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EXT. THE DESERT - DAY
We open in the desert with unusually shaped rocks
. A late night talk show, on a radio, is discussing the secrecy over Area 51. Somebody is climbing a chain link fence. We don't see his pursuers but it's obvious this shadow of a man is stressed and anxious to get away from something
. The radio show fades in and out of the scene (O.C.) and vaguely suggests the action by the power of suggestion as Bier has fallen asleep behind his desk.
INT. BIERS CUBICLE - DAY
One of the clerks lowers the volume on the radio. Another clerk unscrews the cap to a flask filled with techila. Yet another clerk asks if he can smoke. Everybody is glad about the together time they spend during these informal breaks when business is slow. Someone brings up a picture from the magazine of a crazy man-tiger
who altered his face to look like a feline.
Co-workers have gathered near the cubicles to hang out
and notice that he's begun to snore and mumble and fart. Some gibberish is barely audible but not incorehent. As the nearest co-workers casually stretches as if restless, he moves down wind from Bier zoning out the chitter chatter from the other and attempt to make out what Bier's mumbling.
Return-path chcmd at zine dot com. Envelope-to class ads at zine dot com. Delivery-date Monday fourteen. Received from smtp2 dot zine dot com. IP address 184.108.40.206.
Shhh, shhh, shh. I think he's muttering computer jargon.
Let him sleep.
Bier suddenly jumps awake with a jolt at mid snore.
Was I snoring?
Among other things.
Why don't you get a cup of coffee? What's your grandma's name?
Why do you keep asking me that?
A fly lands on his nose. He shakes his head like a dog.
But what does it matter? She's dead already.
As Pete sporadically curses under his breath at the fly, one of the other employees peeps their head over the cubicle.
You shouldn't forget your grandmother.
Pete's eyes wander in search for the pesky fly.
Smart ass. I'm just trying to help you remember.
I know what her name is.
The conversation between others within the group dies down as their attention begins to focus on Pete and Donna.
SFX: PHONE RINGS
Donna tilts her head as if to jar her brain.
Oh hey, how's it going? Good god, two and... one half more hours. It's not even Friday either.
Yeah, great. See ya.
Donna puts on a grin waiting for Pete to finish his sentence, possibly with the name of his grandma which would complete her smile. There is a pause as PETE has no intention of answering her question.
Who was that on the phone?
Aaron's back with my lunch. There's a fly in here that's been harrassing me all morning. Who let it in? Can you take it with you?
Yeah. Here fly. Get ready, okay, we're leaving in five minutes. There. Hey, are you going to eat here at your desk?
I have a lot of stuff to do.
Like what? You've been on the Internet all day. If Aaron's coming here with your lunch, that fly's never gonna follow me anywhere no matter how sweet I talk to it.
Then hurry up and go. I'll meet you in the breakroom after I eat.
Donna scampers away, swaying her hips in catwalk fashion and pays one last glance over her shoulder at his last remark.
Here pesky fly. Tch tch tch.
Pete is not unaffected, yet he absorbs every nuance of Donna's dance. Pete sees his boss. Somebody is with her.
PA SYSTEM (FILTERED)
Can I please bother one of you associates for a hand?
Everyone in the small clique begins clapping. Pete takes a swipe at the fly which didn't follow Donna. He shakes his clutched fist by his ear as if checking to see if he caught it.
God damn mother fucker.
Pete gets up to go to the reception desk.
It's too quiet. If my radio had been playing, you wouldn't have heard me. How you can stand it, I'll never know.
In the background, somebody feebly holds up his MP3 player and ear buds in display. Pete's boss slowly makes her way closer to the office with Selma. Selma is a short, voluptuous business type who is being oriented on her first day at work. The small clique scatters.