The Shadow Dancer

Jeremy Taylor:
You tied me up, threw me in a lake...

Weldon Parish:
It was a pond!

Jeremy Taylor:
Okay... fine. I'll do it.

Weldon Parish:
Ha, too late!

Jeremy Taylor:
What?

Weldon Parish:
Too late. Life is about seizing the moment... and you let this one slip by.

Jeremy Taylor:
We all fail... the courage is in the trying.

Weldon Parish:
Priests shouldn't lie, Giovanni.

Father Moretti:
There is no lying in poker... only bluffing. And God forgives bluffing.

Father Moretti:
I baptize you in the name of the father, the son, and the Holy Ghost. Amen

Jeremy Taylor:
What are you doing?

Father Moretti:
I'm baptizing you.

Jeremy Taylor:
I'm Jewish.

Father Moretti:
Not anymore.

Weldon Parish:
The sun sets, slowly, igniting the sky in fiery shades of red and orange. In the distance, dark clouds rolled over the horizon, riding the summer winds. Soon they would give way to night. And with it would come the silence that washes over everything.

[first lines]

Jeremy Taylor:
You wanted to see me, sir?

Mr. Benton:
You read The Times this morning?

Mr. Benton:
Avershays Press announced a deal with Irving Gattinger.

Jeremy Taylor:
Gattinger said that he was done with writing.

Mr. Benton:
Yes. He hasn't written a book in 10 years.

Jeremy Taylor:
It's a brilliant move. Based on name recognition alone, it'll be an instant bestseller.

Mr. Benton:
Yes. What do you think about Weldon Parish?

Jeremy Taylor:
Parish is one of my personal favorites. Why, are you thinking of signing him? The man hasn't written anything in 20 years.

Mr. Benton:
All the more reason.

Isabella Parish:
[very pleasantly] Papa hates reporters. He says they are the lowest form of human life.

Jeremy Taylor:
My name is Jeremy Taylor.I'm an editor with Pearce Learner Publishing.

Isabella Parish:
That's even worse. He says that editors don't even qualify as human life.

Jeremy Taylor:
Well, it couldn't hurt to talk to him, right?

Isabella Parish:
No, it could hurt very much. That last editor that came out here, he chased down to the water with axe.

Jeremy Taylor:
He punched me in the nose!

Weldon Parish:
You'll live. I'll drive.

Ian McBain:
One of these days you're going to push me too far, Weldon.

Jeremy Taylor:
Yeah? Well, let's hope you're standing by a cliff when I do.

Weldon Parish:
Typewriters make you think about the words you choose more carefully, because you can't erase them with the push of a button.

Jeremy Taylor:
Look, You don't want to write, I don't want to dance, okay?

Weldon Parish:
So If I would write, you would dance?

Jeremy Taylor:
Maybe.

Weldon Parish:
I don't want to dance with you that bad...

Weldon Parish:
Everybody needs a little lunacy. It's what frees us from the pain of this world. There's a wild man inside you, Jeremy. I can see him in your eyes. Why don't you let him out? You might like him.

Jeremy Taylor:
If he's anything like you, I think I'll keep him lockup, thanks.

Weldon Parish:
[strips off for skinny dipping]

Weldon Parish:
Time is a precious thing, Jeremy. And the years teach much which the days never knew.

Weldon Parish:
Anyone can use words. It's called talking. But writers arrange them in a way so that they take on a beauty in their form. Think of words as colors, and paper as a canvas.

Weldon Parish:
If you were writing a character who got punched in the stomach, how would you describe it?

Jeremy Taylor:
Just use my imagination.

Weldon Parish:
Okay, go ahead, tell me what it would feel like.

Jeremy Taylor:
I'd double over in pain, I'd be gasping for breath.

Weldon Parish:
Mmm. What else?

Jeremy Taylor:
I don't know.

Weldon Parish:
[laughs, punches him hard in the gut]

Jeremy Taylor:
[goes down writhing]

Weldon Parish:
Okay, now. You've got the doubling over and gasping for air part right. But there's also that burning sensation in your gut, the pounding in your head, the weak legs and teary eyes. Oh, notice the snot hanging out of your hose. There's feeling that you're never gonna breathe again, and then... your lungs fill with cool fresh air. That's experience.

[last lines]

Old Lady:
Are your sure this is God's wants?

Father Moretti:
Si, mama. I'm sure He wants us to love each other. [sets the little bird free]