GMECH:(to
cam) So you selected dancing ey? (cheeky grin) Righto.
She
saunters over the jukebox, calling to Fly as she goes.
GMECH:
Hey Fly. They want dancing!
Fly's
legs are up on Gmech's desk in her office, she's reading a
mag.
FLY:
(chuckles to herself) Course they do.
Gmech
selects a tune on the duke box** if there's a way for
the user to dictate what tune this is that'd be ideal.
Gmech
dims the lights in the garage and positions herself centre
stage like some kind of interpretive dancer at an annual concert.
The
music starts, and off she goes. Dancing her little tush off
in whatever manner she feels.
Fly
bops over and joins her, dancing minimalistically in her uber
cool way.
Cut
to: down the street Bruce can be seen running with all his
might toward the garage on the top of the hill. He's being
drawn by the music in the distance. He slows to a stop, too
puffed to continue, man he's got a long way to go.
Inside
the garage, in the sparse light, with mozzies and other annoying
insects headbutting the light bulb our two girls dance away.
Outside
Bruce is forcing himself with everything he's got to clamber
up the hill closer to the music. But he's out of breath, wheezing
like an asthmatic.
The
girls dance together, enjoying the time they're having.
Bruce
crawls on his hands and knees to the door, he gets there and
looks in, trying to appear as composed as a twelve year old
can when he's on his hands and knees!
BRUCE:
Hey so are we dancing?
The
girls look over... just as the song finishes.
GMECH:
I think we're done.
BRUCE:
Ugh. He collapses.
Gmech
flicks the light switch back on to full again and returns
to the bury herself under the bonnet of a car.
Fly
returns to the office and resumes her feet up position reading
a magazine.
BRUCE:
Not fair.
FLY:
Oh I think it is.
GMECH:
Yep. Fair.
BRUCE
hasn't move. He's still slumped on the ground. Unable to move.
He blinks. Not happy.
End.
