I’m writing a script.

SEE ABOVE!?

TMWNW: Chapter Five.

A very grumpy looking Winston sits in a Starbucks, attempting to covertly eavesdrop on the conversations around him while looking important and cultured. He fails at all three, and therefore sticks out like a Walrus at a dinner table.

(He twitched.)

Winston drinks his Double Shot Caramel Macchiato with extra foam and grimaces at the sweetness of the concoction. Realizing that someone may be watching him, Winston quickly attempts to transform this grimace into a yawn, and then (loudly) picks up his GQ magazine. He props it up so that other Starbucks artistes may understand that he is, indeed, reading his magazine. Incidentally, it was GQ magazine that informed Winston that all ‘metro-sexual’ males were drinking Double Shot Caramel Macchiatos. Winston did not understand what ‘metro-sexual’ meant, but the magazine made it sound like a good thing, so Winston has been drinking Double Shot Caramel Macchiatos on a daily basis at Starbucks, looking important and awkward in a Walrus-like way.

(”Screw it,” Winston muttered to himself. He pushed his Double Shot Caramel Macchiato to the far end of the table and glanced around, bored.)

Winston also ensures that his cell phone is prominently displayed on the table; a Blackberry Electronic Organizer that Winston has programmed (in large text) reminders of important meetings he must attend with people like Gregory House, Rachel, Joey and Monica.

(Upon further visual assessment, Winston recognizes a strikingly beautiful young woman, reading a book; Plato’s Republic. She has been here before.)

It is at this point that while Winston discovered how to coordinate his tie with his suit (Winston did not own a suit, nor a tie), he also recognizes a strikingly beautiful woman reading a book. She has been here before, just as Winston has been here so many more times. She always reminds Winston of an angel who constantly descends from Heaven to get coffee. Maybe coffee isn’t so good up there. Bad precipitation for growing, or something.

(Winston shuddered as he got out of his seat to go to the counter.)

Of course, Winston could never talk to this intellectual muse, for she would not be interested in him. Besides, Winston was not wearing his tie, nor his matching suit and slacks; therefore he would lack the charismatic power necessary to get ‘whatever he wanted!’ as the magazine had informed him.

(Winston purchased a Chocolate Chip muffin and a carton of milk from the counter; as he passed the reading beauty, he comically tilted his head sideways to read the title of her book in an obvious fashion. She glanced up at him, bemused.)

Therefore, Winston sat at his table and drank his Double Shot Caramel Macchiato. He enjoyed it.

(”What’s so interesting?” The woman asked.

“Well,” Winston said, grinning, “I think that Keanu Reeves tells that story a lot better.”

An eyebrow goes up. “You mean before or after he learns Kung Fu?” She asked, a hint of a smile flittering across her face.)

Perhaps it is the suit that empowers the individual, Winston thinks. He makes a mental note to purchase a suit, but knows that he won’t, because he has no reason to wear it.

(”Probably when he also turns into Flying Jesus. That’s pure entertainment right there,” Winston winked as he said this, and delicately held the muffin in his mouth to open his milk. He glanced around and noticed that all of the other seats were full. Still lightly gripping the muffin in his jaws, he motioned with it at an empty chair across from the woman. She sighed and acquiesced.

“Sorry,” Winston said, sitting down with his milk and muffin “There’s a very scary individual that’s sitting at my table, reading GQ magazines or something.”)

Perhaps Winston should attend more social functions that require suits. This, in turn would allow him to get a suit, and therefore validate his purchase. Winston acknowledges that this would be an integral part of his suit acquiring plans. This is the fifth time he has come to this conclusion while reading GQ, and he still does not own a suit.

(She glanced over the top of her book at the table Winston had indicated. There was, indeed, a man sitting with a GQ magazine propped up, covering his face. A Blueberry Organizer buzzed on the table beside him, flashing the words “MONICA,” but the man ignored it. A Double Shot Caramel Macchiato was picked up and disappeared behind the magazine.

“Alright,” she smiled at Winston, “Cleverly executed. You can sit here and eat your muffin, but I’m afraid Plato and I won’t be very good company.”

“Mpfh,” Winston nodded, munching on his baked treat. “Whf rr nam?” He mumbled.)

Finishing the last of his Double Shot Caramel Macchiato, Winston rolls up his magazine (very loudly) and pockets it into his coat. His Blueberry Organizer says that he has already missed two appointments with Monica and Gregory House, but he does not seem to be in a particular hurry; they will be waiting for him at 9 o clock and 9:30 on Fox anyways.

(”Sorry, what?” She said. Winston glanced at her sharply through a face full of muffin.

“Whf dydu thai,” He demanded, muffin spraying.

“Er, Sorry, What?” She repeated.

“Ah thuck,” Winston sighed and swallowed his food. “You don’t have a name, do you.”

“Sorry, what?” She said.

“I’ll bet he never even talked to you, dear god.” Winston sighed once more and got up. He patted her on the head and slid his half eaten muffin to her side of the table. “This is pretty god damn depressing,” He muttered, as he meandered out the door.)

I think tonight is when Monica meets that Italian guy and House discovers that the fat guy has lung cancer, Winston thinks to himself, as he walks out the door.

Alone.

The Scene dissolves.

TMWNW: Chapter Four.

I’d highly advise you all to check back and re-read the previous chapters. I’ve been re-organizing, proofreading and slightly changing some of the dialogue. This is mainly to really establish the characters of AuthorWinston and CreatedWInston. Thus, if Part Four makes no sense, please check back. Especially the end of Part III, which has been modified, and a ’sub-chapter’ has been added in. Lucky you! (Or unlucky, depending on your view of my writing).

—

What’s wrong?

The little man glares balefully up into the sky, quivering with rage like Jello in a small scale earthquake.

“You’re not a writer.”

Well, I’m writ-

“Not a question, you dolt. You’ve never written a thing in your life.”

Sor-

“Shut it!”

Silence.

Winston takes three deep breathes.
He does ten pushups.
He slaps himself in the face a few times and then glances up once more.

“So why did you make me.”

I didn’t.

“Existence is causal. You caused me to create myself, therefore you’re my creator. Why did you make me.”

Winston begins to pace.

“You clearly have no imagination, your life is boring, and I’ll bet the strongest opinion you’ve ever held was when you thought that Star Wars was ‘pretty ok.’”

He pauses.

“But. You’re trying, very badly, to write. What gives.”

He scrutinizes the air like a haw-

“Shut up.”

Sorr- rrrr… coffee shop?

“What the hell does that mean?”

Let’s try a coffee shop.

The scene dissolves.

(”What the hell!” Winston cries)