SCRIPTS
INT. GROCERY STORE—DAY

The screen flashes from black to blinding white.  We hear elevator music, the insect-like buzz
of electrical lights, and the din of tired shoppers.  The camera slowly reveals that the blinding
white is a set of perfectly bleached teeth surrounded by lips coated thick with burgundy-pink.  
Sitting mockingly on the right-side of the lower lip is a small lump, layered with several coats of
burgundy-pink.  It is a cold-sore.  A carefully manicured hand comes into frame and gently
pokes the spot.  The camera moves out and it is reveled that we have been looking into a
compact mirror, held by the owner of the previous hand.  A face held youthful with BOTOX is
squinting and fussing in the mirror.  She is young no more, but not yet old; her beautifully
caked on makeup presents a woman still trying to earn her keep as a model, but the fear in her
color-contacts mirrors her desperation to cling to the past.  Pamela Anderson locks fall down
past her surgically-enhanced chest, which display the words “Jack Daniels” stretched across
her tied-up tight top.  We hear a VOICE.

                                                                MAN
                                        Hey, what’ve you got for me?

                                                                GIRL
                                        Oh.  Hi.  Yeah.  Um…you can get a
                                        bottle of Jack and we have shirts
                                        and hats.  It’s $5.00 off.           

                                                                MAN
                                        Jack?  I don’t drink that shit.  But
                                        I want a shirt.

                                                                GIRL
                                        Um…we’re trying to give the shirts to
                                        people who drink Jack.  

                                                                MAN
                                        I don’t drink.  15 years sober.  But
                                        I still want a shirt.  

                                                                GIRL
                                        Um…Oh!  Ask her!

We see a younger girl in the same shirt - but not nearly the same chest – walk up and plop her
purse under the display table, and ASK:

                                                                GIRL #2
                                        Ask me what?
                
                                                                MAN
                                        How can I get a shirt?

Girl #2 sighs and rolls her eyes; she’s been though this before.

                                                                GIRL #2
                                                (as a practiced routine)
                                        We’re doing a special today: Jack is
                                        $5 off; only $16.99.  It’s mellowed in
                                        10 feet of maple sugar, a great treat
                                        for yourself or friends.  We have shirts
                                        and hats and you can visit the Jack bus
                                        outside for free.  Would you like me to
                                        put the bottle in your cart today so you
                                        can save $5 now?  

                                                                MAN
                                        No.  I just want a shirt.  

                                                                GIRL #2
                                (mustering sweetness through frustration)        
                                        OK.  Here you go.  Thank you for
                                        supporting Jack Daniels.  

As he leaves, GIRL #2 with arms akimbo turns to Girl #1

                                                                GIRL #2 (cont.)
                                        June, why did you have him “ask me?”  You
                                        know we can’t turn him down if he asks for
                                        one – I hate always having to be the bad
                                        guy.  
                
                                                                JUNE
                                        Cause I wanted you to tell him “no” or send
                                        him to the bus.  

June again flips open the compact and proceeds to poke at the sore.

                                                                JUNE (cont.)
                                        My Dentist says he won’t bleach my teeth
                                        again.  But I just can’t get them white
                                        enough.  Did you know that you’re born with
                                        a certain color to your teeth – like yellow,
                                        or grey or blue?  He says if I bleach them
                                        again they’ll turn grey.

                                                                GIRL #2
                                        No, they’ll be see-through.  Stop poking
                                        at your lip, you’re only making it worse.
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