Not So Hard

"I won't end up rotting away at Shugar Belt, ma. I've got a plan."

"Plans are good....""

"Yeah, me and Finkie--"

"Finkie?"

"Yeah, we're--"

"Plans can also be bad."

"We're going to write for television."

"Enough foolishness. Go back to school."

"I hate school. The profs are all dick-heads."

"Everyone is a dick-head for you. Become a radiologist."

"What?"

"Radiologists are the highest paid specialists and all they do is look at x-rays. This one has spot on it, that one doesn't. How hard can that be?"

"Where is radiology stuff coming from?"

"Susan Berger's son, Morrie, is a radiologist in Toronto--"

"Morrie with the carbuncle on his neck?"

"That's Dr. Morrie and he got the carbuncle removed. Meanwhile he's a doctor and he doesn't even have to touch a patient. How much smarter could one get? Be a radiologist, Harry. It's clean, it's easy and the money is nice."

"I have no interest in being a radiologist. None."

"Then become a pharmacist. So you count pills all day. How hard can that be?"

"You want me to count pills?"

"Today they have machines that do all the counting. All you have to do is read a number and print a label. How hard can that be?"

"Maybe I should get a job as a toll-booth collector? How hard can that be?"

"So you have a plan with Finkie? A plan for disaster I say."

That's what ma said. Dad said,"First an actor, now you want to be a writer. That's dopey."

"You always told me to do what I want."

"But I never said, 'Do something dopey.' That's all the world needs, another starving writer."

"But television writers make big money."

"When did you ever want to write? I never saw you writing, only prancing around reading scripts."

"Who was prancing? I was studying my lines."

"You liked it so people should watch you. That's prancing enough for me. Go make some money selling belts. Live at home, save your money and never eat in restaurants. Then go buy a building. By sixty, you'll be set. How hard can that be?"

What did they know? What does anyone know? Harry knew one thing...two things:

1) That Finkie's plan gave him something to dream about again.
2)  That he liked working at Shugar Belt and hated that he liked it. Selling belts seemed so marginal.

What could you ever hope to accomplish selling belts? Who remembered the greats of the belt world, like the inventors of the reversible belt, or the inlaid buckle, or the turned edge? Giants of the belt industry. But where was the glory selling belts? Writing the Feldman spec script was all that mattered.

It would've been easier if Finkie could write, but at least he always had a family story to tell:

Uncle Hershie's boot factory was really a front for a cocaine smuggling operation. (True).

The feds were trying to frame his father for a telemarketing scam. (Not true, his father was a crook).

His sister-in-law kidnapped her own kids, fled to Israel and was living underground. (True).

Sigh. If only his script ideas were as good as the stories.

"Let's give Herb gonorrhea."

"Let's end the scene with Lisa farting."

"Let's make Herb and Weiner gay lovers."

And despite it all, despite it all, the script was getting written, despite the naysayers, despite the inane drivel, despite Finkie's distracting tales of woe. The struggle, the wonder, the delight of words on a page after every session.

            LISA
Do I detect a bit of discomfort?
Does it bother you that Herb is
dating an exact replica of your
girlfriend?

            GARY
Bother me? It should be illegal.

            LISA
Gary Feldman. I can’t believe you’d
begrudge your best friend a little
ray of sunlight into the black hole
of his existence.

            GARY
Lisa, I believe in The Bill of Rights.
I believe that all men are created equal
in the eyes of God. But if Herb Pulaski
is dating my girlfriend’s twin sister,
than Armageddon must be right around the
corner.
        
            LISA
(SMIRKING) Oh, I get it. If you’re
dating twins, by definition, Herb
is doing as well as you. And that
bugs you.

            GARY
(LEANING ACROSS THE TABLE) If Herb
and Jill make it, Herb will have
effectively seen my girl naked. It’s an
invasion of my privacy. He’s breaking
the unwritten code among men.

            LISA
I thought the unwritten code among
men was, “No eye contact in public
urinals.” Besides, this is Herb we’re
talking about. He’ll blow it within a week.

            GARY
What if this time the gods smile
on Herb? He’s due, you know.

            LISA
C'mon, the gods have more sense than
that. (MOCK SERIOUS) But what if he
made a pact with the devil?

           GARY
(DEAD SERIOUS, CONSIDERING THE
POSSIBILITIES) Yeah, what if?


CUT TO:

END OD ACT l:

Writing a script wasn't hard at all.