Pretty soon here I'll be presenting the second installment of a TV script I wrote in college. Consult the title above if you're unsure of which show it was. Read the words below as long as you're not likely to cuss me out for misplacing (or losing?) the pages (or floppy disk?) that includes the latter half of the episode I conceived when I was 21. If you're the optimistic type, know that I'm pretty obsessive about saving all my creative crap, and so another tortuous round of digging through desk drawers just might yield the missing pieces.
ACT TWO
FADE IN:
EXT. SIMPSONS' HOUSE – MORNING
INT. BEDROOM
Homer is still passed out on the carpet with his pants around his ankles. He drools and fidgets, in the throes of a bad dream.
HOMER'S DREAM
Hundreds of TEENAGERS in bell-bottoms are gathered at a fair. A banner by the entrance reads “Class of '74 Carnival.” The viewpoint PANS past a Ferris wheel and a dunk tank to focus on the entrance of a funhouse, where JOHN TRAVOLTA pleads with OLIVIA NEWTON JOHN. Their attire matches what they wore in the climax of Grease.
TRAVOLTA: Aw, jeez! What do I gotta do to prove I'm crazy about you? Should I improvise a big song and dance number?
INT. BEDROOM
In response to the question posed in his dream, Homer winces and shakes his head.
HOMER: (MOANS) Nooooooo...
HOMER'S DREAM
A lone dark cloud appears in the sky above Travolta. The cloud unleashes a bolt of lightning, incinerates him, and then vanishes.
INT. BEDROOM
Sleeping Homer smiles with relief.
HOMER'S DREAM
Beside the funhouse, TEENAGE Homer stands next in line for a booth marked “KISSES: ONE DOLLAR.” A PRETTY GIRL poses behind the counter.
TEENAGE HOMER: (TO SELF) Oh baby, this is going to be the best dollar I ever spent.
Repulsed by the sight of Homer, the pretty girl hangs a sign that reads “Closed for Repairs.” She rummages through her purse for makeup and a hand-mirror and then slowly applies lipstick. Homer is dejected.
TEENAGE HOMER: (HANGS HEAD) Oh...
He walks away.
The viewpoint PANS to a nearby booth marked “Premarital Sex: Fifty Cents.” Clad in a skimpy skirt, TEENAGE MARGE poses behind the counter. At the front of the very long line, TEENAGE LENNY digs into his pockets.
TEENAGE LENNY: Aw, nuts. All I got is a quarter.
TEENAGE MARGE: Eh. No biggie. I'll just start you a tab.
She grabs Lenny's hand and ushers him into a rickety and unromantic shack.
INT. BEDROOM
Homer returns to consciousness in a wild and terrified fit. Sticky with sweat, he clutches the two hairs atop his head.
HOMER: (BLOOD-CURDLING SCREAM)
INT. SIMPSONS' KITCHEN – MOMENTS LATER
Marge tends to dishes in the sink, her sullen eyes fixed on a plate she scrubs with numb repetitions. Homer barges up to her, berating and pleading.
HOMER: How could you, Marge?
MARGE: Homer—
HOMER: Homer nothing! We've been married since Lisa was a bun in your oven...
MARGE: Actually, I was pregnant with Bart.
HOMER: Don't interrupt me when I'm too mad to fuss over details! All these years, you've lied to me.
MARGE: Lied to you? You never asked!
HOMER: Yeah? Well, I've never asked my dad if he loves me, but that doesn't mean I'm not dying to know.
Having overheard, GRAMPA enters the kitchen, feeling sentimental.
GRAMPA: Son, of course I--
HOMER: Put a sock in it, old man.
GRAMPA: (CHIPPER) Well, that's a load off. See you at Thanksgiving.
He leaves.
HOMER: Who was he? Who was your first?
MARGE: Oh, Homey, it was so long ago. What does it matter?
HOMER: It matter because the only pure thing in my life has been dragged through the mud.
MARGE: Dragged through the-- (beat) I'm the exact same person--
HOMER: It matters because I can't stand the thought of another man's hands running through your puffy blue hair.
MARGE: (EMBARASSED) Homer, please. Don't be so vulgar. And after all, it was the '70s.
Homer slaps his forehead and points to the tall perm atop Marge's head.
HOMER: I meant that hair!
Having sunk to a new horror of embarrassment, Marge peers at the kitchen tiles.
MARGE: (beat) Oh.
HOMER: Who was he?
MARGE: (SIGHS) I met him when we were juniors in high school. He was kind of a fanatic about Elton John and Queen, so he dubbed himself “Glam Rock Stu.”
HOMER: (SKEPTICAL) “Glam Rock Stu?”
MARGE: Right. Only, ever since he got caught up in the Saturday Night Fever fever, he changed the first part to “Disco.”
HOMER: So slept with a guy named “Disco Glam Rock”? What the hell kind of a name is that?
MARGE: No, no. You've got first part/ last part confusion. See, when the second type of music became more popular than the first type...
HOMER: Aw, would you please just tell me the guy's name, Marge?
MARGE: Disco Stu! That's what he calls himself now. The sleazy weirdo with the dead fish in his platform shoes! I slept with him. He tricked me into loving him and I've never stopped regretting it. There. Are you happy now?!
HOMER: (SINISTER) Delighted.
He storms out of the room, past his children. Seated at the kitchen table, Maggie is glum and Lisa is aghast, but Bart finishes the last of his orange juice and sets the glass down, reposed and detached.
BART: (BELCHES) Mom. Refill!
NEXT SCENE(s)...Overcome with jealousy, Homer tracks down Disco Stu-- whom, I seem to recall, waits tables at Planet Hype and lives at the same apartment complex as Milhouse's dad. Krusty returns to the storyline. Homer blackmails him into his scheme of vengeance that blunders but leads to catharsis.
Let the search resume. Sigh.
NICK: Such a pain in the ass, this writing business.
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