Typed on mobile, forgive errors, fast draft
INT. OFFICE - NIGHT
80's. Prufrock sits at a desk. Blank white paper. He drops a pen. Phone rings.
PRUFROCK Mmmyellow. Not good. Not much. Not , nothing.
He fiddles with the pen and listens.
PRUFROCK I ain't got nothing to say! I know. This weekend, first draft. Fine.
He slams the phone down. He runs his hand through his greasy hair.
Prufrock Gross.
INT - BATHROOM - Night
Prufrock dries off from the shower and puts on an oversized t-shirt. He looks in the mirror.
PRUFROCK Spark.
INT - Closet - night
Prufrock grabs several outfits.
INT - BATHROOM - Night
He tries on several combinations of clothes. He feels good.
PRUFROCK Yeah.
He slicks back his hair.
PRUFROCK Spark!
INT - OFFICE - NIGHT
Prufrock looks ready for a night out. He grabs his pen.
He doesn't move.
PRUFROCK Fuck.
He turns up the radio. His head beats on time.
PRUFROCK Yeah. Spark spark.
His pen in his hand. He doesn't move. He looks over at a bottle of liquor.
PRUFROCK Yeah. Spark.
He drinks deep.
PRUFROCK Spark!
He doesn't write. His hand stares at the blank page.
PRUFROCK Start.
He drinks deep. He lights a cigarette.
PRUFROCK Start a fire.
Prufrock scribbles circles across the page. He drinks deep.
PRUFROCK Spark. Tired. And bored.
His gaze turns toward a little box. He opens it. Cocaine.
PRUFROCK Spark!
He takes a deep swig. He takes a deep sniff. He grabs his pen and stares at it.
PRUFROCK Oh yeah! Now! Spark!
He turns up the radio. He turns down the radio. He takes a sniff. He takes a swig. He turns up the radio. He writes his name. "PRUFROCK."
PRUFROCK I want to fucking dance.
He writes those words. He takes a sniff and a swig. He stands. He dances to the radio.
PRUFROCK I'm hungry!
He takes a swig. He turns off the radio. He stumbles to his records. He puts on Bruce Springsteen. He takes a sniff and a swig.
PRUFROCK Oh fuck yeah!
He dances. The light is too bright. He flicks on a desk lamp and turns off the overhead lights and dances.
PRUFROCK Dancing! Spark!
His phone rings. He takes a sniff. Picks up the phone.
PRUFROCK Hey! What? I'm good! Gimme a look! I'm good! What?
He turns down the music.
PRUFROCK No no no.
He takes a swig.
PRUFROCK I'm good. I'm good.
He listens. He starts sobbing hysterically. He slams.the phone down. He puts Springsteen on full volume. He takes a sniff.
Prufrock This gun's for hire!
Prufrock moves wildly dancing. He's only lit by the small lamp on his desk.
PRUFROCK Dancing!
He takes a sniff and a swig. He jumps on his desk. He lights a cigarette. He pulls his pants down.
PRUFROCK Start a fire!
He shits directly onto the paper covered in scribbles. He wiggles his ass.
PRUFROCK Dancing in the dark! I'm dancing in the dark!
He falls off and onto his face, unconscious.
INT - OFFICE - MORNING
Prufrock wakes up. Stands. A large stack of paper. His work. He picks up the first page.
PRUFROCK I am a fucking moron.
Phone rings. He picks it up.
PRUFROCK Hi. Yeah, finished. I'm sick of sitting around here trying to write this book. It's fine. Delivered today. Fine. But it's covered in shit. I , I , I was writing in the dark.