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BRANDON
Brandon lies on his bed in his modest apartment, playing a video game. He stays buried in fantasy games and comic books because he is at the lowest point in his life but disguises that fact to others. He feebly attempts to make up with it by staying buried in his video games and comic books. He tries to hide it from his friends, but that's like saying you don't have a dog when everyone hears barking in the next room.
He's given up on women. The last one told him on their second date she was getting serious...with someone else. Being a bit overweight and a bit nerdish looking keeps him from having the confidence he needs, not only with women, but also with most other things in life.
The video game he plays is ‘THE DEFENDER’. Slow, his control stick drops, his eyes flutter, he drifts asleep.
Brandon is now The Defender, dressed in black armored outfit with a hard mask down to his nose, a bit of a Viking look. He stands on a craggy rock, surrounded by the turbulent sea, his sword held high. Waves crash all around him on the rocks as he sucks in the salty mist, bringing his senses alive.
Several ugly, spiny, snake like creatures, six feet long with several short legs, lay dead on the rocks. Some are sliced in half, other with their heads laying nearby. As Brandon stands on the rock feeling victorious, a huge creature, same as the others but ten times their size, rises out of the water. It scowls, snarls, ready to attack. It rises out of the water until it is ten feet above Brandon's head as it stares down at him.
Brandon raises his sword with both hands as the sea creature stares at the other dead sea creatures. It lowers its head out of swords path, hisses at Brandon, backs up and disappears under the water.
Feeling invincible, he smiles and slides his sword back into his sheath. He breathes deep, gazes at his surroundings. He spots a man on another rock, about thirty feet away. It’s Captain Pardel, 15th century pirate, dressed in ready for battle pirate wear.
Pardel returns Brandon's gaze. They stare at each other for a few brief moments until Pardel jumps rocks over to Brandon. As Pardel reaches him, Brandon slides his hand onto his sword.
"My name is Captain Pardel, you won’t need that, not for now anyway."
Brandon's eyes scour his body. "What do you want?"
“Aye mate, what do I want? I want you to look at me carefully."
"I would rather look at a walrus." Brandon pauses, "why do I want to look carefully at you?"
"So you know who I am when I ram my sword into your gut."
Brandon stares at the sheath that holds Pardel’s sword, then slides his out. His is huge, the sun glints off his blade, truly a magical sword. Brandon raises it high.
"Why wait mate, let's start, and finish, this now."
"Trust me lad, you'll be glad we waited. There's plenty of time to die."
Brandon slides his sword back into his sheath. "We look forward to it."
He jerks awake, sweeps his forehead with his hand, wipes the sweat on his sheet.
"Damn, that was too real." He grabs a towel off the headboard and wipes his forehead. He glances at his watch, jumps up, heads into the kitchen.
His apartment is modest, to say the least. Not much furniture and what there is looks like it came from a thrift store. Even his TV is old, a wooden console that rests on four worn legs, adorned with rabbit ears.
He lumbers into the kitchen, opens the refrigerator door. Inside is an almost empty quart of milk, a package with one piece of ham, a bottle of water, an old package of bread and a partially eaten TV dinner.
He grabs the bread, peeks inside and sees mold. Disgusted, he slams it in the garbage, grabs and gobbles the ham, snatches the water.
He sits at his old, wooden, wobbly table with only one chair and focuses on a stack of bills. He picks one up, stares at it, finally opens it. He slides the letter out, unfolds it. The letter is filled with typing but all he can see on the paper, in large red letters, 'OVERDUE CAR BILL'.
"Take your piece of crap back...I don't care."
He slams it back in the pile, struts back into the living room. He sinks into his sofa, drops his head into his hands and just sits. After a bit he raises his head, squints his eyes, looks around at his meager surroundings. Anger spreads over his face as he stares at his broken-down furniture. He grabs an empty beer bottle, stands and fires it into the TV. The picture screen shatters. He stares at the TV, motionless, breathing heavily. He grabs and squeezes his head as a low growl spurts from his lips. A quick moment passes, he screams at the TV, "I'm better than this!".
He sighs, grabs a medium sized duffle bag from the sofa and rushes out.
DEREK
Derek wears jeans and a blue company shirt. He sits in a basement, inside a chain link office surrounded by filled shelves of manuals and part open boxes. A single, dim light hangs from the ceiling. He leans back in his chair, a phone to his ear.
"Honey, I told you we would discuss that later." then listens as he leans forward.
"Yes, you know I love you." he pauses, listens more, whispers, "Damn!" as he flops back into his chair.
"No, I didn't say damn. You know I want kids. What I said was..."
The intercom interrupts. "Mr. Adler on one Derek, get ready."
"Honey, I have a customer on the other line, I gotta go. I love you and I'll talk to you when I get back." he pauses, "yes, you know I love you and want to have babies with you. I gotta go." he stares at the phone in his hand. "Damn woman, you wear me out."
He clicks the other line. "The order is almost ready Mr. Adler...yes sir, I know I said it would be out two days ago but...I know, but as I told you, we received our shipment late...no, no, you don’t have to go somewhere else, we’ll have it out by Friday...yes sir, we’ll call. Thank you for your patience Mr. Adler." he slams the phone down. "You’re a jerk off...Mr. Adler."
He sighs, leans back, glances at his watch, picks up the phone. "It’s time Rose, no more calls." He packs papers into a briefcase, slams it closed, struts out.
KYLE
Kyle sits at his desk in a sea of cubicle’s, focused on his computer, oblivious to his surroundings as he plays a game. He jerks and sways to the game as people amble by his cube. He’s so into it, he doesn’t notice that a woman, Bethany, 30, stands behind him, arms crossed. Kyle blurts out "Crap!"
He clicks the game closed, leans back, crosses his arms.
"Lost again?"
"Damn Bethany, don’t creep up on me like that."
"You’re lucky it’s me. If Mr. Houghton catches you again..."
"I have to do something between phone calls, this place sucks."
"It’s a job Kyle."
"Yeah, so is emptying portable toilets. When I took this job, I thought maybe, just maybe, I wanted a career. Turns out I just wanted a paycheck."
"Poor baby. Why don’t I pour gas on you and set you on fire, put you out of your misery."
"It's just...it's just, I feel so...so damn trapped."
Bethany gazes out at heads in other cubes. "We’re both trapped, but until you hit the lotto, do your job, play your stupid games at home. One more time Kyle, I'm putting you on notice. I'm not going to lose my damn job because I didn't do something about your screwing around during work hours. Do we understand each other?"
"Yeah...whatever."
Bethany marches away. Kyle sighs, glances at his watch, drops paperwork in his briefcase. He stands and stares at the rows of bopping heads busy in their cubes. He shakes his head. He spaces out and, for a brief moment, sheep's heads have replaced all the human heads.
From all the cubes come "Bahhh, baaahhhh, bahhh, bah, bah."
“Yeah, well 'bah bah bah' to all of you."
A conservatively dressed woman wearing glasses stands next to Kyle, she stares at him but he doesn't see her.
"Bah, Bah, Bah? What are you saying Kyle?"
Kyle jerks. "Sorry, I didn't see you standing there."
"So what does 'Bah' mean?"
"It means I'm the black sheep of the office. It means that in all this sea of humanity," he waves his hand in a wide arc, "we're all sheep, sheep being herded by our sheepherder boss. It means..."
"Okay, I get it, I gotta go." she hurries away.
"Me too, I'm outta here!" As he rushes away, he yanks his name badge from his pocket, drops it into a trash can.
SEAN
Sean hammers nails into a boxed window frame. His foreman Bud, 50, rugged looks, places a window in the opening, Sean screws it in place. Both wear hard hats.
"How’d your date go last night?" Bud asks.
"The date was fine but I'm still looking for a quarterback."
"You go out with so many different women, yet you’re still single. What’s up with that?"
"What's up with that...good question. Let's see, the dating world is like...like this large abyss full of women grabbing at you as you walk by. They want to catch you, claim you as their prize. Once they got you, well, let's just say, you're no longer the prize you were before, now they want to tame and train you."
"Profound. So you're saying you're the zebra being chased by lions?"
"Exactly. When one of them doesn’t chase me, she may be the right one."
"What’s the right one? I mean, what are you looking for?"
"I’m not really looking...but if I were, she’d have to have a child like sense of innocence, curious and amazed by the world around her."
"You’re saying you want to date an eight-year old?"
Sean smiles. "Kinda’ sick but...yes, I want that eight-year old in a grown-up woman who still loves going to a playground with other kids."
Bud grins. "That’s why you’re still looking."
"Fate, my man, fate. I could be stranded on an island and find the woman of my dreams."
Bud's curious attitude changes to all business. "Listen Sean, I need to talk to you about your job."
"Sooo, this is it."
"You knew this was coming?"
"I thought I might make it."
"I’m not going to draw it out. This economy has killed us. I’ll call you when we pick up another job." Bud stares at Sean. "I’m really sorry Sean."
Sean picks up his tools, turns. "Yeah, I'm sorry too but...I’m a fighter...I’ll survive."