biography
A diatribe dialogue of memoirs
michael reading
FADE IN:
A baby is spat out from a thirty something woman, (probably my mother). It’s crying a lot and some lunatic in a white coat is holding up something very sharp.
doctor
Don’t worry Mrs. Reading, he won’t feel a thing.
michael (v.o.)
Hey Dr. Frankenstein, don’t even think about... Ahhhh!
CLOSE ON MICHAEL’S FACE,
which is blood spattered as he screams in agony.
nurse (v.o.)
(scrutinizing baby)
What an ugly kid.
int. family HOME – DAY - early 70’s
A Child Psychologist visits Michael’s mother, reporting on his mental health.
mother
So you’re saying he’s a bit, you know...
Mrs. Reading takes a brief glimpse at Michael who is playing in the background with a stack of different shaped pegs, inexplicably trying to place a square peg in a round hole.
mother (cont’d)
... a bit slow?
child psychologist
I prefer the term, late developer. He’s probably good with his mind in an imaginary kind of way. Shapes aren’t everything. Rest assured I can’t see any great problems ahead for him.
The Child Psychologist writes on his notepad.
close on NOTEPAD,
‘The kid’s retarded, a total square’.
flash forward – int. michael’s bedroom – early 80’s
Michael removes his boxer shorts in front of a naked girl who is lying across his bed in anticipation.
girl
(staring at his
manhood)
Oh my God, that’s it. It’s kind of …. tiny.
michael
I keep telling you I’m a late developer.
int. family home – day (back to early 70’s)
child psychologist
So what kind of relationship does Michael have with his father?
mother
He’s a typically good dad, always playing with his son.
From the next room, echoes the sound of pool balls striking each other, shortly followed by an abusive tirade.
father (o.S.)
You moron, you fuckin’ idiot, I told you to be careful. Can’t you tell red from green? Now do something useful and get me another beer, Stevie Wonder.
mother
He kind of gets confused with colours, but he’s very good with shades of gray. In fact, he likes to wear sun shades while sketching these amazing charcoal stick figures.
child psychologist
I see. Look, colour is overrated. Maybe his mind is busy processing other things. Shades, hmm, he’s probably more of a black and white kind of guy. Don’t worry; I can’t see any debilitating effects down the road.
The Child Psychologist writes on his notepad.
close on NOTEPAD,
‘Kid can’t tell shit from clay’.
flash forward – ext. michael’s CAR – mid 80’s
Michael’s car is pulled over to the curb. He stands beside a Police Officer who interrogates him for running a red light.
cop
Sir, did you not notice the light was red?
michael
(scratches head)
Ah…
Michael desperately feels around his pockets unable to locate what he is searching for.
michael
Can I borrow your shades?
cop
Excuse me!
Michael takes the liberty of removing the Cop’s dark shades and places them over his eyes before casting a look back at the traffic lights.
close on red light
(back to scene)
michael
(nodding)
Oh right. You mean the top one, but I was waiting for the stick figure man.
int. family home – day (back to early 70’s)
mother
What about his poor concept of numbers and inability to form proper letters or digits?
child psychologist
Mrs. Reading, some kids count in a unique way using a symbolic type of representation rather than the conventional method.
mother
You mean something like the Egyptians used on pyramid walls or in his case… my walls.
The Mother and Psychologist stare towards a small blackboard which is clean, but behind it on the wall is a series of numbers scribbled upside down and sideways with poorly formed letters scattered in between.
child psychologist
(shaking head)
Fascinating, it seems to repeat itself over and over and each block of dribble seems to be of the same length. I’ve no doubt there may be some kind of order within this seemingly hopeless anarchy.
The Child Psychologist writes on his notepad.
close ON NOTEPAD,
‘Kid makes up his own rules’.
(back to scene)
child psychologist (cont’d)
I’d say the non compliance and inability to correctly form figures could be the result of some kind of trauma causing a severe case of numero phobia. Was there any childhood incident that could have caused this?
mother
(looks up, ponders)
Hmm, numero phobia, I do think it could be a side effect from his arachnophobia. I recall a spider appearing on his crib one night.
child psychologist
Why would a spider cause numero phobia?
mother
Actually, there were three of them. That’s a lot of legs.
child psychologist
Anyway, I think numbers are overrated; he’ll adjust and be fine.
flash forward – supermarket – late 80’s
Michael is at a cash register in the Supermarket, where a long line of people impatiently wait behind him while he works out how much he owes.
cashier
Sir, come on, you need to hurry up.
michael
Don’t rush me, I only have two hands.
Michael holds out his hands in front of his eyes with his fingers widely spread apart. Scrawly written digits, upside down and backwards, decorate each finger as he attempts to count to eleven.
michael
Nine… ten…. oh no, I haven’t enough fingers.
A customer behind Michael drops a subtle hint.
customer in line
Hey Buddy, you don’t have to work out the formula for relativity. Hurry up I wanna be home for Christmas.
Michael lifts up his right foot and drops it onto the counter. He then removes his shoe and sock. His toes also have the same cryptically sprawled numbers covering them, enabling him to continue counting.
michael
Eleven! Got it. Thank God for toes.
Michael now unsuccessfully searches his pockets as the waiting line of people GROAN in dismay.
michael (cont’d)
Now where did I put my wallet?
int. family home – day (back to early 70’s)
mother
His reading skills are also very poor. He struggles with Dr. Seuss books. He looks at the same book for hours and recites an inaccurate version of the story, over and over until I have to rip it out of his hands.
child psychologist
He’s probably a pictorial kind of kid using images to acquire information rather than words. Reading’s not everything; I’m sure he’ll get by with a minimum of fuss. He’s simply not interested in letters.
The Child Psychologist writes on his notepad.
close on NOTEPAD,
‘Kid reads between the lines’.
flash forward - int. restaurant – early 90’s
Michael stands impatiently, loitering outside a restaurant’s toilets, appearing desperate to relieve himself. He moves in front of each toilet door but cannot decide which one to enter.
Finally a male patron comes out of the toilet with the title ‘MEN’ on the door. Michael urgently enters.
LATER
Michael is sticking a picture of a MAN onto the toilet door over the title ‘MEN’.
int. family home – day (back to early 70’s)
mother
He seems a vague kind of kid, always staring into space and reciting his dreams, repeating the same themes over and over again with little variation. Only the names change but never the characters.
child psychologist
He’s in touch with his brain’s right hemisphere. I’m sure his imagery is intense and vibrant. There’s nothing wrong with experiencing hypnotic trances. I’m sure he’ll grow out of them as he gets older.
The Child Psychologist writes on his notepad.
close on NOTEPAD,
‘Kid is moronic with a one track mind’.
flash forward - int. office – mid 90’s
ANGLE ON,
Michael’s head can be viewed over the top of his computer as he diligently works away.
His restless boss urgently approaches him while shaking his head.
boss
Michael, I know it’s casual Friday, but come on.
CLOSE ON MICHAEL,
He is wearing his pyjamas, a dressing gown and slippers.
michael
Don’t blame me; this is the result of a recurring dream. Just be thankful I’m not naked.
int. family home – day (back to early 70’s)
Michael’s mother is emotional as she expresses deep despair over her son’s future.
mother
So with all these psychological hurdles, what will become of him? What can he do for a living in this brutal, fickle and judgemental world?
child psychologist
Ok, so he suffers dyslexia, anxiety from dreams, has appalling concentration, inhibited social
skills --
Suddenly Michael’s father commences ranting and raving.
father (o.s.)
Michael, you half-wit, are those ears painted on?
child psychologist
… Hearing problems, and is mentally scarred from a torrent of childhood abuse, or if you prefer, … friendly fire.
mother
What future does he have?
child psychologist
Sadly, all the symptoms are there! The rehashing of tiresome clichés with the churning out of meaningless dribble, repeating the same dull themes and escapades day in, day out, before indecipherably scrawling it all down into a weird looking format.
(ponders)
And if he can get it down to a running time of approximately 23 minutes in duration then I hate to say this, but he’ll make a perfect TV sitcom writer.
Michael’s mother buries her head in her hands and begins weeping.
child psychologist (cont’d)
Look, Mrs. Reading, I’m very sorry, but there are some mindless people who do appreciate them.
Michael’s father continues to rant and rave.
father (o.S.)
Hey Dickhead, get the football off now and turn it to Cheers, will ya. It’s time to watch my favourite, crappy sitcom.
michael (o.S.)
You got it, Dad.
child psychologist
(nodding)
Very interesting.
FADE OUT.