. I mean, does my file say that? Does my file say how fucked up that could make a man? Especially a man of my stature?
Therapist: Nope.
Anthony: But you at least figured out that it was implied, didn’t-
Therapist: Nope.
Anthony: But-
Therapist: Really, I didn’t.
Anthony: Oh. Well, I mean-
Therapist: Listen, you’re coming in at a bad time. Not just 3:00, when I normally have my coffee, but a bad time in my life. I’m about to retire, so as of… Well, an hour ago, when I made the announcement, I officially stopped giving a shit.
(There is a long pause)
Anthony: Are you sure you should be saying that? In here?
(The lights come up. They are in some kind of asylum with patients walking around. It can be assumed that these patients all belong to the THERAPIST)
Therapist: It’s fine. They’re all crazy anyway.
Man from back of room: I’m not.
Therapist: Says you. I have a degree.
Man From Back of Room: So do I!
Therapist: You have a degree in Chemical Engineering. That proves nothing. Ashton Kutcher has a degree in Chemical Engineering.
(The man shuffles off)
Anthony: I don’t think he’s crazy. He seemed quite lucid to me.
Therapist: Of course he did. You’re crazy. You crazy people think other crazy people are normal, and thusly, cannot be counted on to give a medical opinion. It’s simple, really.
(There is another long pause)
Anthony: So… When do you stop working?
Therapist: You’re my last appointment, actually. So… In fifteen minutes, if you hurry it up so I can stamp this paper and institutionalize you.
Anthony: Oh. Alright, I guess.
Therapist: Good. Begin.
Anthony: Wait, before we start… What was the Chemical Engineer in here for? Why is he crazy?
Therapist: Why do you want to know? You can’t know. Patient/doctor confidentiality.
Anthony: Honestly, you’re not going to be a doctor much longer.
Therapist: Good point. He’s an expert in martial arts and instead of kicking ass when a gang of hooligans rode into town, he filed a court order for them to cease and desist. When they didn’t, he pressed the DA and had charges filed. Before he could go to court, he had to get a clean bill of health, and someone who doesn’t kick ass when ass kicking is needed certainly isn’t sane.
Anthony: I see. There’s no chance that I’m going to walk away from this, is there?
Therapist: A very, very slim chance.
Anthony: (sighs) Alright, well… There was that dragon. And the princess. And he kidnapped her.
Therapist: So your file says.
Anthony: Right. And when I went to rescue her, she said she wanted to stay with the dragon.
Therapist: So your file also says.
Anthony: And that devastated me, so instead of killing the dragon, I went and filed for divorce.
Therapist: I see.
Anthony: And that’s about the long and the short of it, really.
Therapist: But they sent you to me for a reason.
Anthony: Right, well, I told the court I wanted to get a clean bill of health. As long as the state is paying for it, I don’t mind at all. Besides, I thought you of all people might understand what I’m going through.
Therapist: Why is that?
Anthony: Because… (Whispers) You’re a dragon.
Therapist: I beg your pardon?
Anthony: (Shouts) You’re a dragon! Great, isn’t it!
Therapist: Yes, except I’m not.
Anthony: (Winks) Of course, doctor. Not a dragon at all. Alright, listen. Could you put a good word in with your friend that has my princess? I mean, it’d mean a whole lot to me if you’d just suggest that she’s a domineering bitch not worth staying with.
Therapist: Why would I do that?
Anthony: I don’t want to say I’m blackmailing you…
Therapist: How can you be blackmailing me?
Anthony: You don’t put a good word in, and I’ll tell everyone that you’re a dragon. Now, after my rival dumps my girlfriend, she’ll be impressed with my new wing-span-
Therapist: Your new what?
Anthony: Pay attention, this is important. My wing-span. I’ve already prayed to Helios and he, in all of his infinite wisdom, has decided to grant me wings. I’ll fly in, sweep her off her feet, literally, doctor, and we’ll be madly in love. Just imagine it now.
Therapist: You know, I really can’t.
Anthony: But you’ll talk to your dragon friend for me, then?
Therapist: I… There’s…. I suppose I could.
Anthony: Excellent.
Therapist: Let me just go and file this paperwork immediately on your behalf.
(The therapist turns and runs out of the room, clearly alarmed. The lights dim on ANTHONY, who is still seated. He flexes his back and wings shoot out of his shirt. He stands, whistles, and walks off stage.)
END.
-
Mal
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