In the tradition of 'Being John Malkovich' ...

... I have begun to work on a screenplay involving an actual real actor. I have just written the opening of a screenplay which would feature Anna Paquin as herself. This originates with the fact that I have the same birthday as her, and it kind of went crazy following a conversation I had with the other Jef in my screenwriting class.

On a vaguely related note, I really like this little scene for which I stole my stepbrother's name.

INT. BEDROOM -- LATE MORNING

The alarm clock is going off, analog and a decade old and sounding furious. PETER LORENZ -- early 20’s and apparantly lacking in the sleep department -- rolls over and strikes uselessly at his alarm clock.

Opening his eyes he finds a little more success in getting the alarm to shut off, and with a groan he mobilizes. He rolls off the bed and seems to land on his feet only by luck. He drags his sheets behind him for several feet as he makes his way to the door, rubbing his eyes.

INT. KITCHEN -- MOMENTS LATER

Peter walks into the kitchen, yawning and looking scarcely alive. He walks over to the counter and grabs the carafe from the coffee pot. His movements all inertia, really, as if he has no energy of his own, he manages to get the carafe under the faucet in the sink and turns it on.

Once the carafe fills, he fills the coffee pot from it, getting most of it into the machine while making sure the counter top gets a bit of a wash, too.
He opens the filter tray and takes out the removable filter-holder. Taking a step and pivoting, showing an amazing economy of motion, he upends it into the trash can and empties it of grounds and old filter.

Without rinsing, he puts a new filter in and opens the lid of the coffee can.
With the lid off, A WHOLE LOT OF JOKE SPRING SNAKES, shoot out into the air and hit him in the face. Peter falls back.

PETER
What the fuck?!

He lands on the floor amid a spray of spring snakes, trying not to smile, still looking a little shaken. He stands up slowly, a lot more awake, and looks into the can.

Inside is no coffee, but there is a note. The camera zooms in past his shoulder to show what it reads. “Pete, Since we’re out of coffee, I thought I’d try to help you wake up. I’ll pick some up after work. Love, Calvin.”

Peter takes the note out and crumbles it, throwing it at the trashcan, missing, and kicking a spring snake.

MUSIC: tom waits: grapfruit moon