[code]INT. PHILOSOPHERS DEN
THE PHILOSOPHERS, roundabouts 27 of them, are going at it. Stabbing each other shedding blood, screaming and kicking, strangling, wrestling in pools of blood. At one point
CLEMENTINE enters. Holds her hands to her cheeks like The Scream, and in bizarre slow motion the words comer out;
CLEMENTINE
This isn’t any fun!
The wrestling stops. The stabbing stops, the strangling stops. The philosophers, panting, come to a rest, their wounds heal. The ones that lay for dead get up, as from a deep dream filled sleep.
All look at the blood on the floor. BARTHOLOMEW, a fat man with a Sumo attire, scrubs himself with a towel and reaches for a bathrobe, calls out
BARTHOLOMEW
I was on call last time.
Two young guys, FEISL and CURTLY, who have made it particularly gnarly are looked at.
Another dude, PERPLEXUM aka PERP who is scabbarding a sword, calls out to Feisl.
PERPLEXUM
You Feisl. Step up.
The guys shrug, fair is fair is their attitude, they grab the mops.
A lanky older dude with stylishly combed grey hair and a do-it-yourself attitude and attire, CANNONBALL, looks around the remains of the spectacle.
CANONBALL
Geez.
His bud, BRISBANE CHARLIE, nods appreciatively.
BRISBANE CHARLIE
Good one huh?
Clementine in her black heels makes a tippy toe path over the part of the floor that FESL has been mopping.
CLOSE UP CLEMENTINES FEET
Beautiful toes with nicely polished nails get tiny drips of blood on them.
Cut back to medium footage
Clementine hovers among two middle aged dudes, THORAX and SALAZAR
She prods Salazar, he turns, as does Thorax.
CLEMENTINE
Please, why does it always have to
be like this?
A third guy, RHINOCEROS BEZOS, sharply yells out
RB
It’s PLATE’s fault.
Clementine turns to him, startled.
CLEM
(softly)
Plate’s fault?
RB
Uhh-yupp!
She looks at Salazar who is shaking his head in a contemptuous grin, and at Thorax, who is smiling in affirmation.
CLEM
God dammit, cant you two
ever agree?
THORAX
When it comes to Plato? No.
SALAZAR
Nehp.
Clem throws out her hands.
CLEM
Okay two says it’s Plate’s fault.
Versus one who doesnt
so, democracy is Greek right?
BB
That’s fucking true!
All three philosophers nod and mumble
3 PHILOSOPHERS
True, true, a fact and a truth
hmm hmm, let’s smoke a cigar.
EXT. PHILOSOPHERS DEN
Nightfall, easy chairs around a hearth in the shape of a Lion and a monkey holding a globe wrapped in snakes, the men sit down and light cigars. BLONDIE, a pretty blonde, goes around with some bottles and pours the men what they like in their respective glasses, chalices, horns and paper cups.
A HERD OF BUFFALO passes along. The MOON rises. Night comes deeper. Stars are visible and revolve.
Some philosophers have nodded off, some lay in the grass on their backs, others sit to the fire, talking, THORAX and DREW, a young sporty energetic type, are feeding the fire with fresh logs.
THORAX
Say Drew where do you stand on
this?
DREW
Plate?
Thorax nods solemnly and stands up, puffs the cigar, looks at the horizon, speaks
THORAX
Plate.
DREW
I dont know, Young dumb and
famous?
Thorax spits out his smoke, coughs violently in an attempt to let his laugh run. It doesnt work. He swallows his cough and hohums and hunkers back down.
Nods.
THORAX
Good point. Good point.
He sniffs. Both men go at prodding the fire and judging it.
THORAX
Shit.
DREW
That’s not a solution though I
know.
THORAX
Yeah.
DREW
You know my uncle has a time
machine.
Looks at Thorax. Thorax looks back. Slowly brings his cigar to his mouth
THORAX
You don’t say
Smokes. Looks at moon.
EXT. MOON - DARKNESS
Two snow-white wolves prowl the dark side of the moon, lit by a microscopic alien battleship.
EXT. PLATO’s CAVE
A cave entrance with some rackety carpenter barricades in front of it. A small sighn (in Greek, obviously) reads
STAY OUT OR GET IN
INT. PLATO’s CAVE
PLATO is dancing and prancing around in a short garment, turning on his toes and woo-hooing. While dancing and prancing he makes coal markings on the wall of the cave. He sings
PLATO
Why-so-se-erious?
THUNDER rolls in the distance. Plato goes out and looks, feels for rain on his palm, sniffles puts on sandals and a toga and hurries to his domicile. Above the door is chiseled (in Greek, obviously)
HE WHO DOESNT UNDERSTAND MATHEMATICS, STAY OUT
He enters and closes the door. As he does, the rumbling sound again but closer, and it sodesnt really sound like thunder. More metallic.
TO BE CONTINUED
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