Conversations With God
By Brian Cerrillo
INT. DALLAS' APARTMENT - NIGHT
Windex is sprayed on a coffee table, wiped clean. The picture of a beautiful woman is cleaned, set down. A handwritten note is put in place. Next to it, a hand places a pistol with a heavy "clunk", completing the shrine.
DALLAS, late-twenties, sits in his recliner. There is an immediate impression radiating off him. A man that has been emotionally, mentally and spiritually cut off at the knees.
He pulls out the "Death Calendar" from beneath an end table. A series of days have a black X across them building towards a day colored in red. That day is today. He drags an "X" across it in black marker.
Dallas grabs the gun, studies it, getting a feel for how he might do it; the temple, the mouth. As emotion and fear rise to the top, he begins to whimper. Perhaps, upset that suicide is more difficult than he thought. The crying transmutes into a deep exhale. He's focused. No expression, no tears, no looking around the room. With a white-knuckle grip, he puts the gun to his head, closes his eyes. This is it--
The lights surge slightly. Opening his eyes, Dallas looks around, nonplussed. Did he even hear anything? He grabs his phone, puts it to his ear. Nope. Then, he scoots forward and listens to the television. No. Gun back to head...
(loud, not yelling)
An bright overhead light focuses itself above Dallas.
Whoops. Sorry, lemme adjust the volume here.
Dallas jumps up, eyes like daggers. He studies the light. Then, shrugs his shoulders in a "what the hell" type manner.
Hello. Are you on your way up?
GODDallas can't find the words, God moves on...
Well, up here with me...
GODDallas looks at the gun, the calendar, the suicide note.
Things not going so well, huh?
No. No, things aren't going good at all. I just... I feel...
You know what? I really don't even feel anything anymore. I can't get passed what happened to my life, my wife... Do you... Well, you probably know all about it, right?
Not completely, no. I was only briefed a few minutes prior to our conversation.
Yeah. There are some common misconceptions about me. One just happens to be that I'm privy to every single Earth event. Like I have an AP wire streaming the pulse of the earth to me.
Hmm. Interesting... What are some other misconceptions?
Never mind that. We're here to talk about you. So, fill me in... And don't leave out any parts in order to save face, cause I'll find out.
Oh, I wouldn't think of doing that.
But you just did think of that!
What? How did.... Oh, so that's not one of the misconceptions.
Actually, it is. I was only guessing.
(off Dallas' reaction)
God's allowed to have a sense of humor, isn't he?
Sure. Yeah. Great.
Let's get started.
takes a deep breath, plunges in.
Okay... Well, you see God...
-- Montage follows.
... Dallas shuffling around the room, gun in hand, obviously emotional.
... Dallas showing the picture of his wife to God.
... Dallas kicked back in chair, looking to heaven, talking.
-- End Montage.
...And that's why I think the Yankees should trade him. A .297 average isn't what it used to be.
I disagree. I think he still has a few good seasons left in him.
Well, you would know.(looking at clock)Wow! Is it really 5:30?
Actually, it's 8:30 up here. I like to sync up to eastern time.
Oh, that's cool. Hey, before you go, can I hear about those misconceptions?
All in good time. This is a process. Perhaps tomorrow night.
Alright. Well, Goodbye
Really? No goodbye... From God! Another misconception.
Dallas clicks off the TV.
INT. DALLAS' APARTMENT - EVENING
Dallas comes in, looks up, checks his watch...
Nothing. Dallas wonders, shuffles into the living room and drops into his recliner. He pours his head into his hands, thinks. His demeanor is hard to read. Then-¬
--A halo of light crashes onto Dallas.
I was wondering if you were coming back.
GODDallas doesn't laugh, God picks up on this.
I wouldn't leave you hanging... No pun intended.
Okay... How we feeling today?
I dunno... I'm feeling uneasy.
Hey, look, God all of a sudden shows up in my living room and saves my life... I mean... It almost creates more questions than answers... Why me? Do you drop in on everybody that tries to off themselves?
I wish I could. Not everybody counts down the days like you.
What? Do I go on to do something special with my life? Do I save somebody else's life? What is it?
There are, obviously, certain things I can't tell you. Now, I gave you this life, and you can do anything you want with it, good or bad... But putting a gun in your mouth... Frankly, it offends me.
It offends you?
GODDallas tries to take it all in.
Son, have you taken a good look around lately. You think all this creation was easy?... Blue sky, raging rivers, palm trees, freewill, love, wildlife, Disneyland, sunflower seeds... All for you. So when you talk about throwing away all my hard work, yeah, it offends me.
I guess I never thought of it that way.
That's your problem, you're not thinking... Grab your bible, will you, let's get going.
Dallas swallows the lump in his throat, reaches for his bible.
... Dallas holding the bible, reading verses with God.
... Dallas and God playing chess, with God's pieces moving by themselves.
... Dallas sitting in his recliner, taking notes from God.
-- End montage.
Dallas kicked back in his chair, sleepy.
So, tell me... What are these misconceptions?
Let's wait until tomorrow night. It'll be a little perk for completing these sessions.
Good. Besides this is about you. Try and stay focused. Think. You seem to have an issue with that.
That's funny. Cheryl used to say that to me.
GODDallas ponders that for an emotional moment.
Alright, but tomorrow for sure, right?
Hey, would God lie to you?
No, I guess he wouldn't... Okay. Thanks. Goodbye.
Hello?... You've got to be kidding me.
I am. Goodbye, Dallas.
Dallas smiles and heads to bed.
INT. DALLAS' APARTMENT - EVENING
The sound of the front door closing. Dallas walks into the living room, turns on the TV. Checks the clock: 10:45. He sits anxious, uncomfortable. His lips purse as he contemplates. Finally...
DALLASINT. DALLAS' APARTMENT - LATER Dallas pacing around living room, shaking his head.
Man... (looking up)
God? Are you there?... I don't believe it. I got stood up by God.
A nearby clock begins to chime loudly, but it's 12:37. Weird. The chimes seem to be coming from all around, not the clock.
INT. DALLAS' APARTMENT - NIGHT (DAY 1)
Dallas wakes. It's late at night. He wonders if it was all a dream. No, it can't be. He looks at the calendar. Back to normal. Looks at the pad of paper with the suicide note. Back to normal too. He thinks real hard. A look of peace washes over him. He crosses out the red day with an X, puts his wife's picture back. Suddenly, a knock at the front door.
I/E. DALLAS' APARTMENT, FRONT DOOR - NIGHT (DAY 1)
Standing at the door is a very cute "girl-next-door", with a handful of pamphlets.
GIRL NEXT DOOR
Hi, Dallas. How are you doing this evening?
Good... Hey, how did you know my name?
GIRL NEXT DOORTheir eyes lock for the briefest romantic moment.
You know what? I don't know. Weird. Anyway, um...
(Looking for words)
I'm going door to door tonight because there are a lot of misconceptions about God...
DALLASDallas is pleasantly surprised by his own invitation, as is the Girl. They try and suppress their smiles.
So I've heard... Do you think... Would you like to come in?
GIRL NEXT DOOR
Yeah... That'd be great.
She crosses the threshold. He shuts the door.
CUT TO BLACK.