EAT CAFE:

THE PILOT

A teleplay by Clark Humphrey

4/9/95

CAST (15):

• PETE SHRIEVE
• PAULA
• EILEEN SHRIEVE
• ANDREA BOWLES
• REXXX
• IVAN
• KEVIN
• SYLVIA HARRISON
• STOKER MCGEE
• TOMMY BROGAN
• OLD GEEZER #1
• OLD GEEZER #2
• BAND SINGER
• BAND BASSIST
• BAND DRUMMER

SETS (3):

• CAFE MAIN ROOM
• CAFE BACK ROOM
• PETE’S LIVING ROOM

ACT I (approx. time: 3:15)

(ESTABLISHING SHOT: Exterior of the Cascade Crossroads Cafe, better known around town from its exterior sign simply reading EAT. It’s a rundown working-class storefront eatery on the rundown main street of a small Northwest city somewhere outside Seattle, early afternoon)

(INT.: CAFE MAIN AREA, early afternoon)

(The lunch rush, such as it is, is over. Several old-timers crack unintelligible jokes as they amble toward the front door.)

OLD GEEZER #1

How was lunch today, you old gourmand?

OLD GEEZER #2

Patty melt: Undercooked. Bun: Overcooked. Fries: Soggy. Apple pie: too cold. Coffee: Weak, lukewarm. Service: If that new waitress weren’t so fine, I’d have something to say about that too.

OG #1

So it was the same as it’s been for the past 30 years?

OG #2

That’s what I love ’bout this place, you know that! Consistency! Brings ’em back every time!

(to waitress ANDREA, busing the recently-vacated booths and counter seats)

Right, milady?

ANDREA (to OG #2)

Yes, if you say so.

(to herself)

Nothing is new under the sun. Vanity, all is vanity, all leadeth unto death.

(She smiles as she says the word “death,” like a subject of adoration or lust. The old geezers have left. ANDREA pockets tip money from the table she was busing, then brings a full tray of dirty dishes toward the counter.)

ANDREA (half to herself, half to dishwasher IVAN behind the open wall space behind the counter)

Ivan, my non-heterosexual tableware-cleansing compatriot, there are only a few consistencies I have found in my current line of income production. Among them is how the most shabbily-dressed customers tend to leave the biggest tips.

(REXXX, a “straight edge” punk rocker, enters dressed in his usual wardrobe of pre-ripped black jeans, spiked arm bands, a leather jacket (this week painted on the back with the words READ CHOMSKY) and a “This Is Not A Fugazi T-Shirt” t-shirt.)

ANDREA (to Ivan, upon seeing Rexxx)

I retract my prior statement.

(to Rexxx)

Good afternoon Rexxx; just coffee again I presume?

REXXX

Yeah that’s right.

(REXXX sits at the counter next to KEVIN, a soft-spoken teenager.)

REXXX (to KEVIN)

Hey Kevin, ready for the Big Night?

KEVIN (barely looking up from his coffee at REXXX)

Yeah I guess.

REXXX

Ya better be up for it! First all-ages punk rock show this lousy town’s seen in years, and with as great a band as Sicko!

KEVIN (showing somewhat less open enthusiasm than Rexxx)

Yeah that’s cool. Thanks for taping that Sicko album for me; they’re great.

REXXX

At last, a place where good bands can play. Where underagers like you and devout nondrinkers like me can see them! And all thanks to Pete Shrieve, the new boss of this here joint. He grew up here. He went to Seattle and formed Peter and the Beaters, one of the greatest bands that never had a hit. Now he’s back.

(to ANDREA)

Hey Andrea, where is Pete anyway?

ANDREA (in her Goth-wistful voice)

I am not my employer’s keeper.

(To IVAN, liltingly)

Ivan, have you any knowledge of where Pete might be?

(Ivan, wearing a gay-pride pin on his apron, emerges from the swinging doors separating the customer/counter area from the back kitchen area.)

IVAN

Pete had to pick up the band. I think he said their van broke down out of town. I don’t remember when he left. Do you, Paula?

(PAULA, Pete’s girlfriend and assistant manager of the cafe, trundles out exhausted from the kitchen.)

PAULA (quasi-grumpily; to ANDREA)

I know just when Pete left: Right at the start of lunch, leaving me to do all the prep work and all the cooking. Thank god it’s just a light day.

(She hints nonverbally to Andrea that she’s having a “light day” in more than one meaning)

But I’ll still strangle that partner of mine the second he walks in.

(PETE boistrously enters the cafe, followed by the members of this week’s GUEST BAND, apparently old friends from Pete’s musician days.)

PETE (to the band)

So like I said, after ten years playing in Seattle, I had to take over the restaurant when my mom hurt herself. Apparently it was a freak accident. She’s OK but she has to stay off her hip. That meant she also had to move out of the apartment upstairs. But it’s going fine now, the cafe’s still in business, and tonight’s our first all-ages band night. And I couldn’t have done any of it without Paula here. Ain’t that right, sweetie?

(PAULA stares back at Pete with a stare of icy scorn, revealing to all her temporary lack of hospitality toward Pete and his guests. Pete, familiar with this stare, freezes in his tracks.)

OPENING CREDITS MONTAGE: (time: 0:45)

Quick cut to the main title EAT/CAFE, seen as a fading neon sign in the front window. Interspersed among shots of the central cast are cutaway shots of hamburger patties frying on a grill, milkshakes being mixed, French fries getting lowered into a deep-fat fryer, dirty dishes being hosed down, and coffee being poured from glass pots into ceramic cups. The theme music should be a post-punk-garage-pop guitar ditty, passionate and upbeat.

FIRST COMMERCIAL BREAK

ACT 1I (approx. time: 8:15)

(INT.: CAFE MAIN AREA, moments after the end of Act I)

(PETE and PAULA have evolved from stare-down to arguing. They are seated at the largest booth in the cafe, along with the three BAND members.)

PETE

I said I’m sorry a dozen times. Would you want me to leave my friends stuck five miles out of town for three hours?

PAULA

It’s not just that you left me at the start of lunch. It’s more.

BAND GUITARIST (to PETE)

Oh oh. When a girlfriend says “it’s more,” IT’S EVERYTHING. Prepare to have every fault and personality tic dissected and catalogued.

PAULA (to GUITARIST)

Please, it’s great to see you all again, but this is between me and Pete.

(to PETE)

It’s not a battle-of-the-sexes thing.

GUITARIST

That means it is.

(PAULA stares down the GUITARIST until he backs off.)

PAULA (to PETE)

It’s this, Pete. I supported you those years you tried to get your band going. Then I get laid off and before I can get another job you tell me your mother’s hurt, you ship yourself and me to this dying town. Now your mother expects me to permanently take over this business. And what’s more, I have to run everything but you won’t let me redecorate or even change the menu.

PETE

But Paula, this is a classic American diner. One of the last of its species.

PAULA

Species die when they don’t adapt. It’s not the Fifties. People want exciting food, food that doesn’t sit in your stomach like a cannonball. Right, Andrea?

ANDREA (swinging around toward the table where Pete and Paula are seated)

I would not know. I merely serve it, you merely pay me.

PAULA

See? Even in a town like this, people want better than we’ve got.

ANDREA

Actually, I do not dine at restaurants.

(She leaves the area swiftly.)

BAND DRUMMER

What the hell was that all about?

PETE

That doesn’t matter.

(to PAULA)

So Paula, what do you want?

(PETE reaches over to give PAULA a neck rub. She pulls away from him.)

PAULA

I don’t know. Just not this.

(She gestures toward her greasy apron.)

BAND DRUMMER:

It’s amazing you’ve stayed together this long. Remember that party where you fought over whether you (gestures to PETE) were gonna spend five weeks on tour? And you (gestures to PAULA) took that big cardboard standup of Mr. T and–

PAULA (rubbing her temples as an electric whirr is heard in the background)

Please. That sound means I have to be happy.

(What Paula hears is a motorized three-wheel cart driven by Pete’s 66-year-old mother EILEEN SHRIEVE motoring into the cafe, trailed by and arguing with the town’s mayor, SYLVIA HARRISON.)

PAULA (switching instantly to “happy” mode)

Hello Eileen.

PETE (to EILEEN)

Hi mom. How’s it going?

EILEEN

It would be fine if I weren’t trailed by a certain parasitic creature.

SYLVIA

If you’d just hear my proposal, Eileen, you’d see it’s your only viable–

(notices PETE and PAULA)

Good afternoon, Paula, Pete.

PAULA (in an aside to the BAND MEMBERS)

Sylvia Harrison. The mayor of our friendly community.

SYLVIA

Pete, have you a clue on how to reach your mother? She won’t acknowledge my existence.

EILEEN

I am aware of your existence, dear. I am aware of those papers you hold, and I need not be reminded of their contents.

SYLVIA

But if you’d look at the plans, you’d understand. Your family’s been part of this town so long, I don’t see how you wouldn’t support this.

PETE

Still plugging your development scheme?

SYLVIA

It’s the only salvation for your mother’s property, Pete. The last cannery here in Potlatch may close any year now. Downtown retail’s been decimated by the new mall. We’ve got to come together and make Olde Factorie Towne a reality.

BAND GUITARIST

Hey, can I see that?

(SYLVIA unrolls a small poster with a sketch of the cafe and nearby buildings transformed into tourist shops. She hands it to the BAND GUITARIST.)

SYLVIA (to the BAND MEMBERS) Behold. Maybe people like you can’t appreciate quality, but trust me. Tourists, families, and couples on romantic getaways will love Olde Factorie Towne.

(Rhapsodic)

Imagine: Glass art galleries! Ice cream parlors! The Olde Cannerie Toure, with authentic re-creations of sheet metal stamped into can molds! A mini-theme park with actors playing the roles of old farmers and townspeople! And where this greasetrap is now, a dining experience with the best regional dishes — (to PAULA) I’ve found this great chef from L.A., Paula. He’s dying to come up here and create our own traditional cuisine!

PAULA (Patronizingly)

That’s nice.

EILEEN (Increasingly agitated)

How many real townspeople will be evicted so you can hire your phony townspeople?

PETE

Easy, mom. Remember, you were arguing with Sylvia when you had your accident.

EILEEN

When I tripped on a bucket of salad dressing that shouldn’t have been where it was. (to SYLVIA) I can’t prove you put it there, but–

SYLVIA

Still on those prescription painkillers, I see.

EILEEN

I’m lucid enough to tell you as long as I, my son Pete, and my son’s “friend” Paula are here, the Cascade Crossroads Cafe will stay open and unsullied. If you’ll excuse me, I have to ask my son about today’s receipts.

PAULA

Eileen, I told you. I’m handling that, for now.

EILEEN

But Paula, if you’re in charge of the kitchen AND the receipts, what’s Pete in charge of?

PAULA

Let’s talk about that in the kitchen, OK?

EILEEN

Good idea. I can show you how to make that pie crust more solid.

(Eileen honks a small bicycle horn on her motor chair, then follows Paula into the kitchen area.)

SYLVIA (to PETE)

I may be a “parasitic creature,” but I know a few things. I know you’re lucky your mother had her accident on the job, so she could get Workman’s Comp. Maybe next time you won’t be so lucky. Maybe for her sake you should sell this property, while you can get a good price.

PETE

Suggestion noted. Excuse me, Sylvia, I have a show to get ready for.

SYLVIA (sternly, while staring at the BAND MEMBERS)

I heard about this. Noisy disrespectful teenage punk rock. Not the attraction that builds a community image. Pete, your experience in entertainment could be valuable to our efforts. If you’d only put on some nice blues or classic rock.

PETE

You’re saying if I switch to oldies, you’ll call off the cops and fire marshals that have been here all week to try to shut us down?

SYLVIA

I don’t micro-manage my city departments. But if our civil servants have legitimate questions about the safety and security of this firetrap, I hope you can answer them.

PETE

I already have. But if you really want this building for your development, your people better not uncover any obscure ordinances to try to stop our shows.

BAND BASSIST

Enough with the civil disobedience. We haven’t eaten. What’s good here?

PETE

Everything. I like the meat loaf sandwich on classic white bread, or the bacon cheeseburger with genuine Velveeta.

BAND DRUMMER

Ahh, the taste of America.

PETE

Great! Let me get Andrea to take your orders.

(The BAND MEMBERS open the menus at the table while PETE rises and walks over to the counter, where ANDREA has been chatting with REXXX and KEVIN. PETE motions ANDREA toward the BAND’s table.)

PETE (to ANDREA)

Sorry to interrupt your little literary soiree there, but we’ve got business.

(The camera follows ANDREA as she silently but reluctantly heads to the band’s table behind PETE, writes down the BAND MEMBERS’ wishes while PETE sits back down, and saunters back to the counter. There, she tears off a page from her order pad and sticks it on the turntable.)

ANDREA (to PAULA, off camera in the kitchen area behind the counter)

Paula dearest: I regret that I must interrupt your family quality time, but we have business.

(PAULA sits back down at the counter, as IVAN emerges from the kitchen area with a tray of freshly washed coffee mugs.)

ANDREA (to IVAN)

Ivan dearest, please resume your poetry recital.

IVAN (putting the mugs away)

You asked for it. This is my stronger stuff, and I don’t know if the judges at the Potlatch Community College poetry slam will like it. You guys tell me if you think it’ll be too much.

REXXX

I can take anything. Right, Kevin?

KEVIN

Yeah, whatever.

IVAN (in an amateur poetry reader’s monotonic rant)

We do not live in this world alone, but in a thousand other worlds. I live in the world of lumber mills and fruit canneries, of gimme caps and late-model Detroit pickups. But I also live in a world seldom seen in daylight, in the open. A world of men whose love of men would spark a storm of hate if it were known. A world of secrets, of kept promises, of hard working men’s muscular arms embracing on darkened car seats parked deep in the woods. Of lithe male muscles in tension and relaxation beneath the overcast night.

(Andrea is coolly but clearly smitten by IVAN’s descriptions of manly love. KEVIN is taken by the poem’s invocation of a dangerous underground subculture, but gets subtly bored by the stuff about guys kissing.)

REXXX (to IVAN)

So far, merely strong enough to get you expelled from the poetry slam for life. Go for it. Mind you, I still believe casual sex fosters the treatment of other human beings as consumer items, which runs counter to the goal of building a true revolutionary society. It saps strength from the body without contributing strength to the soul.

IVAN (to REXXX, half-mockingly)

Which straight-edge anarchist pamplet did you read that one out of?

ANDREA (to IVAN, gushingly)

Do not bother with that, Ivan. I loved your poem. I want to hear more about the muscular arms. You do also, Kevin, no?

KEVIN (trying to hide his youthful embarrassment)

I don’t know. I liked the parts about the secret world. I feel like I’ve always lived in one, without anybody else in it. As I grew up I liked things nobody else liked. I liked cabaret music, movies with tough women, and fantasies about secret subcultures. I hated the stupid jocks in school and anything they had to do with. They hated me too; I’ve been called a faggot since the fifth grade. I ended up thinking I probably was one, whatever it was.

IVAN

You’re still young, Kevin my boy. Some people don’t doscover their true sexual nature until well into their twenties, or after.

REXXX

Another reason to hold off until you know.

IVAN

Or to experiment, safely of course, ’til you find out.

(SYLVIA obviously overhears some of this as she brushes past Ivan, Rexxx, Kevin and Andrea on her way out of the cafe. She gives a firm, haughty stare of disapproval toward Ivan.)

SYLVIA (to herself, as she exits the front door)

And they say we don’t need to clean up the neighborhood.

SECOND COMMERCIAL BREAK

ACT III SCENE I (approx. time: 4:00)

(INT: REAR DINING ROOM, later that evening)

(The room is filling with what passes for an alternative-music community in the little town: teenagers, community college students, and other young adults, some in various subculture costumes, some in street clothes. PAULA and PETE are greeting fans and handling last-minute details.)

PETE

OK. We’ve made sure nobody has alcohol on the premises, so the Liquor Board can’t bust us. We had Ivan and Andrea stand outside during sound check, to make sure the cops can’t bust us for noise. We’ve issued numbered tickets printed with the admissions tax. We’re only selling tickets to the cafe’s legal capacity. And if Mayor Sylvia’s troops have any other objections, (smiling) let ’em come to me.

PAULA (deadpan)

Just flash that aw-shucks cuteness at ’em, Pete, and they’ll melt away. Always worked for me.

PETE

So you’re not mad at me anymore?

PAULA

Let’s just say I’m learning to be cuteness-resistant.

(PAULA walks off camera. PETE walks to the small stage, where the BAND MEMBERS are still setting up their gear.)

PETE

Guys, it’s time for a little ritual sacrifice. I’d like you to try to be nice to Stoker McGee over there, the entertainment reporter for our little local afternoon paper.

(PETE points to a table where STOKER is seated. On his table are a reporter’s notebook, a red pen, and several pages of a computer printout of some double-spaced text.)

BAND GUITARIST

Anything for ol’ Peter Beater. C’mon guys.

(PETE leads the BAND MEMBERS toward STOKER’s table.)

PETE

Stoker McGee, meet the members of Sicko.

STOKER

Pleased to meet you. So Pete’s starting out this concert series of his with some old friends.

BAND DRUMMER (reading the computer printout)

Hey, what’s this? You already wrote your review!

STOKER

Well, uh, my editor likes to have some early material. I’ll update it if anything happens.

BAND DRUMMER (reading)

“The three-piece ensemble feebly attempted to breathe life into the tiresome repetitions of three-chord garage rock, to an audience largely too young to have experienced Real Music.” What’s this crap?

STOKER

C’mon. You look like you’ve been around. This teenybopper punk rock might sell a few CDs, but you must admit it just doesn’t have the textural power of the Real Music we had in the Sixties.

BAND DRUMMER

Then what are you doing here?

STOKER

My job obligates me to report on major entertainment events in this county, and yours happens to be the biggest event here since the On Your Toes Players’ Christmas performance of “The Nutcracker.” Also, I’m here to get the story in case some of these impressionable youths decide to start rioting and looting.

(Cutaway shot: Pan of audience members expressing bored, timid, giggly, and other decidedly non-violent youthful looks.)

STOKER (continuing)

And my publishers would like to show their support for live music in downtown, up to a point. They’d like this sorry little exercise to lead to a glorious future with —

BAND BASSIST in unison with STOKER

— with Olde Factorie Towne.

BAND BASSIST (on his own)

Gotta go. Keep those ink stains out of your nails.

(The BAND MEMBERS return to the stage, where PETE is working on some electrical connections.)

PETE

I saw you out there. You did great. Remember: Stoker McGee has an almost perfect reverse golden gut. Anything he hates, you can bet it’s good. The worse he writes about your show, the more people will show up at my next show here.

BAND DRUMMER

Then maybe we should’ve spit on him.

(PAULA approaches the foot of the stage.)

PAULA (frustratedly)

I mean it this time, Pete. You’ve got to pull some of that weight of yours around here. Could you please go help Ivan at the door?

PETE (to the BAND MEMBERS)

Hey, gotta go. Break a leg, guys. Paula, you know I couldn’t keep this place going without you.

(PETE moves to kiss PAULA, who pulls away from him. He walks off camera, passing ANDREA who approaches PAULA.)

ANDREA (to PAULA)

Paula, I must congratulate you and Pete. The evening shows every potential for triumph.

PAULA (sarcastically)

Great. If it were a smashing failure, maybe I could have gotten run out of town.

ANDREA

Tell me, do you know the identity of that overdressed and somewhat conceited looking young male at that back table?

(ANDREA points to TOMMY, extremely noticeable due to his clean-cut college-boy grooming in a room of dissipated punksters. He’s looking around in all directions, as if casing out the joint.)

PAULA

No, Andrea. I’ve never seen him before. I didn’t think you cared for the well-fed type.

ANDREA

Please. You may be sarcastic toward Pete, but let us at least be friends. I would not be interested in placing a Wiccan curse upon someone like that man there. However, he did attract my attention when he started to ask many nosy questions at the door. Among his interests: How much money do we charge, do we really pay the admissions tax and if so to whom, are any contraband pharmeceuticals available for purchase here —

PAULA

I get the picture. I’ll watch out for him. Thanks.

(PAULA takes to the stage)

PAULA (into a microphone stand on the stage)

I’d like to thank you all for coming tonight to our first all-ages show, and maybe my last. Please welcome Sicko!

ACT III SCENE II (approx. time: 2:00)

(INT.: Cafe back room)

(The new kid appears to be appreciative as the BAND performs one almost-complete song.)

ACT III SCENE III (approx. time: 0:45)

(INT.: Cafe main room)

(As the band continues to play, TOMMY the new kid sneaks out to a booth in the front room and pulls out a cell phone from his suit. He calls someone.)

TOMMY (whispering into the phone; a female voice can faintly be heard from the receiver)

Hi. It’s Tommy. Yeah, I’m here. Yeah, the band’s pretty good, if you’re into that sorta thing. The people look a little strange — OK, some of them look a lot strange — but they’re well behaved, at least so far. The place looks clean, but not to worry; if there aren’t drugs or under-21s drinking here, I can plant ’em. Something small, something nobody will ever notice except the cops. Gotcha. (Familially) Love you too. Bye.

ACT III SCENE IV (approx. time 1:45)

(INT.: LIVING ROOM OF PETE’S APARTMENT, later that night)

(PAULA emerges from the door leading to her and Pete’s bedroom, bearing a pillow, bedsheets, blanket, and alarm clock in a large unweildy bundle. PETE stands just outside that door, as PAULA just barely moves her collection past him.)

PETE

But Paula, I told the band they could stay in mom’s old room. Paula, can’t we fight when we don’t have company?

(PAULA silently maneuvers herself and her bundle through the door leading to a second bedroom. She quietly closes the bedroom door as the BAND MEMBERS trudge into the room, themselves laden with sleeping bags and tote bags.)

PETE

Seems Paula won’t let me apologize. I hope you’ll let me.

BAND GUITARIST

No problem, we’re used to all exigencies. Right guys?

(The other two BAND MEMBERS nod in agreement.)

BAND GUITARIST.

I’ll take the rug. It’ll be good for my back after sleeping in the van most of our last tour. You guys flip a coin. Winner gets the couch, loser gets the La-Z-Boy.

BAND DRUMMER

No. I’ll take the recliner the first half of the night; I’ll trade places with Rob the second half.

PETE

How’ll you know when it’s half?

BAND DRUMMER

I always wake up at three. It’s a legacy from when I lived in this band house. All the roommates would come back from their band practice promptly at three. I had my room in the basement, so I’d hear their Doc Martens boots clomping on my ceiling. Clomp clomp clomp clomp. Punctuated by the occasional breaking beer bottle. It’s been wired into my biological clock ever since.

ACT III SCENE V (approx. time 1:00)

(INT.: PETE’S LIVING ROOM, 3 a.m.)

(The band is sleeping, or trying to sleep, with the drummer curled up on an old overstuffed sofa, the bassist in a foam-leaking recliner chair, and the guitarist in a sleeping bags on the carpet. The DRUMMER promptly awakens and checks the wristwatch he still has on.)

BAND DRUMMER (yawningly)

Hmm, 3:02. Watch must be a little fast.

(The DRUMMER rises from the recliner, still in his sleeping bag, high enough to observe PETE and then PAULA step out of his room, approach PAULA’s door, prepare to knock, have second thoughts, and return to his room. Just after PETE’s door closes, the DRUMMER watches PAULA emerge from her room, approach PETE’s door, then turn around and return to her room. The DRUMMER shrugs, then climbs out of the recliner and approaches the sofa.)

SLIDE: “TO BE CONTINUED”

THIRD COMMERCIAL BREAK

CLOSING CREDITS (0:45)

The credit slides flash over a background of this week’s guest BAND performing a segment of another song on the cafe dining room stage.

Go to the Eat Cafe concept