THE SECTARIAN: The story of a lovable, religious bigot CHAPTERS/SCENES I - SOMETHING

 

THE SECTARIAN:

The story of a lovable, religious bigot

by 

Ssal Nogard

  

                                                              

FADE IN

ABORTION PROTEST

EXT. ABORTION CLINIC   DAY

An abortion protest is being held outside an abortion clinic.  There is so much commotion it is difficult to read the signs that the protesters are waving.  Police are pulling some protesters away and arresting them, because they are getting too close to clients and employees of the clinic.  An ASIAN FEMALE is being escorted further away from the safety zone afforded its employees and clients entering and leaving the clinic.  She retreats as ordered but yelling at the same time.  In her fervor, she advances too close to the clinic and the police begin to arrest her.

NARRATOR (V.O.)

Does this look like a face of a person who should be arrested?  What is she doing?

Two cops are carrying the Asian female away from an abortion protest.  The scene freezes as the narrator interrupts the action.

NARRATOR (V.O.)

(continuing)

Stop right there.

The action stops.

NARRATOR (V.O.)

(continuing)

No, back a little.

The scene rewinds a little.

NARRATOR (V.O.)

(continuing)

There.

The scene stops again.

NARRATOR (V.O.)

(continuing)

Now.  Take a close look at that face.

(pause) 

Can you tell from the face what she's doing there?  Well, from the signs and the yelling and the literal dragging away of bodies, you can tell she's a protester.  But what is she, and all the others, screaming and kicking and protesting?   

The action begins again and our Asian female continues screaming.

ASIAN FEMALE

Get your sinful hands off of me, you-- 

NARRATOR (V.O.)

Maybe you can tell by her face.  If she were black, for instance, one might assume that this was a civil rights protest.  Let's try, for a moment, to just figure what she is protesting by the kind of face she has.  What kind of a face does that look like to you?

The Asian female's face is contorted into a very unattractive expression of hollering and screaming.  But nothing can be heard but the Narrator's voice.

NARRATOR (V.O.)

(continuing)

Okay, let's just say it is a very determined face.  Anything else?

The Asian female clutches her floppy Sunday hat to keep it  from falling off during all the tussling. 

NARRATOR (V.O.)

(continuing)

She's wearing an Easter hat.  And gloves.  In the summer.

The Asian female is yelling vigorously and with conviction, waving her gloved hands and holding on to her wide-brimmed hat. 

NARRATOR (V.O.)

(continuing)

She seems to really believe in what she's protesting. 

The Asian female grabs at a fallen sign on the sidewalk.  It reads "Protect the Unborn."

NARRATOR (V.O.)

(continuing)

Ah, she must be protesting at an abortion clinic, or outside a courthouse where another abortion case is about to be decided.  But it doesn't look like a courthouse.

The Asian female waves the sign furiously as the cops try to handcuff her.

NARRATOR (V.O.)

(continuing)

But which side is she protesting?  The right to life or the right to choice?  Is she against choice or against life?  By the looks of her, I mean, being Asian and all, and this being California...oops, but there I go, stereotyping, assuming that because she's a California Asian, she must be a liberal progressive.  Hmm, I suppose that's why I warned you to look closely. 

Our Asian female is yelling, being dragged away.  She has dropped the sign she was waving.  A policeman holds her by each of her arms.

NARRATOR (V.O.)

(continuing)

That wouldn't be--

The Asian female is screaming in a Southern Accent. 

ASIAN FEMALE

Let go of me, you purveyors of evil.  Protect the unborn!  You big bully!  You wouldn't touch me if you didn't have  that badge on!  Well, I got news for you, buddy!  The good Lord is the only true authority and the likes of you will tremble before him when you stand judgment for wielding your unscrupulous power to perpetuate the slaughter of the unbo-orn! 

While the Asian female is ranting, she drops to her knees, becoming a deadweight, making it difficult for the policemen to drag her away.

ASIAN FEMALE

(continuing)

That's it!  Go ahead and drag a defender of the Lord Almighty away.  We shall overcome!  We shall

overco-ome! 

She continues alternating between struggling and going limp in the policemens' grasp. 

NARRATOR (V.O.)

--that wouldn't be a terrible Southern accent, would it?  As it so happens, it would. 

(resigned)

Be a terrible Southern accent.

But what would an Asian female in Southern California be doing with a mangled southern accent?  Is she pretending?  A poser, perhaps.  No, dear friends, the accent is real.  Or as her friends used to say, terrifically real.  Most everything about this girl was real.  Maybe not real real, but let's step back a little to explain what we mean. 

FLASHBACK: AUNT TATEM IS SICK.

INT. KITCHEN   DAY

NARRATOR (V.O.)

My parents were flower children.  It didn't matter if they were at Woodstock or not, or if they were even alive at the time, they wouldn't have cared.  As is always the case with real flower children, they were flower children no matter what, even when they were living in Mississippi.

A man and a woman are in the kitchen.  They are preparing dinner. 

NARRATOR (V.O.)

(continuing)

How they came to live with Aunt Tatem was unintended, and its effect on the likes of my parents were as well.

The woman is searching for something in the cupboards while the man is chopping vegetables. 

MOTHER

That was Aunt T.

FATHER

What did she want?

MOTHER

(sighing) 

Well, you know she hasn't been doing well. 

Mother goes to the stove and stirs a pot that is simmering.

FATHER

She's going on seventy, isn't she?  Even she didn't expect to last this long.

MOTHER

Well, it's something else.  Throat Cancer. 

FATHER

(quietly)

Whistles, so the tobacco finally worked its poison, huh. 

MOTHER

Yes. 

(pause) 

And...

FATHER

And?

MOTHER

(keeping her eyes on the pot)

And she wants us to come live with her.

FATHER

(surprised)

What?  I thought she never wanted to see you again.  Unless you repented your ways. 

(cannot help chuckling)

MOTHER

Well, she's dying, Brent, what is she going to do?

(pause) 

What are we going to do...

FATHER

Oh, no.  I love her as much as, well, as I can, but I'm not going to run down to some god-forsaken town.

MOTHER

The people go to church every Sunday.  And some more.

FATHER

Okay, a god-choked town where all they do is stuff god down your throat, tout family values, and have more divorces and out of wedlock children than anywhere else in the country. 

MOTHER

She's all alone. 

FATHER

(sighs, puts the knife down)

Well, I guess I always wanted to have god around all the time. 

(smiles, kisses, and embraces Mother reassuringly)

MOVING TO AUNT TATEM'S IN MISSISSIPPI

EXT. CAR   DAY

NARRATOR (V.O.)

My parents were fond believers that people were fundamentally good at heart and could be changed.  So were the people they lived among.  My parents thought this would give them an unasked for chance to spread the nirvana.  So did the people they moved in upon.  They called it salvation.  Was there a difference?  To my parents, no.  To the people of that small town?  Yes.  Most definitely, yes.  The difference, to them, meant the difference between salvation and a fiery afterlife.

EXT. SMALL HOUSE   DAY

Mother and Father have arrived at Aunt Tatem's house.  They start unpacking the car and go into the house.

INT. AUNT TATEM'S HOUSE   DAY

Aunt Tatem lies on a bed as Mother comes in with an armful of books and kisses her.  Mother puts the books on a table in front of Aunt Tatem.

MOTHER

Aunt Tatem.  You're looking gorgeous. 

AUNT TATEM

Where's that hunk of a husband of yours? 

MOTHER

He's unpacking the truck. 

AUNT

Well, why do you think I invited you?  Get him in here, Brenda.

Aunt Tatem looks dubiously at the books on Buddhist meditation and clears her cancer-ridden throat. 

AUNT TATEM

You know, you should be careful about reading this stuff.  And mind you don't practice it alone. 

VIOLET

Why, Aunt T.?

AUNT TATEM

Because when you "clear your mind of all earthly worries", you let the devil slip in.

VIOLET

I'll be careful to ask who's at the door first. 

AUNT TATEM

Those who laugh are always the first to be taken in by Mestopheles.

VIOLET

Don't you think he'd be too busy to bother?

AUNT TATEM

The devil is interested in everybody.

VIOLET

So he's like god, then.

AUNT TATEM

What in the devil's name are you talking about?

VIOLET

In the good lord's name, Auntie.  A good shepherd never leaves even one of his flock behind, either, right?

AUNT TATEM

Don't blaspheme, Violet. 

VIOLET

I’m just noting the differences, Aunt T. 

AUNT TATEM

Notice that I’m out of tea.  Remember I like it strong, honey, not sugar.

VIOLET

Yes, dear. 

AUNT TATEM

Dying woman can't get a decent cup of tea around her own home. 

Mother kisses her on the head and takes the teacup to the kitchen to steep some more tea.

AUNT TATEM

I talked to Dan.  He's drawing up the papers so's you and Brent can stay here after I’m gone. 

VIOLET

I don't think we'll be staying, dearest. 

AUNT TATEM

It'll do you good.  Get all that nonsense you get from living by too much surf.  Sun's gone to your head.  You should wear a hat you know.  Get brain fever, mark my words. 

TIME TO GO TO CHURCH

EXT.  AUNT TATEM'S HOUSE   DAY

NARRATOR (V.O)

Things didn't work out exactly the way anyone expected.  My Aunt went into remission several times, which is to say, she never really got better.

Aunt Tatem, dressed for church in hat and gloves, knocks on Brent and Brenda's bedroom door.  No answer.  She opens the door and walks in.  Brent and Brenda are sleeping.  The room is dark.

NARRATOR (V.O)

(continuing)

Even though, needless to say, my parents were always the center of attention, as they liked to put it, or as their neighbors put it, a thorn in the side of their peaceful, loving town, You would think my Aunt would not tolerate them.  However, she had a thing for trying to convert infidels. 

Aunt Tatem walks to the window.

AUNT TATEM

Violet, it's time for church.

VIOLET

(muffled voice)

Not going, Aunt. 

Aunt Tatem opens the shades.

BRENT

(wakes up)

What the--?

AUNT TATEM

It's Sunday, time to worship and give thanks to the Lord for everything he's given and done for us during the past week. 

VIOLET

(rolling over onto her husband)

We did that at the beginning of the week, Auntie, we do it everyday. 

AUNT TATEM

But you must do it in the house of the Lord.  How else will he hear you?

VIOLET

Auntie, close the shades.  God hears us wherever we are, at least that's what our neighbors were always complaining about

(giggling)

and if place mattered, I think open air thanks reaches him better.  That's how we do it.  Or at least we used to, until we got caught. 

Now good night.

AUNT TATEM

(sighs)

I'll pray an extra Hail Mary for you both.

BRENT

Amen. 

Aunt Tatem leaves the bedroom.

NARRATOR (V.O.)

My parents literally wore flowers in their hair for many years, my dad, too.

Brent is reading on the porch.  A basket of freshly cut flowers is at Violet's feet.  She finishes making a wreath of flowers and places it on Brent's head. 

NARRATOR (V.O.)

(continuing)

This bothered many of the town folk, but none of them said anything, as my Dad was six-foot-four and two hundred twenty pounds.  It didn't bother my parents; they seemed to get their equilibrium from other people's disequilibria, particularly when they were the source of that discomfort. 

INT. ROOM IN AUNT TATEM'S HOUSE   DAY

Violet and Brent are building a room into a nursery. 

NARRATOR (V.O.)

(continuing)

How did I know all this since I wasn't even born yet?  The same way that I knew that my sister wasn't exactly the type of child my parents wanted.  Or so I had thought at the time.  My older sister was unexpected.  No, my parents wanted children.  Only they had wanted another one.  You see, the doctor had told my mother that she could not have children, and so my parents decided to adopt.  They had lined up an orphan from Nigeria. 

In short, things get around.  In a small town, each member feels that it is his individual duty to update a person on all the facts that, if known to the person, would make him uncomfortable. 

ADOPT AN AFRICAN?

INT.  AUNT TATEM'S HOUSE   DAY

A NEIGHBOR has come to visit.  She has brought a blueberry pie, which she places on the dining room table.  Mother walks to the room where she had been making up the nursery and motions the Neighbor to follow.  The nursery is unfinished.

MOTHER

I'm making up the nursery.  What do you think of the mobile?  The mobile is made of people from different parts of the world in ethnic dress.

The Neighbor frowns at it. 

MOTHER

We're going to teach him languages early; the mobile hums out different words in French, Spanish, and Latin. 

The Neighbor does not comment but instead blurts out:

NEIGHBOR

(worried)

Are you sure it won't bring yellow fever to the town?

Violet holds up the wallpaper.  

VIOLET

How do you like the color?  It's a neutral beige pink. 

NEIGHBOR

Are you getting a girl?

VIOLET

He (emphasis) won't.  He'll be vaccinated and checked for everything before the immigration officials will allow him in.

NEIGHBOR

How do you know what kind of family he comes from?

VIOLET

We don't.  But it's pretty safe to say that his parents were killed in the recent uprising.  Very probably they were poor and loved their son very much. 

Violet leaves the wallpaper and beings fussing with the drapes. 

NEIGHBOR

What's wrong with adopting an American child?  We've plenty of orphans here who need parents.

VIOLET

We thought about that.  Reaching out halfway across the world, there's just something so connecting, uniting in it.  As if we're all part of the same world, we're all god's children.

I can't get them to drape right.  See?

Violet holds the curtain fabric up for the Neighbor to inspect.

NEIGHBOR

Should put some starch in them.  Indeed we are, but there's no harm in helping our closer brothers and sisters.

Violet inspects the curtain fabric.

VIOLET

I'm not interested in adopting a white child.  There's a snag running through this.  Didn't see it before. 

NEIGHBOR

I can see that.  What's wrong with adopting a white child?  Aren't they as good as black children?

VIOLET

Of course they are. 

NEIGHBOR

Even better for white parents. 

VIOLET

If that's your defining quality for humans. 

NEIGHBOR

It's natural.  It comes first because that's what people see. 

VIOLET

I know.  I wish people could walk inside out, with their intestines and liver and kidneys hanging out.  That way you could see what your really getting.  An alcoholic, a smoker.  Defining children this way.

NEIGHBOR

(stiffly)

You know, we're not all bigots in the South.

VIOLET

We're not all heathens that are going to hell in California.

NEIGHBOR

That's what you think.  That's where you liberals go wrong.  God struck down Gomorrah once.  He'll do it again.

VIOLET

I'm glad it's not a symmetrical idea.

NEIGHBOR

What isn't?

VIOLET

I'm glad I can't say the same for you.  That some of your ideas are wrong. 

NEIGHBOR

(huffy)

Of course not. 

The neighbor picks up a blanket.

NEIGHBOR

You know, my mother used mohair blankets.  It's soft and light enough for the summer. 

VIOLET

Doesn't the hair cause allergies? 

NEIGHBOR

Not if you get a good weave.  I'll see if I can dig up my baby blanket.  I put it away after Samuel went to college.

VIOLET

I'd appreciate it, Mrs. Weaver.

ADOPTING AN ASIAN, MY LITTLE BANANA

INT. ROOM   DAY

NARRATOR (V.O.)

When my sister came, the townsfolk felt that god had made them a compromise, and were eager, at the start, to accept my sister.  The black son that my parents wanted fell through.  My dad, especially, had wanted to train a little football hero, never having been really talented himself, even at touch football.  My mother, not wanting a boy, really was glad to have a girl first. 

Father and Mother take turns holding their little Asian girl.

VIOLET

Do we really want to change her name? 

BRENT

She's going to stick out bad enough as it is.

VIOLET

But, can't we name her something more normal?

BRENT

Luzy-Ann is normal, here at least.

VIOLET

I'll call her "Luz".

BAPTISM

INT. CHURCH   MORNING  

It is LUZY-ANN's baptism.  The priest gently wets her head with holy water.  After the priest blesses the baby, sings the cross, Aunt Tatem holds her. 

PRIEST

In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.

AUNT TATEM

(whispers)

You will have a great cross to bear.  But I will share your burden. 

A choir is singing a hymn.

CHOIR

(singing)

"And let all who have suffered, let them come to the Lord, without sorrow, without strife..."

NARRATOR (V.O.)

But it was my aunt who seemed to know what it really meant for a child such as my sister to be raised in a place such as our small town.  It was because she was to be part of the cause and the problem, that she knew so well.