Her Bag

HER BAG

INT. TSA SECURITY CHECK-IN LINE - LATE MORNING

JERRY is flustered, rushing to the check-in line as he listens to flight announcements overhead. He removes his shoes, chucks them in a plastic tray with his keys on the inspection conveyor, and lays his laptop bag open along with a floral tapestry bag along side the tray.

JERRY steps through the metal detector, arms up, while watching his tray and laptop bag move into the x-ray and out the other side.

The floral bag does not emerge. JERRY stands at the exit end of the x-ray, waiting for TSA WORKER-1 to finish x-raying the bag.

TSA WORKER-1 looks up from the x-ray monitor at JERRY, then flags TSA WORKER-2 to look at the monitor.

PASSENGERS are restless and glare at the TSA WORKERS and JERRY.

TSA WORKER-2 whispers to TSA WORKER-1 though they cannot be heard. TSA WORKER-2 takes the floral bag as it emerges from the scanner.

TSA WORKER-2 carries the floral bag to the end of the line where an empty table waits. TSA WORKER-3 approaches; they appear to be more senior. TSA WORKER-2 whispers in TSA WORKER-3’s ear as they both eye JERRY up and down.

	TSA WORKER-2 Sir, can you tell me about the contents of this bag? The name on the bag doesn’t appear to match the name on the laptop bag. Did anyone give you this bag to carry?
	JERRY Yes, I was supposed to carry this bag for someone.

All the TSA WORKERS within hearing look up at JERRY. The security line comes to a halt as TSA WORKER-4 and TSA WORKER-5 now approach JERRY from behind while gesturing to passengers in the line to halt.

	TSA WORKER-2 Do you have the name of the person for whom you are carrying this bag?
	JERRY Yes, my girlfriend. Her name is Elyse Johnson. She asked me to bring it with me on my trip.
	TSA WORKER-2 Sir, the name on this tag is not Elyse Johnson. To whom does this bag belong, sir?
	JERRY What? Hang on, I can call her—   (pulls out phone and presses display)
	TSA WORKER-3 (gestures to stop) I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, sir. Please give me your cellphone.
	JERRY Huh? I’m just calling my girlfriend.
	TSA WORKER-2 Sir, please do as you’re asked.

JERRY hands his phone over to TSA WORKER-3, who checks the phone to see if the number on the display matches the name JERRY offered.

	TSA WORKER-2 Can you tell us anything about the contents of this bag, sir?
	JERRY It’s my girlfriend’s bag. She left ahead of me on a business side trip. I’m supposed to meet her on vacation and bring this bag with me. It’s got personal effects she didn’t want to pack for her business trip. It might be a bag she borrowed from her mother or a girlfriend. I don’t know.
	TSA WORKER-2 There’s a suspicious object in this bag. We need to unload the bag and inspect the contents.
	JERRY (skeptically) O-kay—

TSA WORKER-2 unloads the bag slowly, one object at a time —  books, additional lingerie and swimsuits in a clear plastic bag, small bottles of sunscreen, a makeup bag, phone charger, batteries.

TSA WORKER-2 looks at TSA WORKER-3, shaking their head negatively. TSA WORKER-3 nods. TSA WORKER-2 begins to palpate the bag, feeling for something at the bottom of the bag not in plain sight.

TSA WORKER-2 takes the bag back to the scanner and asks TSA WORKER-1 to run it through again. They peer carefully at the display, pointing to something.

TSA WORKER-2 brings the bag back from the scanner and opens the bag more fully.

	TSA WORKER-2 Sir, there appears to be something inside a hidden pocket in this bag. We’re going to have to open this. Are you sure you can’t tell us something about it?
	JERRY (more puzzled) Um, no, I have no idea what she packed, let alone that there was a hidden pocket.

JERRY appears worried, running his hand through his hair. TSA WORKER-4 and TSA WORKER-5 are more alert now, watching JERRY carefully.

TSA WORKER-2 turns bag upside down, then rights the bag when nothing comes out. TSA WORKER-2 palpates the bag’s interior again, then removes the bottom liner to reveal a Velcro-sealed pocket.

TSA WORKER-2 open the Velcro closure with a long ripping sound, drawing the attention of all persons in the security area. TSA WORKER-2 reaches into the pocket and pulls out another pack of batteries, a detachable power charger, a small bottle of personal lubricant, and a massive, flesh-colored, vibrator-dildo.

JERRY’s eyes nearly bug out of his head, his jaw drops open, slack with shock as TSA WORKERS and passengers alike gasp.

TSA WORKER-3 raises an eyebrow, then holds out arms in calming gesture.

TSA WORKER-3 (loudly) It’s a dick, people, not a bomb. Move along.

JERRY hangs head in shame.

TSA WORKER-2 Um, sorry, man. Must be some vacation your girl has planned, eh?

JERRY just shakes his head as TSA WORKER-2 stows dildo and batteries back in the bag.

FADE OUT.

__________

© Copyright 2013—All rights reserved.

By Femme Malheureuse

Zuklear

ZUKLEAR

INT. BEDROOM - DAY

LANI lies swaddled under blankets in her darkened room. Clock radio reads Weds Aug 28 11:00 AM. ALAN enters room, stopping to take note of his wife’s condition.

ALAN

Are you alright?

LANI

(muffled)

Huh? (beat) What do you think?

ALAN

You’re all bundled up and it’s August. It’s warm in here and it’s even hotter outside. You’ve been like this for days.

LANI

(muffled)

Yeah, well, that happens when people get the flu during summer. I’ve got a fever and I feel chilled because of it.

ALAN

Do you need anything? Are you sure you shouldn’t see the doctor?

LANI

No, I’m drinking fluids, getting rest, and I’m not paying two hundred bucks to sit in a waiting room filled with sick people for two hours just so Doc can tell me my symptoms suggest I’ve got the flu, drink fluids, and rest.

ALAN

Okay, then. I’ll just get you some fresh water. Anything else?

LANI

Can you go to Shelley’s and pick the vegetables in her garden? She left Sunday and won’t be back until Tuesday.

ALAN

Can’t her boyfriend pick the garden? I’ve got a meeting at the office, a lunch meeting, and then a golf match.

LANI

(moans) Jay got a small contract job and won’t be around during the day. Don’t worry about it. We’ll have to hope it doesn’t rain or the vegetables will go nuts.

ALAN

Um, it’s sprinkling now. It’s supposed to pour tonight.

LANI

Thanks. I feel so much better knowing that. (sighs)

ALAN

Go back to sleep. It’ll be fine. I’ll see you tonight.

FADE OUT.

INT. HOME OFFICE - EARLY EVENING

LANI is seated at her desk, beneath a calendar displaying the day’s date, Tues September 3. She’s still sniffling a bit and wearing a sweater. LANI picks up the phone on her desk when it rings.

Bake Sale

BAKE SALE

INT. KITCHEN AREA, GREAT ROOM - EARLY EVENING

Single, late twenty-something BETH sits on a stool at the bar in her plush modern apartment as she talks on the phone.

BETH

Sure, sweetie, I can make some cookies for your bake sale. Just because your mom is away on business doesn’t mean you can’t contribute some cookies to the fundraiser.

A large cat jumps up and plops down onto the stool next to her. BETH pets the cat.

BETH

Six dozen, wrapped in individual dozens? No problem, I’ll drop them off in the morning at your school. In the front hall? Sure. (beat) Your auntie loves you too, sweetie. You’re my favorite niece.

(beat) Yes, my only niece. You’re getting awfully smart. Bye for now, Lizzie. (hangs phone on wall)

BETH strides around the bar to the refrigerator and takes out two tubes of cookie dough before turning on the oven and getting out a knife and several cookie sheet pans.

After reading the instructions, BETH proceeds to open a tube of dough and prepare two pans with half of the first tube of dough.

The phone rings as she puts the pans in the oven. BETH answers the phone.

BETH

Hello? Oh, hey. No, I’m just baking some cookies for my niece’s bake sale at school. My sister’s on a business trip.

(beat) Oh hell no, I don’t make the dough, I hate cooking. I’m total fail at it. They didn’t teach that in business school, you know?

(beat) Yeah, it’s not difficult to fake-bake, I’m just using some store-bought dough in tubes. The tough part is PMS-ing. I could eat an entire tube right now before I even bake them. (laughs)

BETH breaks off a big chunk of dough and proceeds to nibble on it while on it while she listens to her caller.

Time Travelnaut Number One

TIME TRAVELNAUT NUMBER ONE

INT. PRIVATE HOME LABORATORY

MR. JOHNSON, a thirty-something year-old scientist, sits on a stool at a lab bench, multiple monitors and a computer before him while above and around him the large room is filled with molecular models and blueprints of equipment.

MRS. JOHNSON, his thirty-something year-old wife, sits on a stool next to him, peering at some calculations and graphic models on the displays as he punches away at his keyboard.

MR. JOHNSON

So you see, there’s no good reason based on these peer-reviewed calculations why women can’t time travel. It’s just gender-biased nonsense in science fiction that prevents us from seeing both women and men attempt to leap ahead to the future.

MRS. JOHNSON

Well, I’m game if you’re game. We don’t have kids, the house is paid off, my will is made out. I’ll give it a shot and be the first female human guinea pig, so to speak. Send me to the future!

MR. JOHNSON

I’m concerned, of course. There’s no absolute guarantee this is safe. But I’m okay with this if you’re okay. Let’s give it a whirl. The equipment is ready whenever you are, dear.

The pair jump off their stools and cross the lab, approaching a large, stainless steel box about the same size as a commercial freezer, fitted with many electronic displays, buttons, lights, wires, tubes, and switches.

MRS. JOHNSON slips on a nondescript jacket with a small flower-like brooch on the lapel. MR. JOHNSON adjusts the lapel and then turns on a small video display next to the box. The brooch appears to be a spy camera, currently showing MR. JOHNSON as he continues to fuss with the brooch before closing the top button of his wife’s jacket.

MR. JOHNSON turns on video cameras inside and outside the box. More displays outside the box show both the empty interior of the box and the couple outside the box.

MRS. JOHNSON waves to the small exterior camera pointed in her direction, before reaching out for her husband to give him a hug and a brief kiss.

Hot Enough

HOT ENOUGH

EXT. LOCAL MUNICIPAL PARK

MR. FREEZE and BATMAN sit an arm’s length apart at one end of a very long park bench in summer afternoon sun. The once-green grass around them has dried down and yellowed. The park is quiet except for the sound of children playing in a fountain and a dog barking in the distance.

MR. FREEZE

(as if to himself)

I don’t remember it ever being so hot that I didn’t feel like committing mayhem.

BATMAN

(beat) I don’t remember it ever being so hot that I couldn’t be bothered about your troublemaking.

(beat) I’m so uncomfortable I can’t move.

They sit motionless, a warm breeze playing with BATMAN’s cape as it hangs over the bench. MR. FREEZE pulls a handkerchief out of his pants’ pocket and blots his forehead, his brow knotted in frustration.

MR. FREEZE

Damn it. It’s so fucking hot today, my makeup is melting.

BATMAN

(beat) Tell me about it. My nuts are deep-frying in this stupid Spanx suit.

BATMAN wiggles his right leg as if to ease his groin. The two men continue their vigil.