RETURN TO MAIN
FADE IN: "DEAD CANDY"
EXT. URBAN PHARMACY, BACK STEPS -- DAY
A uniformed drugstore clerk, NANCY BIKINI (29) sits on the
back stairs of the drugstore smoking a cigarette. From her
chipped toenail polish to the scars and bruises on her upper
arms, she looks worse for wear. It's 4:50 pm, toward the end
of her shift.
Her VOICE OVER begins as her figure gets smaller and smaller
as a panoramic view of the busy city unfolds.
NANCY (V.O.)
My name is Nancy Bikini. I've
always thought of myself as a
two-piece: one part of me is
ashamed, and the other part is
covered up. I've got a good job
now, all I have to do is forget
the past. Ashes to ashes. Even
if it wasn't my gig to start out
with, I participated in it--made
good on a bad thing. No matter how
many times I try to forget the faces,
I still see the sick ones. Most
of them are dead.
INT. UPPER EAST SIDE TOWNHOUSE -- DAY
Nancy is outfitted in a candy striper outfit. She moves around
the spacious kitchen area preparing eight little plates of food.
There is a large tray to her left. Sunlight pours in the large
kitchen windows.
NANCY (cont.)
I'd been a nanny for eight months,
that's how I got to New York. This
rich couple wanted me to take care
of their kid. Then they said I could
go work for their friend, another
rich man, he even lived on the same
street, East 72nd.
Nancy opens a drawer in the kitchen. It is stocked full of prescription
drugs, ointments and various pill-cutters and empty capsules. She doles
out a supplement of one or two pills in white paper cups as a sidedish
to the meals.
NANCY (cont.)
I was relieved that he didn't have
any kids. They told me he always had
guests in the house! Peter Frankel,
the good neighbor.
She walks back to the counter and loads the dishes on a tray.
As Nancy walks down the elegant hallway to the back stairs, a well-
dressed man, PETER FRANKEL (43) intercepts her on the way.
PETER
What are we feeding the turtles
today? Ah, shredded lettuce, a
square of cheese. Something with
protein, that's nice. Do you like
looking at my turtles Nancy?
NANCY
I wish you wouldn't talk about
them that way. The way you talk
about them is really inhuman.
PETER
They are going to die. Nancy,
I'm surprised that you are so
sentimental. Now, are you ready
for a surprise? One of our last
guests was a dentist, and he
left his laughing gas behind!
NANCY
Is this your idea of a joke?
PETER
I find humor where I can, Nancy.
We can't be dark all the time.
There's so much living for
those who are alive to do.
As he points the hose at Nancy, she continues marching down the hall.
Nancy passes a framed photo of Peter shaking hands with city officials
placed prominently on the wall.
INT SICK ROOM DAY
Through a set of swinging doors, she walks through makeshift partitions
between the Four SICK BEDS. Bunk-style, double-decker cots line both
sides of each room.
In the sick room, A total of EIGHT SICK PEOPLE reach out for the tray
as she approaches. JOHN GREGORI (41) is dying of throat cancer.
STEPHEN MYERS (34) is dying of liver cancer. JOYCE DAWES, is sick with
lymphoma, a blood cancer. A very ill woman across from Joyce, EDNA NORTON,
tosses and turns.
John is located on the lower bunk across from Joyce. Stephen is above Joyce.
NANCY
It's lunch time. Rise and shine.
We have a little salad, cheese,
medication and a cracker snack.
JOHN
(very weak)
Give us our drugs. Can't you see
we aren't strong enough to eat?
STEPHEN
He's a vampire, Nancy. He comes in
here at night and waits for one of
us to die. He wants us all to die
so he can get new bodies into his
beds. That's a real sick man.
NANCY
You shouldn’t say that. Mr. Frankel
is your guardian angel.
JOYCE
He's the angel of death. We're sheep,
fleeced of our drugs. We know what he's
up to. You'll be part of it to. And
we'll be dead. There'll be nobody to
see it.
NANCY
(to Joyce, combing
what's left of her hair.)
I don't know what you are talking
about. I get paid by the hour,
like any job. I'm learning a lot
about these things.
She holds up the pills.
NANCY (cont.)
Science has made lots of advances.
JOHN
You can lie to the sick, but you
can't bullshit the dying. You've
done your job. Just let us die off
in peace.
She walks into the next room.
NANCY (V.O.)
There were no photographs in the
livingroom, just a bare mantlepiece.
In history books he used to be
fascinated by the way other cultures
treated the remains of their dead.
INT WELL-LIT UPSTAIRS EVENING
Nancy walks into the living room where a small party is going on.
A woman, ANGELA LAKE (39) and her daughter NIKKI (16) are seated with
Peter. They are making small talk and having a good time. Peter rises
as Nancy enters the room.
PETER
Here's one of my candy stripers.
Nancy, I'd like you to meet Angela
and Nikki Lake. Nikki is thinking
about joining our ranks. Her mother
tells me she wants to be a nurse someday.
Nancy sits down with the group.
ANGELA
(to Nancy)
I think this is such valuable
experience. Maybe she won’t smoke
anymore. Hopefully, if she sees
someone dying of lung cancer--
the message will hit home.
NANCY
It does change you, working in
a place like this.
ANGELA
God, it's such a kick. I know
so many people who talk about
volunteer work, but wow, opening
a hospice under your own roof.
That's really commitment. All
of us at the club were shocked
when Peter first brought it up.
He plays tennis with my husband.
A hospice? God, who would decorate
it, you know? I think that would
be such a challenge.
NANCY
Does your daughter really want
to be a nurse?
ANGELA
No. It's so degrading, at the
beck and call of the sick.
NANCY
My mother is a nurse.
ANGELA
That's wonderful. Isn't that nice.
Out of earshot, Peter and Nikki are engaged in a flirtatious conversation.
NIKKI
I look much older with a cigarette.
Most people would never guess I'm
16. It's gross being a teen, finally
I'm over the hump.
PETER
You look like you are developing
just fine. I once had a girlfriend
your age, of course I was younger
then. Do I look old?
NANCY
(loud to Peter)
How long would Nikki be here?
PETER
I guess that's up to Mom.
ANGELA
(to Nikki)
Dad and I will be traveling in Europe.
(to Peter)
All summer?
PETER
Consider her our guest. Nikki,
think of this as your home.
NIKKI
Do I have to wear one of those
uniforms like she does?
PETER
Yes indeed. From now on you'll
be my candy striper. Don't you
want to look the part?
Nikki rolls her eyes.
INT. TOWNHOUSE WINDOW -- EVENING
Nancy watches Nikki's suitcases move in. Her VOICE OVER resumes.
NANCY (V.O.)
I was looking for any ally, but
Nikki was too young to know what
was crucial in life. Peter already
had a grip on her. She wasn't a
bad kid; she liked what she saw
and wanted an exciting life.
INT. LIVINGROOM ART COLLECTION NIGHT
Peter is giving Nikki a tour of his object d'art.
PETER
Do you like art?
NIKKI
I think so.
PETER
That's good. I think living is art.
NIKKI
Is that why there are all these
people dying in your house?
PETER
You didn't look so smart when
your mother was here. Take off
your shoes and let me look at
your feet.
Nikki is embarrassed, but slips out of her sandals.
PETER (CONT’D.)
All women are afraid of their
feet. You are a woman I see.
I asked you before, how old do
I look?
NIKKI
Older than me!
PETER
Too old to be your boyfriend?
Nancy walks in and interrupts.
NANCY
(to Peter)
I'm going to do the dinner round.
Can you tell me what I'm supposed
to give them?
Peter follows Nancy into the kitchen, talking to her as they pass down
the hallway.
PETER
I hate the way you burst in on us.
Terminally ill people don't have the
same immediate needs as you or me.
Maintenance can wait.
INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT
Peter refers to a chart with all of the patient's requirement. He skimps on
their nightly dose, cutting their allotment of pills by more than half, as
he scratches out pencils marks on their charts and rewrites the dosages.
PETER
I don't want anyone going into this drawer except for me. You hear that?
Not the girl, not you--just me.
Nancy nods her head, looks confused at the small dosage, but fills the
paper cups with the pills. From his pants' pocket, Peter takes out a METAL
FILM CANNISTER and nonchalantly shovels a few pills into his mouth.
NANCY
Should I show Nikki around the
sickroom?
PETER
Wait until morning. The guests
should be seen in the best light.
Do they ever frighten you, Nancy?
NANCY
Peter, they are sick, but they
are just people.
Nancy continues fixing 8 small glasses of juice and crackers to go with the pills.
PETER
I could never eat soft fruit when
I was a child. I hated anything that
I thought might be rotten on the
inside. Hard apples, the way the
skin breaks under your teeth,
those are my favorite.
Nancy slips some extra pills into her apron pocket as Peter is busy fixing
himself a nightcap.
NANCY
Is the maitre d' of the hospice
afraid of death?
PETER
Afraid of rotting, Nancy. I don't
want to rot. I want to be killed by
accident, have my head ripped off.
INT. TOWNHOUSE HALLWAY -- NIGHT
As Nancy walks down the corridor, Peter continues to talk. Almost as if to himself
PETER (O.S.)
I don't want to watch my insides
turn into cheese. I don't want my body
to become a bag full of mold. You're
right, I like to watch. I'm fascinated
with my guests. They do all the rotting
for me.
INT. HOSPICE WING -- NIGHT
As Nancy dishes out the nightly round of pills to the SICK PEOPLE, we hear her
VOICE OVER. She reaches into her pockets and sneaks out extra pills for the
patients as she makes her rounds.
INT. FIRST PRIVATE SICK ROOM -- NIGHT
NANCY (V.O.)
From the beginning I tried to
make up the right amount of pills
for each dosage. I'd pick up extra
capsules here and there. It was
easy to skim off the excess,
especially when Peter was drinking
at night.
The sick people roll over and take the tidbits as she passes by.
INT. TOWNHOUSE NIKKI'S BEDROOM UPSTAIRS -- NIGHT
Peter is loitering in the hallway outside Nikki's bedroom, which is located
on the beautifully decorated upper level of the townhouse. Nikki is clad in
a form-fitting striped t-shirt. Peter knocks on the slightly open door.
PETER
You're even a candy striper at night.
You look splendid in stripes.
NIKKI
Are you perverted?
Peter lets himself in and closes the door.
PETER
Is it perverted to admire a
living thing?
NIKKI
It's kind of weird to have you
in here. I mean, it's night and
everything.
PETER
I came here on a mission, actually.
Think of me as a pearl diver.
He reaches into his film cannister and retrieves two yellow pills.
PETER (CONT’D.)
These are Dilaudids, painkillers for
terminal cancer patients. Doctors know
how to make us feel very good, Nikki,
but they waste their talent on the sick.
|