Just trying to get this done. The Next one after this is Grease. They get to sing. Yay.

Firefly: Here we go again.

Hunter: Your having fun and you know it.

Firefly: Just get on with it.

BEDROOM

Shawn tosses the towel he's dried hair with on the bed.

Shawn: My uncle went to Canada to protest the war, right? On the Fourth of July he was down with my aunt and he got drunk and told my Dad he felt guilty he didn't fight in Viet Nam. So I said, "What's the deal, Uncle Jeff? In wartime you want to be a pacifist and in peacetime you want to be a soldier. It took you twenty years to find out you don't believe in anything?" (snaps his fingers) Grounded. Just like that. Two weeks. (pause) Be careful when you deal with old hippies. They can be real touchy.

Hunter: You would know, wouldn't you Shawn?

Shawn: I am not a hippie!

He opens his door.

CLOSET

The door opens and Shawn rifles through his shirts.

Shawn: My mother was a hippie. But she lost it. She got old. If she listens to the White Album now? She doesn't hear music, she hears memories. Nostalgia is her favorite drug. It'll probably be mine, too. I hope not.

He finds a shirt he likes. He steps back from the closet and puts it on. He drops the towel.

BEDROOM

He walks across the room to his dresser. He opens his underwear drawer. There's an old model of a submarine on the top of the dresser. He picks it up.

Shawn: In eighth grade a friend of mine made a bong out of one of these. The smoke tasted like glue.

He pulls out a pair of underwear. He gets dressed as he speaks.

Shawn: His name is CM Punk. He's a serious outsider. Not a bad guy, I like him. I'm probably his only friend. I do what I can for him. I mean, if I was him, I'd appreciate it. Do unto others, right? Anyway, his mother owns a gas station. His father's dead and his sister's rumored to be a prostitute, which is complete bullshit. She only puts out so people will hang out with her. It's sad but I don't hold it against her. Better to hold it against the guys who use her and don't care about her. (pause) My parents never allowed Punk over here. It was because of his family. Mainly his older brother. He's in jail. I could see them not wanting his brother here because he is a registered psycho. I wouldn't want him here. I once watched the guy eat a whole bowl of artificial fruit just so he could see what it was like to have his stomach pumped. But Punk isn't his brother. It isn't his fault that his brother's screwed-up. Alot of fights with the parents on that point. I always felt for Punk. I was sleeping at his house once and I was laying on the dark worrying that his brother was going to come in and hack me to death with an ax and I heard Punk crying. I asked him what was wrong and he said, "Nothing". ... Nothing was wrong. There was no specific thing he was crying about. In fact, he wasn't really even aware that he was crying. He just cried himself to sleep every night. It was a habit. The guy's so conditioned to grief that if he doesn't feel it, he can't sleep. How could you possibly dump on guy who has to deal with that kinda shit? My parents acknowledge the trudge of the situation and I'm sure that deep down, they do feel for him but still the guy's banned from our house.

He looks at himself in the mirror on the back of his closet door. He doesn't like what he's wearing. He continues his speech as he disrobes.

Shawn: Unfortunately, now my parents have a legit argument. Punk doesn't need his brother to give him a rep anymore. He's getting one on his own. He's lost. It's over for him. He's eighteen. Gone from school. Gone from life. His legacy is a gas station.

HOUSE. STAIRCASE

Shawn comes down the stairs. He's wearing a completely different outfit.

Hunter: Shawn, don't be a girl.

Shawn: Hunter, Shut-up.

Shawn: One very serious danger is playing sick is that it's possible to believe your own act.

KITCHEN

Shawn comes into the kitchen and crosses to the refrigerator.

Shawn: That and boredom. Alot of people ditch and feel great for about an hour. Then they realize there's nothing to do. TV and food. I myself have ditched and gotten so bored I did homework. Figure that shit out.

He takes a sip out of a bottle of orange juice.

Shawn: You have to plan things out before you take the day off. Otherwise you get all nervous worrying about what to do and all you get is grief and the whole point is to take it easy, cut loose and enjoy.

He crosses to the pantry.

Shawn: You blow your day and at about three o'clock, when everybody's out of school, you're going to wish you'd gone to school so you could be out having fun.

He emerges from the pantry with a handful of Oreos.

Shawn: Avoid the misery. Plan your day. Do it right.

FAMILY ROOM

Shawn walks in and flops down in an armchair.

Shawn: There's alot of pressure at work in my age group. And it's not always recognized.

He reaches over and picks up the telephone. He sets it in his lap.

Shawn: Some guy whose hair is falling out and his stomach's hanging over his belt and everything he eats makes him fart, he looks at someone like me and thinks, "This kid's young and strong and has a full, rich future ahead of him, what's he got to bitch about?"

PHONE

He punches out a number.

FAMILY ROOM.

He remote controls the TV on.

Shawn: That's just one reason why I need a day off every now and then.

ANOTHER HOUSE

A sleek, modern house on a couple of deeply wooded acres. A prime house in a prime location. A telephone rings OVER.

BOY'S BEDROOM

It's a dark, dreary sick room. Shades drawn, floor strewn with used tissues, nightstand a still-life of over the counter remedies. A high school boy, RANDY ORTON, is laying in bed. We don't see his face, only a silhouette with a thermometer sticking out his mouth. U2's SUNDAY BLOODY SUNDAY is playing. He's mumbling random words.

Randy: Food...shelter...no...yes...

The phone rings. His hand reaches back and hits the speaker phone button.

Randy: (weak) Hello?

Shawns' Voice: Randy! What's happening?

Randy: Very little.

Shawns' Voice: How do you feel?

Randy: Shredded.

Shawns' Voice: Is your mother in the room?

Randy takes the thermometer out of his mouth.

Randy: She's not home. Where are you?

Shawns' Voice: Home.

FAMILY ROOM.

Shawn is sprawled out in the chair.

Shawn: I'm taking the day off. Get dressed and come over.

Randy's Voice: I can't. I'm sick.

Shawn: It's all in your head. Come on over.

Randy's Room

Randy's insistant.

Randy: I feel like complete shit, Shawn. I can't go anywhere.

Shawns' Voice: I'm sorry to hear that. Now, come on over and pick me up.

Shawn disconnects. Randy slowly hangs up the phone.

Randy: I'm dying.

The phone rings again. Randy hits the speaker button.

Shawns' Voice: You're not dying. You just can't think of anything good to do.

FAMILY ROOM

Shawn hangs up.

Shawn: If anybody needs a day off, it's Randy. He has alot of things to sort out before he graduates. He can't be wound this tight and go to college. His roommate'll kill him. I've come close myself. But I like him. He's a little easier to take when you know why he's like he is. The boy cannot relax. Pardon by French but Randy is so tight that if you stuck a lump of coal up his ass, in two weeks you'd have a diamond. (after-thought) And Randy would worry that he'd owe taxes on it.

Firefly: Ok random time.

SCHOOL. HALLWAY

We hear roll call as CAMERA MOVES ACROSS the tile floor. A shoe's POV.

TEACHER'S VOICE: Rhodes?

BOY'S VOICE: Here.

TEACHER'S VOICE: Phoenix.

GIRL'S VOICE: Here.

CAMERA enters a classroom. It travels past a teacher's Hush Puppies and heads up an aisle of desk past dirty yellow Reebocks, rotting Air Jordans, scuffed heels, pristine loafers...

TEACHER'S VOICE: Murdock?

BOY'S VOICE: Here.

TEACHER'S VOICE: Wilson?

GIRL'S VOICE: Here.

TEACHER'S VOICE: Michaels?

CAMERA reaches the last desk and rises slowly to reveal that it's empty.

TEACHER'S VOICE: Michaels?

GIRL'S VOICE: He's sick. (pause) My best friend's sister's boyfriend's brother's girlfriend heard from this guy who knows this kid who's going with a girl who saw Shawn pass-out at 31 Flavors last night. I guess it's pretty serious.

TEACHER'S VOICE: (weary) Thank you, Cherry.

GIRL'S VOICE: (cheery) No problem whatsoever.

TEACHER'S VOICE Hass?

BOY'S VOICE: What?

WOUND-OUT CAR ENGINES COME UP LOUD.

Hunter: Interesting. We done?

Firefly: Yeah. Goodbye.

Like I said Grease will be next. It was a request by darjh619edge. R/R.