Script Exerpts
Excerpt of the Month:
Turf War
This is a scene that takes place after 'odd gnome out' Shamus gets trapped by lawn flamingos (led by Floyd) across the road from the yard he belongs in. And because of it, prim proper neighbor Petunia finally meets slovenly sad sack neighbor Owen.
THANKS goes out to HILARY WALKER for her flamingo photograph. You can check out her work at redbubble.com
In the main garden, Mordecai gazes mortified across the road. Lined up on either side of him is the rest of the gnome community, all staring with open mouths at
-SHAMUS-
EXT. OWEN’S PLACE
The flamingos sleep. Shamus twists and bends to pull his pinned trousers free, ends up mooning the gnomes across the road with smiley face boxers.
Various gnomes gasp. Mothers shield the eyes of laughing pointing children.
Shamus blushes, readjusts his trousers, sits back down humiliated.
A CAR approaches.
The flamingos bobble.
The car closes in.
The flamingos teeter.
The car zooms up. An arm hangs out the window, cocked and loaded with a baseball. The rider whips that ball.
Shamus sees the incoming pitch. He stretches for it, minding his pants. It’s a catch to make a short stop proud. Shamus grins until--
SCREECH!
The car skids to a stop.
The flamingos startle awake. They look at the stopped car.
A LONG HAIRED TEEN pokes his head out the passenger window, his eyes huge.
LONG HAIRED TEEN
Did you see that?
DRIVER (O.S.)
Dude! Absolute fail!
LONG HAIRED TEEN
No, man. The little gnome dude. He-
The long haired teen scrutinizes those lawn ornaments. The flamingos stare, stone silent. Shamus sits like a well sculpted rock, the baseball on the ground beside him not far from the baseball pitched on the previous day.
The driver’s hand pokes out of the window and tousles the teens hair.
DRIVER (O.S.)
Weak arm, little bro. Team’s never
going to let you pitch with a throw
like that.
LONG HAIRED TEEN
No, he... It-... It’s my lucky
ball.
DRIVER (O.S.)
Then go get it! Quick before someone sees you.
The long haired teen steps out of the car.
FLOYD
Peck his eyes out! You hear me? Peck peck peck-
EXT. PETUNIA’S PLACE
The front door opens. Petunia steps out, hums a saccharine tune, a stack of mail in her hand. She stops short when she sees the long haired teen, who stops short when he sees her.
The teen panics. He dives back for the car, slams the door behind him. The driver speeds away.
Petunia shrugs. She heads for her mailbox. She stuffs the letters inside and flips up the flag.
She spots the display of flamingos and gnome across the road, and squints at it in uncertainty. She cleans her glasses, squints through them again.
LATER
At the garden. Mordecai and the others perfectly still in their same line. Petunia kneels in front of them and paws them as she counts.
PETUNIA
One, two, three, four, five...
LATER
Still counting...
PETUNIA (CONT’D)
...thirty seven thirty eight,
thirty nine...
LATER
Still counting...
PETUNIA (CONT’D)
...sixty! Sixty one, sixty two...
LATER
Still counting...
PETUNIA (CONT’D)
...ninety eight, ninety nine...
She looks around. Fingers fumble through roots, stems and dirt to come up empty.
PETUNIA (CONT’D)
Ninety nine. Hmph!
EXT. OWEN’S PLACE
Petunia’s hand raps against the door. Owen pulls it open. He stares through bleary eyes. Not a hello. Nothing.
PETUNIA
You have my gnome.
Still nothing. Petunia points to the figurines.
PETUNIA (CONT’D)
My gnome. I collect them. I have a
hundred, and there’s only ninety
nine. I checked.
Owen stares at the gnome among his flamingos, oblivious. He
shrugs.
OWEN
It’s yours? Take it.
He tries to close the door, but Petunia won’t have it.
PETUNIA
Well, Mr. Grunion! How did he get
there?
OWEN
Maybe the boyds[birds] did it.
Petunia huffs as Owen tries to close the door again.
PETUNIA
Mr. Grunion! Mr. Grunion, did you
take my gnome?
He continues to stare, perplexed by her insistence.
OWEN
Look here, Mrs.-
PETUNIA
Miss.
OWEN
Miss. Miss...
PETUNIA
Petunia. I’m your neighbor across
the street.
She smiles and offers her hand. He ignores it.
OWEN
Miss Petunia-
PETUNIA
Whipple. Miss Whipple. Petunia
Whipple.
OWEN
Miss Whipple? I have a very busy
day. So you can take your gnome,
and-
PETUNIA
And what?
A snarl quivers in Owen’s upper lip. He gets it under
control.
OWEN
A very busy day, ma’am. Please,
take your gnome.
PETUNIA
It’s nice to finally-
The door shuts.
PETUNIA (CONT’D)
-meet. Oh.
Disappointment evolves into being miffed. Petunia grumbles.
She heads toward the road, oblivious to Owen watching her
from between the slats of closed blinds.
PETUNIA (CONT’D)
What a rude man! Absolutely rude!
She scoops Shamus up and continues her rant.
PETUNIA (CONT’D)
Every winter he migrates down here
without so much as a “hello.” Not
so much as a “nice to meet you,
Miss Whipple. Can I borrow a cup of
sugar?”
She stops beside her mailbox and notices that single, vibrant
flower for the first time.
PETUNIA (CONT’D)
Will you look at that. I’d almost
given up hope.
Copyright. Diane M. Johnson. All rights reserved.
