to watch reruns.
(screams at the ceiling)
Time for a hiatus! I’m fucking sick of this! I want a new trailer!
Several moments of silence.
DAVIE
(to Velvet)
He’s in a production meeting.
(yells at the ceiling)
I know how this movie ends!
Again, silence.
VELVET
I thought you were an atheist.
DAVIE
Depends on my mood. Which depends on my blood sugar. So really my entire spiritual ethos is based around insulin.
Velvet rolls off the bed and begins perusing the selection of takeout menus pinned to the walls.
VELVET
So are we ordering in? Agnostic pizza, reincarnated Pad Thai, Godless sashimi?
DAVIE
You can if you want. I’m going out. Save some for me.
VELVET
Where’re you going?
DAVIE
The witching hour nears. I’m off to get myself a little warlock for my birthday.
He moves to get off the bed. Velvet sets a new land-speed record charging from a menu to Davie’s feet. She grabs his arm.
VELVET
Stay. Stay. Stay. Stay. Stay.
DAVIE
Five stays. Not enough for a corset, my dear, though you’re starting to need one.
VELVET
Cruel.
DAVIE
Yeah.
VELVET
Stay.
DAVIE
No.
Velvet continues to cling to his arm. He tries to shake her off. They end up wrestling on the floor.
VELVET
(crying)
You promised! You promised! Don’t go!
DAVIE
Fuck off! Fuck you! Get off me!
He manages to pin her to the floor.
DAVIE
(screams into her face)
Stop it! Stop! Stop!
Velvet’s struggles chameleon into limp surrender, and a moment ices over in stillness between them.
DAVIE
(speaks slowly)
I will be back late. If you’re here, you better not be alone. You better be in the company of cold egg rolls. Nod if you understand me.
She nods. He slips his tongue into her mouth, a silky probe that mines deep. Her body buckles and shakes.
INT. BRINKLEY’S HELL—MIRROR—
DAVIE’S APARTMENT—BATHROOM—LATER
Velvet stands before the toothpaste-speckled mirror. Shy, uncertain fingers discover the skin of her face. She does not see her reflection.
INT. BRINKLEY’S HELL—MIRROR—
DAVIE’S BATHROOM—MIRROR—CONTINUOUS
The Shadowman appears. He is styled as a Gene Kelly look-alike, a lá
Singin’ in the Rain
, and his yellow raincoat is painfully shiny. A smile, like the ripples from a plunged stone, radiates across his face. He opens a bright yellow umbrella.
SHADOWMAN
Is it rainin’? Are you sad? Did the motherfucker leave you again? There, there, pet. I’ll cheer you up in a jiffy. Shall we sing a song? Can you tap dance? Take my hand. I’ll show you how.
He extends his hand to her while twirling the umbrella over his head. His eyes gleam and his teeth twinkle.
INT. BRINKLEY’S HELL—MIRROR—
DAVIE’S BATHROOM—CONTINUOUS
Velvet’s eyes shoot joyful sparklers of recognition into the movie star gaze in the mirror. She shrieks and giggles like a child sprayed by a hose on a hot day, and begins to belt out “Singin’ in the Rain.”
INT. BRINKLEY’S HELL—MIRROR—
DAVIE’S BATHROOM—MIRROR—CONTINUOUS
The Shadowman—as Gene Kelly—is tap dancing as though he’s got hot coals in his shoes. Wild acrobatic leaps and twirls of his umbrella fill up his silvery stage. His eyes glitter, splintered with diamond chips of mischief. He pauses and steps to the fore, not in the least out of breath. The yellow umbrella gives his face a jaundiced look.
SHADOWMAN
Did you put your dancing shoes on?
He tosses the umbrella and holds out his arms.
SHADOWMAN
(urgently)
Jump into my arms! Jump into my arms! Dance with me!
INT. BRINKLEY’S HELL—MIRROR—
DAVIE’S BATHROOM—CONTINUOUS
Shattered glass covers the bathroom and Velvet like lethal, oversized snowflakes. She is on the floor, a tassel of blood streaming from a small gash near her eye. Her fingers smudge the crimson into sponge art. The canvas of her face is dazed, unable to comprehend the colour it has been splashed with, or why.
The Shadowman steps from the corner of the room. He no longer looks like Gene Kelly. His face is
(screams at the ceiling)
Time for a hiatus! I’m fucking sick of this! I want a new trailer!
Several moments of silence.
DAVIE
(to Velvet)
He’s in a production meeting.
(yells at the ceiling)
I know how this movie ends!
Again, silence.
VELVET
I thought you were an atheist.
DAVIE
Depends on my mood. Which depends on my blood sugar. So really my entire spiritual ethos is based around insulin.
Velvet rolls off the bed and begins perusing the selection of takeout menus pinned to the walls.
VELVET
So are we ordering in? Agnostic pizza, reincarnated Pad Thai, Godless sashimi?
DAVIE
You can if you want. I’m going out. Save some for me.
VELVET
Where’re you going?
DAVIE
The witching hour nears. I’m off to get myself a little warlock for my birthday.
He moves to get off the bed. Velvet sets a new land-speed record charging from a menu to Davie’s feet. She grabs his arm.
VELVET
Stay. Stay. Stay. Stay. Stay.
DAVIE
Five stays. Not enough for a corset, my dear, though you’re starting to need one.
VELVET
Cruel.
DAVIE
Yeah.
VELVET
Stay.
DAVIE
No.
Velvet continues to cling to his arm. He tries to shake her off. They end up wrestling on the floor.
VELVET
(crying)
You promised! You promised! Don’t go!
DAVIE
Fuck off! Fuck you! Get off me!
He manages to pin her to the floor.
DAVIE
(screams into her face)
Stop it! Stop! Stop!
Velvet’s struggles chameleon into limp surrender, and a moment ices over in stillness between them.
DAVIE
(speaks slowly)
I will be back late. If you’re here, you better not be alone. You better be in the company of cold egg rolls. Nod if you understand me.
She nods. He slips his tongue into her mouth, a silky probe that mines deep. Her body buckles and shakes.
INT. BRINKLEY’S HELL—MIRROR—
DAVIE’S APARTMENT—BATHROOM—LATER
Velvet stands before the toothpaste-speckled mirror. Shy, uncertain fingers discover the skin of her face. She does not see her reflection.
INT. BRINKLEY’S HELL—MIRROR—
DAVIE’S BATHROOM—MIRROR—CONTINUOUS
The Shadowman appears. He is styled as a Gene Kelly look-alike, a lá
Singin’ in the Rain
, and his yellow raincoat is painfully shiny. A smile, like the ripples from a plunged stone, radiates across his face. He opens a bright yellow umbrella.
SHADOWMAN
Is it rainin’? Are you sad? Did the motherfucker leave you again? There, there, pet. I’ll cheer you up in a jiffy. Shall we sing a song? Can you tap dance? Take my hand. I’ll show you how.
He extends his hand to her while twirling the umbrella over his head. His eyes gleam and his teeth twinkle.
INT. BRINKLEY’S HELL—MIRROR—
DAVIE’S BATHROOM—CONTINUOUS
Velvet’s eyes shoot joyful sparklers of recognition into the movie star gaze in the mirror. She shrieks and giggles like a child sprayed by a hose on a hot day, and begins to belt out “Singin’ in the Rain.”
INT. BRINKLEY’S HELL—MIRROR—
DAVIE’S BATHROOM—MIRROR—CONTINUOUS
The Shadowman—as Gene Kelly—is tap dancing as though he’s got hot coals in his shoes. Wild acrobatic leaps and twirls of his umbrella fill up his silvery stage. His eyes glitter, splintered with diamond chips of mischief. He pauses and steps to the fore, not in the least out of breath. The yellow umbrella gives his face a jaundiced look.
SHADOWMAN
Did you put your dancing shoes on?
He tosses the umbrella and holds out his arms.
SHADOWMAN
(urgently)
Jump into my arms! Jump into my arms! Dance with me!
INT. BRINKLEY’S HELL—MIRROR—
DAVIE’S BATHROOM—CONTINUOUS
Shattered glass covers the bathroom and Velvet like lethal, oversized snowflakes. She is on the floor, a tassel of blood streaming from a small gash near her eye. Her fingers smudge the crimson into sponge art. The canvas of her face is dazed, unable to comprehend the colour it has been splashed with, or why.
The Shadowman steps from the corner of the room. He no longer looks like Gene Kelly. His face is
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