Frogtown was written in New York City, when I lived at the infamous 177 Bleecker Street. Perhaps the script reflected my surroundings, but it turned out to be the most inventive leap of imagination I've ever experienced: the movie threaded itself into a tight climax which I had no idea was coming even as I typed the words. The script is included in a book called "ANXY SKRBLY" which looks for its publisher as I write this now. The excerpt from Frogtown below is typical f the style and anti-screenplay format I pursued in New York. The script is partially a protest against the archaic and dumbed-down architecture of screenplays, in their millions upon millions.

 

EXT. Outside Woodleigh Hotel.  Monday, 10:15 pm

Juju Cool Moon catches up with Natasha Blackshear as she walks slowly toward the taxi stand outside the Sheraton. She is in a dress cut at the knee, topped with a sharply-cut, silk jacket. Except for her arrhythmic speech and slight body spasms, she seems no more suspicious than the comfortable wife or well-kept girlfriend of one of the chemicals executives in Betaville for the convention on plastic and silicon. But as she talks, Natasha Blackshear becomes steadily more unsteady.

JUJU COOL MOON
I think you left a man in dire straits back there, Natasha.

NATASHA BLACKSHEAR
Is he looking for this?

She holds up the doorkey to Mr. Wilkens’ room in the Sheraton. She drops the keychain, and both she and Cool Moon watch the key fall through a grate toward the underground transport system. They both laugh.

JUJU COOL MOON
Are you a Geisha Girl, Miss Blackshear?

NATASHA BLACKSHEAR
Heavens, no. That’s illegal. (Pause)  Am I under investigation?

JUJU COOL MOON
Your roommate Monica was a Geisha Girl.

NATASHA BLACKSHEAR
I thought she was a writer. Maybe Monica was doing some sort of undercover journalism thing.

JUJU COOL MOON
Are you doing some sort of undercover journalism thing?

NATASHA BLACKSHEAR
I’m a writer, too —

JUJU COOL MOON
And you were doing some night school homework in room three oh two with a naked man in handcuffs?

NATASHA BLACKSHEAR
Mr. Wilson is very well read –

JUJU COOL MOON
His name is Wilkens. I’d say you have some money in your handbag with his DNA on them, and I’d say I could take you in for being a Geisha Girl right now, if I was after a sex bust, but I’m after narcotics, Natasha, and I want to know how your roommate and her client OD’d on synthetic San Francisco zero zero nine. (Pause)  I’m totally not interested in the Geisha Girl trade.

NATASHA BLACKSHEAR
Can I ask you a personal question, Detective?

JUJU COOL MOON
Shoot.

NATASHA BLACKSHEAR
Do you ever feel so lonely that you’re forced into making a mistake? The wrong person? The wrong job, the wrong family?

JUJU COOL MOON
No.

The Woodleigh Hotel looms as the couple walk in the humid night. Red and green lights blink patiently overhead, demarcating telecommunications systems as well as helicopter flight paths. Betaville’s optimal optical energy electrifies the night’s wet air.

NATASHA BLACKSHEAR
I’m a big girl. I’ve had my outer shell ripped off. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings. (Pause)  On the contrary. My heart isn’t pumping just because I’m alive. My heart pumps because it feels pain.

JUJU COOL MOON
You’re never happy, Natasha?

NATASHA BLACKSHEAR
A happy heart puts a smile on my lips. (Pause)  That’s how you see inside a woman’s heart, you know. Just look at her lips.

JUJU COOL MOON
And how do you tell what’s going on in her head?

NATASHA BLACKSHEAR
You close your eyes, and you listen to what she’s saying.

JUJU COOL MOON
I’m going to close my eyes and ask you a question, Natasha. How does it feel to take off your clothes and sit in a man’s lap?

NATASHA BLACKSHEAR
From the time you’re nine until you’re about thirty, it’s great. You’d do it for free.

JUJU COOL MOON
And what happens at thirty?

NATASHA BLACKSHEAR
(Long pause)  You spend a lot of time wondering why you never learned to play the cello. (She closes her eyes)  You didn’t close your eyes, Detective.
 

Natasha Blackshear faints suddenly and pitches forward against Juju Cool Moon before she slides along his body toward the floor. Cool Moon catches her and begins speaking into his cellphone. The music blaring from a loudspeaker not far away is by Pizzicato 5, from their album “Goodbye to the End of the World,” and is a mix of American cheerleading chants, Japanese television advertisements, ‘60’s organ and tambourine, and Rave beat. Blackshear has passed out, and Juju Cool Moon places his ear against her mouth to check her breathing. From his reaction and the way he quickly makes a call on his cell, it is apparent that Natasha is not breathing.

Cool Moon rubs her arm gently and feels the temperature of her forehead. Paramedics arrive and immediately cover her face with an oxygen mask as they withdraw blood. Cool Moon gives the paramedics instructions, and they appear to test Blackshear’s blood for a single substance which lights an LED panel with the word “positive” in neon pink. The San Francisco synthetic zero zero nine is present.

She is given another shot and loaded into an ambulance, where Cool Moon rides with her to the hospital. He looks through her purse but finds nothing of interest.

Suddenly, Cool Moon demands that the ambulance stop. He clambers out, and runs into oncoming traffic to stop passing cars. From the first car that stops, Cool Moon opens the driver’s door and firmly but politely pulls out the driver. He slips into the driver’s seat and then pushes a middle-aged woman from the passenger side out into the street. She stumbles, and Cool Moon asks her loudly if she is okay; she nods, frightened but unhurt, and Cool Moon waves an apology before screeching into a U-turn and driving back toward the Woodleigh Hotel.

Cool Moon leaves the commandeered car in the pull-through of the hotel, and races through the lobby and into the stairwell to the first floor, where he finds the naked Mr. Wilkens, prone and unmoving behind two palm trees, his hands still cuffed. Cool Moon shouts into his cellphone again, watched by a middle-aged pair of conventioneers who stand in the hallway of the first floor of the Woodleigh in awe-struck amazement.

In the ambulance, meanwhile, Blackshear says nothing and makes no movement, even as she is loaded out and into the hospital emergency room.

Throughout these images, the only audible sound is the frenetic energy of Pizzicato 5’s cheesy “la-la-la-la-la-la-la-laaa” sung over cymbals and tubular bells, set to a remorseless rave beat.