So I’m a screenwriter by trade, and box office projections for suicide squad have been good enough to warrant the start of preproduction. I was hired by Warner Brothers to work on a character treatment of the new joker so they could figure out how he would develop over the next installment. Everything was very hush hush; they only gave us the cold open of the film which covers his origin story, they collected our phones before the session, and scripts were promptly collected before we left. I’m honestly risking my career by sharing this, but the character impacted me so deeply on a visceral level that I feel compelled to warn audiences who may be blindsided by this. Trust me, I was always the first one writing off the stories about Jared Leto’s behavior as viral marketing, but not anymore. Heath Ledger’s joker may have impacted his worldview to the point that he could no longer bear to live, but if that’s all that happens to Leto he will be lucky; I truly believe he will wind up in prison shortly after the film’s release. The following plot details are paraphrased by me, but the quotations literary devices are burned into my consciousness to the point where I know them verbatim. Obviously the pic isn’t me, but it represents the extent to which my mental state has deteriorated since encountering this script. It goes without saying that this isn’t for the faint of heart:
New pasta? It stinks.
>>71995293
>just off of my grounding for my last “project"
>woke up early on sunday, got the New York Times crossword puzzle, and filled in all the answers in pen with “DAMAGED”, “MANIAC”, “CIVILIZEDANIMALS”, and “SOCIETYISANILLUSION”
>X’d out extra squares and put it back
>father lost control of himself and in his mixed emotional furor of fear, dejection, confusion and sadness, bent me over his knee and gave me a spanking with tear soaked eyes. It was the first time of seen him cry, but since then i have frequently seen that same redness in his cheeks
>mother needed to be admitted to psych ward, as police questioning clearly indicated that she posed a threat to herself in the mental state that resulted from my actions
>police couldn’t press charges, as i showed such attention to detail that it appeared as though the crossword section was never removed from the newspaper
>they all knew though, first and foremost my parents, who would never look at me the same way again
>turned out i underestimated how truly deranged i really was, so i decide to be a good little boy to avoid scrutiny and as i lay the foundation my masterpiece
>do all my chores
>meet with my therapist and tell her what she wants to hear
>start going to my church group twice a week instead of just once a week
>finally, i make my first move
>>71995293
Fake post
Generating buzz and tension before just coming out and having your say proves that this is fiction and you're trying to tell a story, not the truth.
Should have kept it a long post.
OR... show some proof that you're a screenwriter at all, in any capacity
>>71995342
in b4 i must be loyle to my capo
>>71995335
>”mother, can i get an ant farm?”
>”…why?” she asks, not even bothering to conceal her suspicion
>”well, my behavior hasn’t been acceptable lately, and i would be lying if i told you this was lost on me. i think being responsible for a community, no matter how insignificant, would help me put things in perspective,” i rattle off, just like i practiced
>”…do you think you’re god?…,” her emotionless inquiry nearly catching me off guard. i suppose i sharpened her wit more than i realized; maybe even opened her eyes
>”divinity and humanity are mutually exclusive, and i only wish to understand the divide. please mother, even if you don’t see me as the son you raised, he is all i am capable of seeing myself as,” the phrase effortlessly falling from my lips as if not spoken by me, but by some kind of demonic ghost
>she buys it
>continue my good behavior
>care for the ants as if they were my own children
>watch them thrive and their colony grow
>parents see me working on my ant farm everyday after i finish my homework, and despite their reticent dispositions, i can see a foundation of hope when i look into there eyes
>its time for me to make my next move
>”father, i know you’ve been saying that you wish id take more of an interest in school, and I’ve finally taken it to heart. i was hoping you could buy me a chemistry set through which i could supplement my studies”
>”a sudden interest in school? what kind of game are you playing!” he replies in a calculated show of primacy about as transparent as some kind of demonic ghost
>”father, I’m through with games, i finally realize that life is no joke and school is the first step on the path to success. if i don’t focus on math and science, i am seriously hurting my future earning potential,” my response a subtle little ploy hedged on his beliefs toward modern education
>”…well…ok, i suppose there’s no harm in purchasing you an educational tool."
>>71995293
Are you a shill, or just a faggot?
>>71995380
CARMELA
>>71995393
>keep up my good behavior
>perform chemistry shows at family gatherings, to much fanfare every time
>a pity that no one bothered to notice my demonstrations were performed with 4 test tubes, while directly above the “ages 10 and up” label, the box clearly indicated that the set came with 5...
>parents now approach me with stern apprehension. there is no trust, but they finally see me as their son again
>its finally time to tie everything together
>”hey mother and father, it’s supposed to be beautiful this weekend. maybe we should go on a picnic?”
>”thats not a bad idea, son!” replied my father, “what do you think, oh beautiful wife?”
>”…sure, why not?” although she had a certain hesitancy to her; a certain paleness of flesh and spirit, not unlike some kind of demonic ghost
>i gather my supplies and prepare for what will be my magnum opus
>after all, my splinter colony was growing quite nicely...
>we arrive at the park
>i lay out the blanket in an area near our parking space, but intentionally leave the basket in the car
>”son, where’s the basket?” my mother asks nonchalantly
>”oh, silly silly me, i must have left it in the car. would you mind getting it?”
>i witness a flash of horror momentarily wash over her face and govern her manner, as if she just saw some kind of demonic ghost. she dismissed it as quickly as it came, but her instincts were correct. its easy to forget we are animals after all
>as she walks toward the car, i anticipate the shriek that arrives right on schedule
>she trudges toward the picnic site as if approaching the crime scene; a crime scene in which her spirit was separated from her body birthing a demonic ghost
>she deliberately lays down the basket, and scrawled across the top of the picnic basket is “DAMAGED”
>i move my bangs to the side revealing the same word drawn on my forehead…written in the very same pen that defiled their crossword puzzle
what a shite thread
die, op
>>71995393
>”WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?” my father yelled, “DID YOU REALLY NEED TO REMIND US YOU’RE IS DAMAGED BEYOND REPAIR!?”
>”…oh this…this isn’t about me…its a mirror for all those with the fortune to gaze upon me…society is the crutch for those who are truly damaged…and im here to remind humanity of what it forgot when it stopped foraging and decided to take root and bend the nature to its desires for comfort and security…heh…haha…”
>i stifle the laughter welling up in my diaphragm. its not time…not yet
>my mother sits, unresponsive; a deep terror present in her eyes
>”…dearest mother…remember when you asked me if i thought i was god…a very incisive question by the way…well i gave you an honest answer…divinity and humanity are mutually exclusive, and i was certainly no god at the time…i found him though; all it took was the extermination of my own humanity…HA...…HAHA…
>her face still paralyzed with fear, tears begin to stream her cheeks as if her eyes were faucets and some kind of demonic ghost loosened the pipe fittings causing them to leak
>it was becoming harder to contain my laughter, but the time still wasn’t right and i dare not sully my masterpiece with premature celebration
>”well…aren’t you going to open it, I’m beginning to get a little 'antsy'?” i say mischievously.
>”dont open the box, beautiful wife” said my father, but my mothers demonic ghost hands had already started moving toward the picnic basket
>upon witnessing the carnage, my father immediately began to vomit and the terror in my mother’s face turned to emptiness
>>71995469
>”…ANTS!!!…ALL OVER THIS LOVELY LUNCH THAT YOUR MOTHER PREPARED…BUT HOW, I SAW YOU MAINTAINING YOUR ANT FARM RIGHT BEFORE WE LEFT!!!”
>i held my test tube in the air, making sure his eye would catch the shimmer of the glass in the sunlight. inside there were the unmistakable traces of ant nutrient paste and sand
>his eyes widened, then narrowed. his speech immediately became broken and subdued
>”the ant farm…the housework…all a ruse...the chemistry performances…the family bonding…my son…monster…my son…monster…i created him…i created him…”
>he stood up and wandered away from the blanket, purposefully and yet without direction. his mumbling lingering like a faint murmur in the wind as he disappeared down the horizon
>”cheer up mom, you should be happy. you and dad are the proud parents of god as the world will know him…heh…ha…ha..haha….hahaHahaHAHAHAHAHAAHAAHAHAHAAH”
>Jokers mothers name is Martha
Fucking KINO
>>71995507
>two weeks later
>police show up at my door
>they still can’t find my father, and my mother is completely catatonic
>their pretense is giving me an update, but what happened was clear as day and i know they are just fishing for evidence
>”So we still don’t have any leads on your fathers whereabouts,” he says with narrowed eyes, searching for weakness
>”What an awful shame. Have you tried questioning my ants?”
>”Excuse me?” he replies, trying to keep his cool, but i can tell i struck a nerve
>”Did i say ANTS? Im sorry, i meant AUNTS; my fathers sisters. i used to put on chemistry shows for them. curious the effect tragedy has on the mind.”
>”…,” his mouth was agape
>”Maybe my mother will emerge from her self-imposed mental prison. Lord knows I’ve been doing what i can. In fact, i just had a picnic with her a few days prior at the mental hospital, which the nurses opined was just lovely”
>”You sick bastard, those files may be sealed right now, but ill make sure word gets out about what you did. The law’s hands may be tied, but rest assured you’ll be receiving some ‘visits’ in the near future!”
>he sounds hysterical and panic stricken, i succeeded in what i set out to do
>i move my face close to his ear and whisper, “I’m counting on it…"
Anyway, that's the opening. Believe me, don't believe me, just don't blame me if you go to see it and never sleep well again
>>71995293
>Trust me
I stopped way before this
>>71995293
Adaptation has the GOAT opening monologue
>Do I have an original thought in my head? My bald head. Maybe if I were happier, my hair wouldn't be falling out. Life is short. I need to make the most of it. Today is the first day of the rest of my life. I'm a walking cliché. I really need to go to the doctor and have my leg checked. There's something wrong. A bump. The dentist called again. I'm way overdue. If I stop putting things off, I would be happier. All I do is sit on my fat ass. If my ass wasn't fat I would be happier. I wouldn't have to wear these shirts with the tails out all the time. Like that's fooling anyone. Fat ass. I should start jogging again. Five miles a day. Really do it this time. Maybe rock climbing. I need to turn my life around. What do I need to do? I need to fall in love. I need to have a girlfriend. I need to read more, improve myself. What if I learned Russian or something? Or took up an instrument? I could speak Chinese. I'd be the screenwriter who speaks Chinese and plays the oboe. That would be cool. I should get my hair cut short. Stop trying to fool myself and everyone else into thinking I have a full head of hair. How pathetic is that? Just be real. Confident. Isn't that what women are attracted to? Men don't have to be attractive. But that's not true. Especially these days. Almost as much pressure on men as there is on women these days. Why should I be made to feel I have to apologize for my existence? Maybe it's my brain chemistry. Maybe that's what's wrong with me. Bad chemistry. All my problems and anxiety can be reduced to a chemical imbalance or some kind of misfiring synapses. I need to get help for that. But I'll still be ugly though. Nothing's gonna change that.
>>71995293
Good thread
>>71995745
thanks
