The first of Three NuErotic Tales
© All Rights Reserved
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Main Characters
Arthur Baynebridge - A poverty stricken no hoper surviving day to day off his wits. He lives a banal existence masking a mysterious past. He is living day to day, only finding solace in alcohol and other illicit substances.
Luke D'Angelo - Charismatic devious TV show host. A very high profile extrovert that exudes hype and oozes charm. Has a soft powerful voice and is full of an animal magnetism that makes him irresistibly attractive to women.
Carmella Attenzione - Luke's voluptuous Assistant.
Alexia - The mysterious chauffer.
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Act One - Home Sweet Home
Location: In an aging block of flats footsteps echo up a dimly lit concrete stairwell toward a dark dingy apartment. A man in a heavy overcoat stumbles upwards. He is fumbling in his overcoat pocket for a key.
As he approaches his apartment's door he finally finds his key. Before entering he pauses for a moment and reaches into another of his overcoat pockets. He pulls out a crumpled packet of cigarettes.
Arthur: Looking closely at the crumpled cardboard box. "Oh shit!"
He flips the lid open and pulls out one of the contorted cigarettes. With his free hand he reaches back into the same overcoat pocket and pulls out a cigarette lighter.
He reaches up with the lighter in his hand and lights his cigarette by drawing deeply. He releases the grey smoke into the cold late night darkness.
He then places the cigarette lighter back into his pocket. Now he reaches for the apartment's deadlock with the key in his hand.
In his first attempt the key is deflected as it scrapes against the metal on the deadlock. His second attempt the key bounces off the deadlock. His third attempt the key awkwardly penetrates the lock.
He turns it slowly and it clunks and clicks. The lock eventually gives way and allows the heavy set door to open.
He enters barely noticing the dank odour of the mouldy old carpet. The entrance to the two room apartment is cluttered with clothes, bags and various containers and boxes. The mostly empty vessels and scant wall decorations hint at a previous illustrious existence.
The man stands wavering momentarily from exhaustion then he moves cautiously negotiating around the confusion. He moves toward an old red velour couch. He plonks himself on the couch and draws deeply on the half consumed cigarette.
He looks down beside him searching for something. He can't see it. With his free hand he reaches between the couches old stained cushions.
He still can't feel what he's looking for.
His eyes start to squint from tiredness as he begins to scan the apartment. At the other side of the cramped main room he sees what he's after on the old timber laminate breakfast bar.
Next to an unwashed dinner plate and half full glass of beer is the TV remote control.
Slowly he raises himself and moves toward the cramped kitchenette.
As he approaches the bar he ignores the build up of dishes in the single tub sink. There must be at least three days worth as the food is firmly encrusted on the dishes and pots that sit at the bottom of the pile.
He finishes his cigarette as he reaches the remote control. He takes one last deep draw and releases the noxious fumes into the cool humid atmosphere.
He starts his return trip to the couch holding the control in his hand. Then he detours to the old dilapidated fridge that is humming in the corner of the kitchen. On top is a small empty brown bottle that he proceeds to push his smouldering cigarette butt into.
Then he opens the fridge door and reaches in without looking.
Jackpot! He pulls out another impish brown bottle. This time it's full and unopened.
He struggles with sweaty hands and twists the cap against the rotation of the bottle. Eventually the cap gives way and he takes a crude swig from the elfish bottle.
He burps loudly as the amber liquid battles for space in his gullet.
Arthur: "Whoah shit!"
This time he lets out a smaller burp and his stomach settles a little more.
His head starts to spin. He's not going to make it to the couch. A wave of lethargy suddenly overwhelms Arthur.
The last thing he remembers is his bedroom door getting closer and then in the semi darkness his face hitting the cool cotton polyester blend of his pillow's cover.
Then the bright incessant flashing lights of the nearby neon skyscrapers commence their hypnotic penetration of the flimsy curtains that adorn the small bedroom window.
Act Two - Late Night TV
The invasive neon lights and late night traffic noises sustain an unrelenting attack on Arthur's rest. His eyes spring wide open. The cocktail of caffeine, alcohol, nicotine, salt and fat wasn't having its usual dampening effect.
It was time for the only sure cure for insomnia. Late night TV.
He gingerly rises taking the remote control that rests by his face next to the pillow. On the side table he feels for and picks up the crumpled cigarette packet. He takes another twisted cigarette and places it in his mouth. In the burst of coloured light he pauses to see if the lighter is within sight. No such luck.
He arrives at the dank couch and he remembers that lighter is in a pocket of his overcoat that is hung over the armrest. He then lights his cigarette and then negotiates a comfortable position with his head nestled against the armrest and his legs raised onto the far side of the couch.
He presses the red button on the remote control that is being directed clumsily at the small black box in the corner of the room.
The well worn black plastic relic crackles and hisses into life. A screen full of very loud static welcomes him. The green l-e-d indicator bar reduces its indications simultaneously as the volume decreases.
A green number two then appears on the top right hand side of the screen and a fuzzy image appears. It's not very clear but he can make out the perfect abdominal features exuding energy. The Abswing endorsement music is only barely audible under the static hiss.
Arthur: "Fuck that's too much exercise for me at this hour."
The number three appears at the top right hand side of the screen. The blurry image is in black and white. It is an old movie, a classic that takes too much concentration to watch. The number four then appears on the top right hand side of the screen.
This channel is just static.
Number five normally doesn't get a clear picture at all. Arthur wasn't even sure that it had been tuned to a channel. So he tried to pass it quickly.
In the instant that the number five appears on the screen an image flickers but the speed that Arthur changes channel upwards and the static makes it too hard to see. From what he could make out it resembles an ad for a phone sex line. He could make out a gorgeous woman saying something. However Arthur did not recognise this particular ad. A telephone number also briefly appears in the instantaneous vision.
At the number six there is too much static in the image. He clicks back down.
Arthur: "That's unusual."
The image flickers again however it remains too fuzzy to make out. Arthur loses patience and flicks up to the next available channel. The image is still only static. He goes up another channel. More static. He keeps clicking upwards through the channels until he is back at number one.
Number one has now also gone completely out of tune. Arthur looks over at the dog-eared aerial that rests precariously next to the television set. Beside the aerial is his open bedroom door that aligns with his small bedroom window.
The scene reveals the culprit to the interrupted TV viewing. The monstrous city skyscrapers that interfere with his ability to get a clear signal lurk in the background smugly flaunting their entrancing flashing neon lights.
Arthur: Whispering under his breath. "Fuck I hate those buildings."
Out of habit he continues to climb through the channels.
He gets to number five and a clear image briefly flickers through the static.
Arthur: "Shit."
Arthur waits on this channel for a few seconds. The image of a seductive woman flickers momentarily but the audio is not discernable.
Arthur: "That's weird."
He is curious as this channel has never had a picture on it before.
