Conversations With God

By Brian Cerrillo

 

FADE IN:

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--

GOD
(quietly)
Dallas?

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...

GOD(CONT'D)
(loud, not yelling)
Dallas?

An bright overhead light focuses itself above Dallas.

DALLAS
What the...

GOD
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.

DALLAS
Hello?

GOD
Hello. Are you on your way up?

DALLAS
(still confused)
Up where?

GOD
Well, up here with me...

Dallas can't find the words, God moves on...

GOD
(CONT'D)
Things not going so well, huh?

Dallas looks at the gun, the calendar, the suicide note.

DALLAS
No. No, things aren't going good at all. I just... I feel...
(getting honest)
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?

GOD
Not completely, no. I was only briefed a few minutes prior to our conversation.

DALLAS
Briefed?

GOD
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.

DALLAS
Hmm. Interesting... What are some other misconceptions?

GOD
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.

DALLAS
Oh, I wouldn't think of doing that.

GOD
But you just did think of that!

DALLAS
What? How did.... Oh, so that's not one of the misconceptions.

GOD
Actually, it is. I was only guessing.
(off Dallas' reaction)
God's allowed to have a sense of humor, isn't he?

DALLAS
Sure. Yeah. Great.

GOD
Let's get started.

Dallas
takes a deep breath, plunges in.

DALLAS
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.

DALLAS (CONT'D)
...And that's why I think the Yankees should trade him. A .297 average isn't what it used to be.

GOD
I disagree. I think he still has a few good seasons left in him.

DALLAS
Well, you would know.(looking at clock)Wow! Is it really 5:30?

GOD
Actually, it's 8:30 up here. I like to sync up to eastern time.

DALLAS
Oh, that's cool. Hey, before you go, can I hear about those misconceptions?

GOD
All in good time. This is a process. Perhaps tomorrow night.

GOD DALLAS
Alright. Well, Goodbye
(nothing)
Hello?
(nothing)
Really? No goodbye... From God! Another misconception.

Dallas clicks off the TV.

INT. DALLAS' APARTMENT - EVENING

Dallas comes in, looks up, checks his watch...

DALLAS
(checking, gently)
Hello?

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.

GOD
(booming)
DALLAS!!!

DALLAS
(looking up)
I was wondering if you were coming back.

GOD
I wouldn't leave you hanging... No pun intended.

Dallas doesn't laugh, God picks up on this.

GOD (CONT'D)
Okay... How we feeling today?

DALLAS
I dunno... I'm feeling uneasy.

GOD
How come?

DALLAS
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?

GOD
I wish I could. Not everybody counts down the days like you.

DALLAS
What? Do I go on to do something special with my life? Do I save somebody else's life? What is it?

GOD
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.

DALLAS
It offends you?

GOD
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.

Dallas tries to take it all in.

DALLAS
I guess I never thought of it that way.

GOD
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.

-- Montage.

... 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.

DALLAS
So, tell me... What are these misconceptions?

GOD
Let's wait until tomorrow night. It'll be a little perk for completing these sessions.

DALLAS
(disappointed)
Really?... Alright.

GOD
Good. Besides this is about you. Try and stay focused. Think. You seem to have an issue with that.

DALLAS
(amused)
That's funny. Cheryl used to say that to me.

GOD
I know.

Dallas ponders that for an emotional moment.

DALLAS
Alright, but tomorrow for sure, right?

GOD
Hey, would God lie to you?

DALLAS
No, I guess he wouldn't... Okay. Thanks. Goodbye.
(nothing)
Hello?... You've got to be kidding me.

GOD
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...

DALLAS
Man... (looking up)
Hello?
(nothing)
Hello?... God?

INT. DALLAS' APARTMENT - LATER Dallas pacing around living room, shaking his head.

DALLAS
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?

DALLAS
Good... Hey, how did you know my name?

GIRL NEXT DOOR
(realizes, thinks)
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...

Their eyes lock for the briefest romantic moment.

DALLAS
So I've heard... Do you think... Would you like to come in?

Dallas is pleasantly surprised by his own invitation, as is the Girl. They try and suppress their smiles.

GIRL NEXT DOOR
Yeah... That'd be great.

She crosses the threshold. He shuts the door.

CUT TO BLACK.



 

 

Brian Cerrillo was born and raised in Vancouver, Washington. Currently, he’s enrolled in the digital film program at The Art Institute Of California – Los Angeles. Conversations With God is Brian’s first published work. He has also completed a feature-length screenplay entitled A Moment’s Notice. More recently, he’s working on Take A Number, a sitcom that paints a picture of life inside the DMV.

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