DEREK:
That again?
FRANCINE:
You honestly think we could afford to rent an apartment in a place like this?
SOUND:
OFF-MIC, AN OLD-FASHIONED “PING”! AS THE ELEVATOR ARRIVES. THE DOORS OPEN. WINKLER APPROACHES.
FRANCINE:
Maybe we should ask this guy what he pays.
DEREK:
I’m not asking him that! It’s personal.
FRANCINE:
You’re happy to get up on stage in front of a roomful of strangers and do a ten-minute routine about your sick fantasies about the Borg chick from Star Trek: Voyager, but you don’t want to ask someone how much rent they pay?
WINKLER:
(APPROACHING) Mr Weathers? We spoke on the telephone.
DEREK:
That’s right! Mr, uh..?
WINKLER:
Winkler.
DEREK:
Winkler, right, right. Like the Fonz. (WEAKLY) On that... old TV show.
WINKLER:
I know who the Fonz is.
DEREK:
’Course you do. I mean... who doesn’t know the Fonz?
WINKLER:
This lovely young lady is your wife?
DEREK:
She’s not my wife, she’s-
FRANCINE:
Francine. Francine Spinetti is who I am. Hi.
WINKLER:
Good afternoon. (PAUSE) So... you’re not married.
DEREK:
Is that a problem? Because... we could be married.
FRANCINE:
We couldn’t. We really couldn’t.
DEREK:
Well, the ad does say “would suit professional couple”.
WINKLER:
There’s no code of ethics for tenants, except, of course, in showing consideration to others – loud music after a certain hour, trash in the hallways...
DEREK:
Sure.
WINKLER:
But everyone is welcome to apply – married, single, gay, straight.
DEREK:
We’re both straight. Completely straight. Straight... together.
FRANCINE:
I think he figured that out already, Derek.
DEREK:
And we are a professional couple.
FRANCINE:
We’re a couple. I don’t know about the “professional” part.
DEREK:
Francine works in a bookstore, and I’m a comedian.
WINKLER:
Really. That must be very rewarding.
FRANCINE:
You’d think so.
WINKLER:
Now, before you view the apartment, is there anything you’d like to ask?
DEREK:
No, no, we’re good.
FRANCINE:
(CLEARS HER THROAT POINTEDLY)
DEREK:
Oh yeah...
SOUND:
HE PRODUCES A NEWSPAPER.
DEREK:
Now this might sound a little weird-
FRANCINE:
Is this really what you’re asking for rent?
WINKLER:
Let me see... (HE MUMBLES NONSENSICALLY AS HE READS OVER THE AD) Yes, that seems to be correct.
FRANCINE:
That’s per month? Not per week or per day?
WINKLER:
Per month, as stated. Right --- there.
SOUND:
HE RETURNS THE NEWSPAPER.
DEREK:
(WITH OBVIOUS RELIEF) Thanks. We were just saying on our way over here that- well, it seems unusually low for a Manhattan apartment. (TO FRANCINE) Isn’t that what we were saying, honey?
FRANCINE:
(A TOUCH FROSTY) Something like that. (TO WINKLER) So Mr. Winkler -- what’s the catch?
WINKLER:
The catch? I’m not sure there is one. Of course, you haven’t seen the apartment yet – it may not be to your taste.
DEREK:
We won’t be disappointed if it’s small – can’t be more cramped than the place we’re living in right now.
WINKLER:
Well, size is relative. If you’ll follow me.
DEREK:
Great.
SOUND:
WINKLER HEADS FOR THE ELEVATOR.
WINKLER:
(DEPARTING) The elevator operator seems to be at lunch – do you mind if I do the honors?
DEREK:
That- that’s fine. Anything you say.
SOUND:
THE ELEVATOR DOORS OPEN.
DEREK:
(IN A LOUD WHISPER) You hear that, Francine? “Elevator operator”.
FRANCINE:
I’m standing right here, how could I not hear that?
SOUND:
THRU TO THE INTERIOR OF THE ELEVATOR. SWING MUSIC PLAYS OVER THE SPEAKER. NOBODY SAYS ANYTHING FOR A LONG TIME. DEREK CLEARS HIS THROAT BEFORE FINALLY SPEAKING.
DEREK:
Long way up.
WINKLER:
Your apartment’s on the top floor.
DEREK:
Right. OK. Good. (AN AWKWARD PAUSE) Tall building.
WINKLER:
Yes.
FRANCINE:
Mr Winkler... I have to ask... what happened to the previous tenants?
WINKLER:
They were sincerely very sorry to leave, but they had no choice – pressing business.
DEREK:
Uh-huh. You could never get me to move out of this place. You’d have to kill me first.
WINKLER:
Mm.
SOUND:
ANOTHER “PING”.
WINKLER:
This is our floor.
SOUND:
THE ELEVATOR DOORS OPEN. THE THREE GET OUT.
WINKLER:
Just down here, follow me.
SOUND:
THE DOORS CLOSE, SHUTTING OFF THE MUSIC. THEY WALK A SHORT DISTANCE.
FRANCINE:
So what are the other tenants like?
WINKLER:
Quiet. Very quiet. And this is your apartment.
SOUND:
THEY STOP. WINKLER TAKES OUT A KEY.
FRANCINE:
If we like it.
DEREK:
We’ll like it.
SOUND:
WINKLER TURNS THE KEY IN THE LOCK AND OPENS THE DOOR.
FRANCINE:
I really think we need to discuss- Oh my Goodness!
WINKLER:
Please, go on in.
SOUND:
FRANCINE AND DEREK ENTER THE ROOM.
DEREK:
You’ve got to be kidding me!
FRANCINE:
This is huge!
WINKLER:
Does it meet with your approval?
DEREK:
You bet it does! Where do we sign? Do you need my first-born?
FRANCINE:
(A NOTE OF CAUTION) Derek-
WINKLER:
Why don’t I leave you to take a look around?
DEREK:
OK.
WINKLER:
Bathroom is to your left, bedroom on the right.
DEREK:
Oh, hey – do we need the key?
WINKLER:
Of course. Here.
SOUND:
HE GIVES DEREK THE KEY.
WINKLER:
I’ll be waiting downstairs.
FRANCINE:
Excuse me, Mr. Winkler? How can you afford to rent this place out for so little?
WINKLER:
I own the whole building. I can ask whatever I like. Goodbye.
DEREK:
Ah -- See ya.
SOUND:
THE DOOR SHUTS, LOUD AND SERIOUS.
DEREK:
(ECSTATIC) How about this? How-about-this?
FRANCINE:
It’s unbelievable.
DEREK:
Talk about landing on your feet! This place is off the charts!
FRANCINE:
/> I’m having a hard time believing this could be true – pinch me.
DEREK:
Francine - I love this place. This is... we deserve this!
FRANCINE:
I think I smell bleach. Do you smell bleach?
DEREK:
Why do you want something to be wrong with this place, Francine?
FRANCINE:
I don’t want anything to be wrong with it, seriously. I just... smell bleach.
DEREK:
Well, I don’t. Hey- you hear that?
FRANCINE:
Hear what?
DEREK:
Exactly. I never lived anywhere you couldn’t hear the traffic.
FRANCINE:
You’re right – it’s so quiet. Windows must be extra thick.
SOUND:
SHE TAPS THE WINDOWS – THEY SOUND REALLY THICK.
FRANCINE:
(A MILD EXCLAMATION OF SURPRISE) These windows are a little small for a place this size, don’t you think?
DEREK:
I prefer the view inside, anyway. You know what this place really smells of? Money.
FRANCINE:
Money we don’t have.
DEREK:
Not a problem – because the ad was not a misprint, just like I said.
Thank-you, and goodnight, don’t forget to tip your waitress and spay or neuter your pets.
FRANCINE:
So how does that work, Derek? How does someone practically give away a place this amazing?
DEREK:
He’s generous – a philanderer.
FRANCINE:
Philanthropist.
DEREK:
Didn’t you think he was a nice guy?
FRANCINE:
I don’t even know him, and neither do you. What if his wife’s strung up in our shower?
DEREK:
We cut her down and dispose of her carefully, and we don’t dump her in the hallway. Respect for the other tenants.
FRANCINE:
Seriously.
DEREK:
Fine, let’s take a look.
SOUND:
UNDER FRANCINE’S NEXT LINE, DEREK RATTLES THE DOORKNOB.
FRANCINE:
Gosh, Derek, I didn’t mean specifically to look for a dead body in our bathroom – it was just a for instance. What I mean to say is- -- what’s the matter?
DEREK:
Door’s stuck.
FRANCINE:
There’s always something.
DEREK:
(SARCASTIC) Yeah, a stuck door – that’s way worse than a corpse in the shower.
SOUND:
THE DOORKNOB COMES AWAY.
DEREK:
What the hell ??
FRANCINE:
What?
DEREK:
Damn thing came off in my hand.
FRANCINE:
You better hope there is a super.
DEREK:
What kind of shit is that?!
SOUND:
HE DROPS THE DOORKNOB.
FRANCINE:
Look on the bright side. Doorknob comes off in your hand from yanking too hard, that’s a five minute bit, right there.
DEREK:
How the hell do I get in there..? I don’t believe this! This is really weird
---
FRANCINE:
What?
DEREK:
I don’t think there’s even a room on the other side of this door – it’s like it’s --- just glued on.
FRANCINE:
What? That’s insane.
DEREK:
Check the bedroom door.
SOUND:
SHE TURNS THE DOORKNOB A FEW TIMES, BEFORE PULLING AT IT VIGOROUSLY...
FRANCINE:
(...STRAINING AS SHE DOES SO)
DEREK:
Nothing?
FRANCINE:
Nope.
DEREK:
Try looking through the gap – I bet it’s the same as this one.
FRANCINE:
(AN EXCLAMATION OF DISBELIEF) This is total bullshit!
We’re getting out of here, Derek! Let’s find that Winkler guy and ask him where the hell he gets off wasting our time!
DEREK:
Thankfully we I didn’t sign anything- Uh-oh.
FRANCINE:
What now?
DEREK:
(QUIETLY WEIRDED OUT) I don’t think we’re getting out of here, Francine.
FRANCINE:
What are you talking about?
DEREK:
There’s no handle on this side of the apartment door.
FRANCINE:
So use the key, stupid. Winkler gave you a key didn’t he?
DEREK:
No keyhole on this side, either.
FRANCINE:
Oh, come on!
SOUND:
SHE HAMMERS ON THE DOOR.
FRANCINE:
(SHOUTING) Hey, let us out! Hello? We’re stuck in here! Hello?
Somebody call the super! Can anyone hear me?
DEREK:
You know, I don’t think there’s even anyone living on this floor. When we got out of the elevator, it just felt kind of... empty. We might be the only two people up here.
FRANCINE:
Not for much longer – we’re breaking this door down. On three, right?
DEREK:
Right.
FRANCINE:
One... two... three-
SOUND:
DEREK SLAMS INTO THE DOOR – THE WOOD PANELLING CRUNCHES.
DEREK:
(HOWLS IN AGONY)
FRANCINE:
What the hell did you do that for?
DEREK:
You said go on three!
FRANCINE:
Nobody actually goes on three! You count to three and then you say “go”! Everyone knows that, Derek!
DEREK:
For shit’s sake - that hurts! I think I broke my arm!
FRANCINE:
Can you wiggle your fingers?
DEREK:
(STRAIN IN HIS VOICE) Yeah.
FRANCINE:
Then it’s not broken. OK, we go again. On three.
DEREK:
Forget it, Francine. It’s not a wooden door, that’s just panelling. See where I broke it?
SOUND:
DEREK PICKS AT SPLINTERS OF WOOD.
DEREK:
That’s metal underneath. I told you, we’re not getting out of here.
FRANCINE:
(CALLS OUT TO WHOEVER’S LISTENING) OK, you got us, congratulations! You got us good! Thanks for making us waste the whole frigging day! Assholes.
DEREK:
Francine, I’m pretty sure there’s no-one out there.
FRANCINE:
There’s someone out there – this is some sick stunt for TV, they’re watching us right now on hidden cameras.
DEREK:
I don’t see any cameras.
FRANCINE:
Well, they wouldn’t be hidden if you could.
DEREK:
Where do you hide cameras in an unfurnished apartment?
FRANCINE:
They make ’em, super small now. Any second, Howie Mandel or some other talk-show host is gonna walk through that door. (A PAUSE) Any second. (A LONGER PAUSE) Aaany second...
DEREK:
(AFTER A MOMENT OF SILENCE) We’re trapped in here.
SOUND:
A LOUD, GROANING, CREAKING, LIKE AN OLD STEAM ENGINE PULLING OUT.
DEREK:
What the hell was that?
MUSIC:
Fangoria theme comes up.
ANNOUNCER:
We’ll return to Fangoria’s Dreadtime Stories – after these few words.
NARRATOR:
It’s common enough to feel trapped from time to time – society puts us all under a lot of pressure. But as Derek and Francine are soon to discover, our modern paranoia is nothing... when compared with real pressure.
> FRANCINE:
It sounded like... machinery.
DEREK:
There’s no machines in here – no anything.
FRANCINE:
Yeah... but -- does the apartment look different to you?
DEREK:
How can it look different? Nobody’s come in here, and we can’t get out.
FRANCINE:
Why does somebody do something like this, if it’s not a practical joke?
DEREK:
Living Space Page 2
