Boss turns and leaves the room. Chuck and Thomas are speechless. Chuck reaches into his drawer and pulls out a plastic bag. CHUCK I guess I won’t give him this. THOMAS What is it? CHUCK Jogging pants. (shrugging) No forwarding address. Chuck tosses them to Thomas. CHUCK Here, use them with passion. Thomas looks down at the bag. THOMAS Things aren’t so good, are they Chuck? CHUCK No, my friend, they’re not. Chuck throws down the letters in his hand. CHUCK Well! Screw this, I’m gettin’ outta this hell hole. I got a mildly attractive wife and two bug-eyed kids waitin’ for me. You comin’? THOMAS Naw. Her letter comes today. Chuck throws on his coat. Short Screenplays 333 App-B.qxd 9/27/04 6:02 PM Page 333 CHUCK Wanna see what I found today? He holds up the drawing of the dead Santa. CHUCK Nice, huh? THOMAS Who sent that? Chuck crumples the picture into a ball and throws it onto the sorting table. CHUCK A very misdirected child. There’s a CLUNK from above. CHUCK I’ll leave you two alone. A pat on the back and Chuck’s gone. Silence. The letter travels its whispering path and lands in front of Thomas. He rips open the envelope. AMANDA (V.O.) My dearest Joshua. I am writing to you for what may be the last time. The little hope I’ve been clinging to is gone. CUT TO: EXT. STREET—AFTERNOON Thomas rides down the street between two long snow banks. He notices nothing. The world does not exist. AMANDA (V.O.) Once, I could believe that a miracle could fall from the sky. But as the season becomes colder, I now know that I can’t stay in a life that doesn’t need me. 334 Writing the Short Film App-B.qxd 9/27/04 6:02 PM Page 334 Amanda’s letter flaps inside the plastic basket. CUT TO: EXT. STREET We follow a scruffy pair of shoes making tracks down the sidewalk. A black bag bounces against his knees. Shouting and police sirens can be heard. CUT TO: EXT. STREET Thomas’s wheels crunch through the cold winter air. CUT TO: EXT. STREET The scruffy pair of shoes, now attached to a scruffy looking man round the corner and SLAM!!! Right into Thomas. Police round the corner. The man untangles himself and flees, dropping the black bag on the road. Police pound past. Silence. Bicycle wheels spinning. Thomas reaches over and pulls the bag close to him. He slowly unzips it and looks in. CUT TO: EXT. SHOP—AFTERNOON Thomas’s bicycle slides to a stop in front of a small second-hand shop. In the window, a Santa suit stands glowing in the cold afternoon light. Thomas cuffs the kickstand and dismounts. CUT TO: EXT. STREET—CHRISTMAS EVE—LATE AFTERNOON Christmas decorations droop across the street top, smothering the air with Christmas joy. Snow pours out of the sky. The faint sound of Booker T & the MGs playing “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town.” Then, out of the snow, barreling down the street is Thomas. Short Screenplays 335 App-B.qxd 9/27/04 6:02 PM Page 335 His bicycle is decorated like a Mr. Magoo version of a Norman Rockwell Santa sled. A plastic Rudolf the Red- Nosed Reindeer with a glowing cherry red nose is wired to the front. A transistor radio propped up in his basket blares Booker T. Thomas sits decked head to waist in the Santa costume from the store window. On his legs are the orange jogging pants from Chuck. The black bag sticks out of his mail sack. Madly, he steers his bike through the snow. He cuts sharp right down the next block. CUT TO: EXT. EMPIRE STATE BUILDING—NIGHT A Salvation Army Santa Claus stands in the cold next to his empty money pot senselessly ringing his bell. Thomas buzzes up past him and curbs his bike. He steps onto the pavement, grabs the bag and pats Rudolf on the head. THOMAS Don’t go away, I’ll be back in a zip. He approaches the entrance. DARREL (O.S.) Yo, Santa! A group of young black kids rouse Thomas from behind. DARREL, the leader of the boys, struts up to Thomas and pushes him in the back. Thomas turns in confusion. DARREL Santa, I’m talking to you. His friends walk up and surround Thomas. DARREL Yeah, I was just wondering if you got any presents in that bag for me. The boys laugh. 336 Writing the Short Film App-B.qxd 9/27/04 6:02 PM Page 336 THOMAS What? He pulls a knife from under his jacket. DARREL Let’s get this over with. Give me your money. The kids pull in tighter. Thomas looks over to the Salvation Army Santa and back to the kid. DARREL Come on, man. I don’t need this crap tonight. THOMAS Can I ask you a question? Darrel’s thrown back by his sincerity. DARREL (looking around to his boys) A fuckin’ crazy man. (back to Thomas) Yeah, OK. What? THOMAS You ever believe in Santa Claus? All the boys laugh. THOMAS As a kid? DARREL I don’t believe in no fairy tales, and I sure as hell never expected no handouts. I got schooled pretty quick that what you take is what you get. So to answer your question, I never had a chance to believe in no Santi Claus. THOMAS I’m sorry. Short Screenplays 337 App-B.qxd 9/27/04 6:02 PM Page 337 DARREL Yeah, so am I. Thomas grabs a couple hundred dollars from his pouch. THOMAS (dropping the bills into Darrel’s open hands) That’s all I can give you. Thomas disappears into the Empire State Building. As he trails off down the hallway, satchel in hand, the camera PANS UP to the top of the Empire State Building. DISSOLVE TO: INT. AMANDA’S HOUSE—NIGHT CLOSE-UP on a framed postcard of King Kong scaling the side of the Empire State Building. SCREAMS and HOWLS blare from off-screen. The camera DOLLIES OVER to Amanda, who stands at the kitchen sink, plate in hand, carefully listening to an old transistor radio which rests on the window sill. A NEWS CASTER continues: NEWSCASTER (O.S.) The police don’t seem to know what to do. Nothing like this has ever happened on Christmas Eve . . . EXT. AMANDA’S HOUSE Thomas sits on his bike across the street watching Amanda through the window. A pile of Amanda’s letters neatly tied under a red velvet bow sits in his basket. Thomas straightens his eyebrows and readjusts his beard. THOMAS Hello, my name is Thomas Fupper. I know you don’t know me, but I . . . (he inhales deeply) I am in love with you. He grabs the letters and dismounts his bike. Swiping his hand along Rudolf’s body, he gives him a quick pat on the head and moves toward the house. 338 Writing the Short Film App-B.qxd 9/27/04 6:02 PM Page 338 EXT. AMANDA’S FRONT WALK Long strides. Slowing as they approach the door. Smooth yellow paint surrounds the buzzer. Thomas’s long bony finger reaches in. He pauses. Moving closer, now shaking. The door bell shrieks. He beckons the dreaded buzzer. THOMAS Hello, my name is Thomas . . . From inside he hears the VOICE OF THE NEWSCASTER. INSERT RADIO: NEWSCASTER (O.S.) The riots started shortly after a man apparently dressed as Santa Claus threw approximately forty thousand dollars off of the top of the building . . . CUT BACK TO: The voice trails off. LOUD SCREAMS AND POLICE SIRENS are heard from inside the transmitted world. Thomas stands stunned. Fire. Howling sirens. It can’t be real. He falters back, unable to comprehend the repercussions of his actions. Suddenly the door opens. Thomas jumps and drops the letters. They tumble and spill across the front steps. He glances down at the letters and back to Amanda, who quickly recognizes them as hers. Embarrassment contorts in her saddened eyes. THOMAS I, I . . . He slowly backs away as Amanda looks down at the letters. THOMAS (continuing to back up) I . . . I’m sorry. He turns and bolts right into his bike, causing it to come crashing down with him. He stumbles to his feet and takes off down the block. Short Screenplays 339 App-B.qxd 9/27/04 6:02 PM Page 339 . life that doesn’t need me. 334 Writing the Short Film App-B.qxd 9/27/04 6:02 PM Page 334 Amanda’s letter flaps inside the plastic basket. CUT TO: EXT decorations droop across the street top, smothering the air with Christmas joy. Snow pours out of the sky. The faint sound of Booker T & the MGs playing “Santa