| You Got Dale |
| Prologue: "Don't you mean 'You'VE got Dale?', I know you're muttering to yourself as you read this, shaking your head in disbelief at what appears to be an appalling oversight in grammar. Of course, I also know that you've just come here after visiting a porn-site, so unless you want me to distribute your full name, contact details, and a list of sites that you have visited in the last twenty four hours on the internet, I suggest you just shut-up right now and read the damn script. Besides all this, there was a movie released a few years ago starring Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan called "You Got Mail", a romance of some sort that I never got the chance to see. What I did gather from the advertisements blasted into my long term memory by Dolby Sound is that in the United States, those who subscribe to the internet service provider AOL's email accounts have access to a rare privilege that we do not. Upon receiving an email, a computerised voice tells them, in an inherently amusing way (although I suspect not to the AOL people, who are all Americans) "You Got Mail!" Or possibly "You've Got Mail", which might be what the movie is actually called. But I remember 'You'. I think. And no, I'm not going to check, because then I will have written the bulk of this paragraph for nothing. Damn illiterate yanks. Anyway, the two main characters in this are Dale, a guy from our school who is about 19, but still attending (well, officially attending) secondary education by virtue of the fact that he has taken time off at various stages to go to places like Thailand. He once trained to be a monk while over there, but was probably kicked out of the monastary for smoking the local crop. The other character is Nick, and...well, you all know Nick. Suffice to say that he has not led a life as eventful as Dale's, although he did once see a movie about Monks. Or a second rate documentary, in any case. OK, a Sixty Minutes special on immigrant monks jumping the queue. |
| Scene opens with DALE returning from an all night rave to his swingin' "share-house" at about 9 o'clock in the morning, still high on ecstacy. And you'd be too if you downed them like M & Ms. Two foxy LADIES in their early twenties are hanging from each of his arms. Ladies: Take us both! Dale: Gosh, I would, but when I left here last night I had three chicks passed out on the floor. I think I promised them a Day of Dale for only $700 a head. Ladies: We'll pay! Dale: I'm a part-time male prostitute, not a SLUT!!! Ladies: Sorry! Maybe we'll see you tomorrow night? Dale: Don't count on it. Ladies: OK! (Dale walks into the apartment) Girls on floor (getting up): Hey Dale! Are you really going to give us that Day of Dale for only $700 a head? Dale: No! I was just lying to get those other chicks out. Now you get out of here yourself! (The Girls stumble hung-over out the door.) Dale (to himself): Enough is enough I always say, and I've had plenty. Now that all that's out of the way, I can indulge in my secret shame: Trying to beat my personal best in computerised solitaire. (he sits at the computer) Dale: Now, let's see. Red 5 on....black 6! It's a match made in heaven! (he leans over and changes the TV station from one displaying "Top of the Pops" to the news. Sammy Lucas is presenting the weather.) Sammy: Tommorow is going to be cloudy, with chances of showers. I want you baby! Tune in tommorow so we can be together! Dale: Something strikes me as a contrast between her presentation and Tim Bailey's. Sammy: This just in: A cosmic weather phenomenon from outer space known as a "Photon Bombardment" is occuring in the skies of Sydney. All residents are advised to remain indoors, or risk incurring adverse effects as a result of the radiation. Dale: Dreadful. I hope it doesn't affect electronics. (At this point, probably because Dale has just jinxed himself, tendrils of electricity emerge from his computer screen, and, after pausing for a brief perve on Sammy, ensnare him, and then return into the computer, apparently leaving him unconscious. (NICK'S house. He is also sitting in front of his computer. He, however, is not high. NICK is lamenting elements of the comedy of errors that constitutes his love life. Or, as it were, lack therof) Nick: No, no, no love life? Why should a dog, a horse, a rat have a love life, And thou no girl at all? Thou'lt come no more, Never, never, never, never, never. Oh man, I'll never get a date! (suddenly, originating from Nick's speaker, a voice speaks in the same tones as the AOL synthesised voice.) Computer (cheerfully): You got Dale! (Dale appears on Nicks computer screen) Nick: Dale? Can YOU help me get a date? Dale: Ahh!!!!! What the hell just happenned? Why am I stuck inside your computer? Let me out!!! Nick: Errr...I don't know. And in answer to your request, sure, if you help me get a date. Dale: Well, OK. It's a deal. Who do you want to ask out anyway? Nick: She works at K-Mart... (Dale rolls his eyes) Nick (enthusiastically): Her name's Cordelia. Dale: Cordelia? I know her. She's out of your league, buddy. Nick: Please Dale! You've gotta help me! I think I'm in love! Dale: Man, how much pornography do you have saved on this computer? Nick: Don't look in there! Dale: Sorry. Well, I'll try my best. Use the voice synthesiser function to change my voice to yours, and put the speaker to the phone. (Nick changes the voice, and puts the phone near the speaker) Dale (with Nick's voice): Let me get into character: I'm a stupid geek! Nick: Shutup! (he dials the number) Cordelia: Hello? Dale (with Nick's voice): Hey, this is Nick, from work. Cordelia: Are you the guy who the police found loitering in the bushes outside my house last night? Dale: Errr...no, that must have been another Nick. Cordelia, I have something to tell you. Cordelia: What, you perverted freaky weirdo? Dale: I don't want to go out with you. Cordelia: What? Dale: I just really don't want to go out with you. I don't find you very attractive at all. I do, however, want to go out with your hideously deformed best-friend. Cordelia: Fiona? Why?!!!! Dale: Because I just do. Goodbye. (he hangs up the phone through the modem) Nick: What did that achieve? Dale: Just wait. (The phone rings. Nick answers and puts the phone to the speaker) Cordelia: Nick! I want you to go out with me! Dale: Sure babe. Pick you up at seven. (he hangs up) Nick: Wow! I'd tried everything! Flowers, chocolate, jewelery! You did it in one go! Dale: Girls are a bit like flowers. When you get a lot all the time, they become very easy to arrange. Nick: But how did you know she had an ugly best friend? Dale: I didn't, I just took the chance. Funnily enough, beautiful girls usually do. Nick: So what advantages does this method have over, say, stalking them? Dale: Well, since the only "purpose" of her friend is to make her feel good about herself (whether she really knows that herself or not), by showing apparently exclusive affection towards this usually ravaged creature, and indifference towards the real object of your desire, you challenge the natural order of things as she understands it; in short, you're playing off her superiority complex. She inevitably must attempt to preserve that order. Nick: So you'd say that this method is...better or worse than stalking her? (Half past six that night. NICK is getting ready for his date - greasy hair, formal contact lenses, et cetera. He is having a last minute prep session with DALE.) Dale: So where are you taking her? Nick: I thought I'd go the full out. Dale: Expensive restaurant on the first date? Well, you know the chick better than me. Uptown girl then? Nick: Restaurant? I'm taking her to the La Premiere at Fox. Dale: The The First? Nick: Huh? Dale: Nothing. Remember, don't stuff this up. If there's one thing I know that's true in life, first impressions last. Nick: Relax. I just had a problem with getting the date. Once I'm on it, I'm Mr. Smooth. Dale: Yeah, well, just remember what I said. Nick: Hey! It's not like I'm going to set fire to the girl. In fact, I bet I'll have her in bed by the end of the week. Dale: Perhaps one at the Prince of Wales.... Nick: Well, some classy hotel like that. (Dale crosses himself) (Cut to NICK sitting in a movie theatre. He is seated next to CORDELIA, who looks impatient. NICK is damp with perspiration, and sick with anxiety. They are about to see Rambo IV - Nick's choice) Nick (thinking): Oh man. I've never been so scared in my life. What's she thinking? Does she hate me? Cordelia (also an inward monologue): My God, he hasn't even looked me in the eyes yet, and his coversation is either laconic or blathering. At least he's paid for everything. Hmmm....should I buy that skirt? I mean, when I lay-buyed it, I wasn't really thinking properly. But on the other hand, I haven't bought anything for a week...maybe I should get that jacket from Kookai....decisions, decisions. I wish I wasn't so capricious.... Nick (suddenly): WHY DON'T I GET SOME WINE!!! Cordelia: Umm...yeah, sure, why not? Nick: Great, great, great, I'll be back in a sec! (Nick scrambles off, knocking over the popcorn as he does.) Cordelia (to herself): Argh! This is a $350 dress! I'm glad none of that landed on me, I would have died if I'd got a grease stain on this. I wonder how much all this is costing him? Nick (to himself, walking back clutching two glasses of shiraz in his sweat and popcorn-grease-ridden hands): I've practically emptied my bank account. I'm broke! The La Premiere, I had to say. This had better yield results. (he arrives back at the seats) Nick: Hey, I hope you like Red Wine, because... (Well, he slips of course, spilling not one but two glasses of red wine on his date and her dress - reduced from $500. But besides the original price of the item of apparel, you knew all of this from the moment he got the date) Cordelia (bereft of speech): Gah...gah.... Nick (frantically): Oh, oh, oh, oh, I am SO sorry, hey, the movie's starting! Ah, err, I'LL JUST GET SOME FOOD!!!!! Cordelia: ....gah.....gah..... (Nick hurls himself at the vending place of the comestibles) Nick: Gas-tron! Guy at counter: Yes, you clumsy nit-wit? Nick: What's the most expensive thing on your menu?!!!!! Guy at counter: That would be the fromage-de-la-flam.....errr, well, in layman's terms, it's basically absurdly expensive molten cheese, kind of like fondue, but more French and pricey. Also, it is on fire. Nick: I'll take it!!!! (hands over his bank card) Guy at counter: Excellent choice sir. (to self) I hope for his sake he has two kidneys.(He applies a zippo lighter to a plate of yellowish sludge) It's like burning money! (Nick seizes the plate like a drowning man seizes a life preserver, and runs back to Cordelia) Nick: Here, I bought you a from-marge-de... (he trips, causing the dish to sail through the air, it's eventual destination all over Cordelia's dress, setting it ablaze. How ironic.) Haim: No smoking! Cordelia (about to be seriously burnt): HOLY... (Nick attempts to extinguish the flames, but only succeeds in tearing away what is left of the flaming garment.) Cordelia: ....gah....gah..... Nick: .....it's....a...bit....like.....fondue. (he takes a spoonful of what is left in the bowl) Nick: ARGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MY TONGUE!!!!!! IB BRRRRRNSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!! (And at this point, we had better cut to the next scene.) (NICK is discussing the date with DALE back at home) Nick: ....so the police thought that I was trying to kill her, she was in shock and so didn't say anything, and my tongue was so swollen that I couldn't speak either. Not that I think it would have helped much if I could have. So I was locked in a cell at the station until my tongue healed and I could make a few phone calls. And speak in court. I have to pay for the 'considerable' repairs at the cinema, by the way. Dale: On top of your community service and fine for disturbing the peace, I read about in on the Herald website. Front page headline, "Date from hell turns arsonist". Nick: Awww geez. That's kind of harsh. Dale: How would you have put it? Nick (quickly): Dale, I have a favour to ask of you. Dale: You think I can call her and set this straight? Are you out of your mind? Nick: Dale, you don't understand, I'm in LOVE! Dale: That's not all you're in, buddy. Nick: Please! Dale: If that was your first date, I'd hate to see how many innocent lives are going to be lost at your wedding. Nick: If you don't help me, I'll....I'll....I'll kill myself! Dale: If you try to kill yourself, I'll delete all your "Counter-Strike" related files.... Nick: But I need those to play in my clan! Dale: Your what? Nick: Nothing. Well, it's like, you, err...you go on the internet and you kill other people in this game, right? Except you have this group of people who play with you, and they....well, it's really fun! Dale: No it is not, you are a complete loser. Society is doubtless to blame, although I don't know which one. Perhaps the Dead Social Life's Society. Nick: I know. Wait, I don't get it. (Pause) Nick: Well, if you don't help me, I won't help YOU get out of the computer! Dale: Fine then. Look, I'm going to tell you something that you can't tell anyone at your work. Your girlfriend works at K-Mart during the day, right? Well, she also has a....night job. Nick: I KNEW it! She does night shift at target! Dale: No, that's not quite what I meant. Nick: ....because she always leaves work wearing this different uniform, it's like a mini skirt and some fish-net stockings, and I'm always, like, Hey! Where are YOU going? and she's always, like, I'm going to Kings Cross, and I'm like Where, Target? and she's like, No not Target, but I'm like, there's soooooo no way that you're not working! Dale: Well, yes, in a sense, she is working, but not at K-Mart. Nick, Cordelia is a working girl. Nick: A what? Dale: A prostitute. Nick: Huh? Dale: Well, she uhhh, men pay her to....perform....acts...with her. Nick: So she's in the theatre? Dale: ....the point is Nick, that if you have enough money, you can pay Cordelia to....go out with you. Nick: Really? Why didn't I just do that in the first place? Awww, but now I have no money left. Dale: Well I suppose you'll just have to acknowledge that it wasn't meant to be, and... Nick: How can I get money? Dale: Well, assuming your boss hasn't been reading the papers... Nick: No, I need it fast! What do you do as a job? Dale: Ah, one needs certain.....qualifications to suceed in my line of work. I'm afraid there's only one recourse for you now, although it does entail some definite sacrifices... Nick: DALE! Please! Cordelia is all that's important to me, and all that will ever be important! She consumes my very being! I live only to feel her sweet breath on the back of my neck in the morning after a night of passionate..... Dale: Please, spare me the details. You're seriously that enamoured with her? Nick: Well, I wouldn't say literally, but yeah, when she smiles at me I feel like my skin couldn't be penetrated by a thirty millimetre shell! Dale: No, not armoured, it means...wait, she's smiled at you? Nick: Well, I think once she might have...ahh, well, not exactly smiled, but definitely.... Dale: Nick, I'm going to go onto the internet and find an organ dealer who would want one of your kidneys. You go change into some old clothes. Nick: Awwww..... (Later that night, in an alleyway on George St. NICK is looking very nervous, every now and again clutching his hands to his abdomen. He is singing under his breath the original version of "Love Lifts Us Up Where We Belong". LARRY enters, wearing a purple suit and a purple hat with a large white feather in its band. It is clear, though, that his agenda is not pimping tonight. He is holding a few Tupperware (Trademark) containers. Larry: Nick, baby, how are ya? Nick: Ummm, good, Mr., ah....haven't I seen you at school? Larry: You ain't seen nothin', capisce? Nick: Ahhh, ummm, okay. Larry: Now, word on the street is, you've got a primo kidney for sale. Nick: Ahh, umm, that's right. Larry: Now, assuming that it is as you say, that is, quality shit, I could get you around, let's say, fifty dollars for this kidney of yours. Nick: Ahh, well, ahh, Dale says that I need about $600 for my...ah...that's how much I need. Larry: Ooh, I'd say that you're going to have to sell ALL of your non essential organs to get that kind of cash. And maybe some of the other ones too. Nick: Awww.... Larry (taking out a scalpel): Now firstly, my socially maladjusted celibate, it is procedure, as it were, to test the selection before the vivisection. Nick: Vivisection? TEST? Larry: Try before you buy, capisce? (Nick starts singing David Bowie's "Heroes" through gritted teeth.) (Some time later. Larry and Nick are sitting in a McDonalds. Nick is eating some rancid product sold by the establishment, probably a quadruple cheeseburger) Larry: Nick, baby, that was some quality shit, pure. Where do you get this stuff? Nick: It comes naturally..... Larry: Haha, Nick, funny in more ways than one, huh? Quality merchandise, though, seriously baby. That liver looked like it had never been used. Nick (to himself): Ohh, the heart wants what the heart wants. Larry: Yeah, shame we had to take so much of it out, huh? Nick: Who buys organs anyway? Larry: Nick, eat your heart out. Huh, you get it? Ah, forgedaboudit. Nick (noticing part of his left ventricle in his "patty", and then looking despairingly at the statue of Ronald McDonald perched on the bench in the store): Father, why have you forsaken me?!! (Back at home, a few days later. NICK is talking to DALE) Nick: I gave her the money. She's going to be around here at eight. Dale, I have to say, it's been a tough road getting here, but I really feel as though its been your help that's got me to where I am. Dale: Err...any time Nick. Nick: I really think that we should stay in contact after I get you out of the computer. Dale: Sure. But, ah, I'll call you, OK? Nick: Great! Now Dale, its taken me a few weeks to put together this research, but apparently, several other case have been documented, and the remedy to the condition is simple, but relies heavily on.... Dale: Nick, please just tell me. Nick: Right. Well, the first thing I found was that all I have to do is reset the computer, right? Except I can only do it during a mysterious weather phenomenon known as a "photon bombardment". So I've spent quite some time researching it, but... Dale (eyes widening): Nick, photons are just light particles! There is always light shining from either the sun, or a streetlight on your house! Nick: Oh. Oh, OK. But the other day on the news..... Dale: The news? The news? Channel TEN news! Nick: There's other news? Dale: Just reset the damn computer! Nick: OK! (He does so. The computer comes back on, and Dale has disappeared from the desktop) (8:30. Nick is waiting.) Nick: Come on...where are you Cordelia? Ohh, I wish I had Dale here to tell me what to do! (Meanwhile, back at Dale's pad) Dale (sitting up, and brushing the dust off himself): What a trip. (The phone rings. Dale screens.) Answering Machine Message: SPEAK! Cordelia (through the machine): Hey Dale, some loser gave me six hundred dollars, thinking I was going to come to his place. I finally have $1500! Day of Dale here I come! Call me! Dale: Hmm. How ironic. Epilogue: There are several morals to this story. To name a few of them: 1. Never trust anyone whom you've previously set on fire. 2. Don't sit too close to your computer monitor. 3. Never change the channel if Top of the Pops is on. And probably most importantly: 4. Never be Nick. I was subsequently informed that the title of the film is actually "You've Got Mail". |