Read Online The Big Bamboo by Tim Dorsey - Free Book Online Page B

complex.”
    Ford crossed out a verb with his pen, making it active. “Looks like we’re in luck tonight.”
    Mark pointed at the pages. “Where’d you learn this screenwriting stuff, anyway?”
    “Wannabe screenwriting magazines full of ads saying they’ll get your script produced and then request five hundred dollars for copying and postage every few weeks as long as you’re stupid enough. But if you stick to the articles, you’re okay.”
    Mark read the current page over Ford’s shoulder. “It’s just talking.”
    “That’s how it’s done. All dialogue. Once you’re familiar with your characters, it flows. Most of mine are people I know.” He marked through a nonagreeing pronoun. “A minute of talking, a page. Hundred pages, you got a movie. You need a setting, just give it a label and the movie people figure the rest.”
    “Label?”
    “Say you need a busy city street at night? Just type: ‘busy city street at night.’ They’ll come up with the honking Checker cabs and neon cocktail glasses and Latin kids in white tank tops and Saint Christopher medals spilling out of a pizzeria. All that detail stuff is for books. I just need a label.”
    “What about a space station?” asked Mark.
    “Or a space station,” said Ford. “Or the food court of a nondescript mall in Burbank.”
    “What are these abbreviations, O.S.? P.O.V.?”
    “Off stage, point of view. Like, ‘Character reacts to noise O.S.,’ or ‘Switch to killer’s P.O.V.’”
    “Can I see?”
    Ford handed the stack to Mark, who slowly became engrossed. “Say, this ain’t bad. Like I’m not even reading, just turning pages.”
    “Based on true events. Wrote most of it since I got here and bought that cheap typewriter at the pawnshop.”
    “What are all these dollar signs?”
    “The capital
S
doesn’t work.”
    “You put me in here. You changed my name to Mark.”
    “For legal reasons…”
    “You made me stupid.”
    “…In case you sued.”
    A group of blue-collar young men strolled through the food court, trying to decide.
    “Oh, no,” said Mark. A minute till ten, said the clock.
    “They’ll probably eat somewhere else,” said Ford.
    “Go to the Magic Wok,” said Mark. “
Please
go to the Magic Wok.”
    “See?” said Ford. “They’re heading somewhere else.”
    “They’re turning around!” said Mark. “They’re looking at our sign. Fuck, fuck, fuck!…”
    The young men approached the counter. Ford stepped up to the register and smiled. “Can I take your order?”
    “Just a sec.” Their eyes angled up at the menu board. “Okay, wait.” They read some more. They talked it over among themselves. They came to a decision. They decided against it. The first customer pointed up over Ford’s head. “What’s the Orient Express?”
    “Slightly tangy. Comes with Chinese mustard.”
    “Can I get extra packets?”
    “Sure.”
    “What about the Rock Island Line?”
    “Rock salt,” said Ford. “Not really rock salt, but they tell us to say that. It’s just big salt.”
    “Is it salty?”
    “Pretty salty.”
    Background:
“…Fuck, fuck, fuck…”
    Ford briefly turned his head: “Shhhh!”
    “The Grand Central Station?” asked the customer.
    “Our largest,” said Ford. “Feeds two.”
    “I don’t know.” The customer looked at his friends. “What do you think, guys?”
    “…Fuck!…”
    The customer quickly spun back to the counter.
    Ford smiled nervously.
    “What was that?”
    “I didn’t say anything,” said Ford.
    “Not you. That guy back there.”
    “I didn’t hear anything,” said Ford. He noticed a blue Navy anchor on the man’s forearm.
    “Yeah, he said something all right. Was he talking to us?”
    “I’m sorry,” said Ford. “He’s had a hard day.”
    “
I’ve
had a hard day. And now all I want to do is eat a pretzel, but somebody’s got a
fucking attitude
!”
    “You ever work retail?” snapped Mark. He tapped the face on his wristwatch. “It’s four after