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(In a small forest during the season of fall, there is a small colonial cabin. Surrounding the cabin, there were wheat fields as well as apple trees. A scarecrow dressed up as Uncle Sam is placed in the middle of the fields. Inside the building, it is typical of an Americana building with pro-American items and memorabilia inside: A kitchen table with apple pies and apples, baseball bats near the chimney, posters of the statue of Liberty and the classic Coca-Cola bottle, a jukebox right next Walt’s writing desk plays Bob Dylan music, and a large hot rod figurine besides the American-themed couch. Everything is pretty stereotypical of American culture as a whole. WALT, who bares heavy similarity to Walt Whitman, is writing on his desk; a poem he is creating. NORMAN, who physically appears to be Norman Rockwell, is across from WALT and paints what he sees from outside the window. Both seem pretty happy; although, it is clear that WALT is in a mode of deep thought as he struggles to write.)
Hmm. Difficult it is indeed.
What is it?
You know what it is. Nothing goes by luck in composition. The best you can write will be the best you are.
And what does that mean?
It means that every sentence is the result of a long probation. The author’s character is read from title page to end.
Deliberation is a lengthy process. You must be patient for creativity to be spurred. As I like to say, commonplaces never become tiresome. It is we who become tired when we cease to be curious and appreciative. We find that it is not a new scene, which needed, but a new viewpoint.
(WALT chuckles and puts down his pen. He turns around to face NORMAN.)
I am. If it takes a hundred years to paint or; in your case, to write, then it shall. Nothing that has even been done quickly ever succeeded and if it had, then they were already famous and no one cared what they did next, or someone much better did it for them.
I too am not a bit tamed, I am too untranslatable, and I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.
You’re getting too poetic again. I can never understand a poetic man.
I’m a crazy American, maybe a bit too much, but I will get my work done for my world to see. It will not take me a hundred years. It will take me the end of this day!
(NORMAN stops painting and his eyes go in the direction of WALT and lets out an unnerved smile.)
You should really be more patient. I am.
But you’re an artist; time is essential. I’m a lyricist, and by the moments of… (Snaps fingers) Great ideas, you must write it down immediately!
(WALT gets up from his desk and walks over to NORMAN. NORMAN resumes painting, but he does so in an anxious manner.)
We cannot write well or truly but what we write with gusto. (More passionately) The body, the sense, must conspire with the mind. Expression is the act of the whole man, that our speech may be vascular. A long time is harmful to me! I cannot wait but seize the beauty!
Stop being poetic!
(WALT sighs before walking around an irritated NORMAN. The poet clicks his shoes together and whistles the tune of Yankee Doodle.)
I’m trying to paint.
I know you are. I’m trying to find inspiration for my work. Maybe vexing you brings the necessary inspiration in completing my poem.
No it won’t!
(WALT chuckles on how irritated NORMAN is. He looks down at his shoes before looking up again. His face expresses an emotion of surprise and joy. He gets closer to the window and stares at something outside. NORMAN puzzling looks at WALT as he continues to paint.)
What are you doing?
I think I just found my inspiration!
(NORMAN stops painting and looks outside the window. To his shock, he sees a brown-skinned girl in ragged clothing, looking quite dirty. She is right next to the Uncle Sam scarecrow, which its colors are starting to fade away. The Hispanic girl is silently staring back at WALT and NORMAN.)
Don’t you dare think about it!
A new version of America indeed! She must be the inspiration God has sent!
Hold on a minute! Look at her. Look what she did to our scarecrow. She’s not invited into our home.
I need to go outside and talk to her.
No! Stay in here with me! Don’t go outside!
But I must. Ultimately nature and events are largely what our imaginations make them out to be.
And what is she going to make your imagination out to be?
(WALT walks across the room to the door. NORMAN rapidly gets out of his chair and runs over towards WALT. WALT reaches the doorknob, but so does NORMAN’s hand, which is preventing WALT from opening the door. Both struggle against one another.)
I must go outside! That girl is my inspiration!
No she’s not! She will destroy it. She’s going to taint your writing!
No! She’s going to make it better!
You’re staying! You will lose your sense of writing because of her!
(As they continue to struggle, outside, the Uncle Sam Scarecrow loses all its colors. The wheat fields also begin to drop and die. The Hispanic girl confused what is happening, picks up one of the dead wheat stalk and examines it. It blackens and disintegrates in her hands. She looks up to the house and begins to walks towards it. Inside, WALT and NORMAN continue to struggle.)
Let me leave!
Why are you so insistent that I stay away from that little girl?
She is not one of us! That’s why! Just look at her! Does she really look like us?
(They continue to struggle. Outside, the Hispanic girl gets closer to the building. Now, she is in front of the window where WALT and NORMAN saw her. She peeks in to view the interior of the building and smiles. However, inside the building, it starts to shake as if an earthquake is occurring. Items and paintings begin to fall off furniture and the walls. WALT and NORMAN notice this and they continue to struggle with one another.)
Are you seeing what’s happening?
I do! A little renovation is all it needs. Nothing too bad in my opinion!
What in the hell are you talking about? She’s going to destroy our livelihoods!
(The Hispanic girl starts to move toward the front of the cabin, where the front door is. As she moves over there, all of the wheat fields are dead and the apples trees begin to die as well. Some of the apples drop to the floor, rotted inside with maggots. She is now a few feet away from the door, and the building begins to shake more than ever. Inside, more objects start to crash down onto the floor. It seems that the house will be destroyed. NORMAN takes WALT’s hand off the doorknob and pushes him down to the ground. He stands over the poet, triumphly.)
You pushed me down! You know I have arthritis you fool!
I’m sorry that I have to do this to you but you are not going out. You’re staying in here! Hopefully, after a while, that girl will leave and never come back.
(WALT, after coughing some more, suddenly kicks NORMAN in the groin. He collapses, holding on to his groin, in pain. He groans on the floor. WALT slowly gets up and reaches for the doorknob. On the other side, the Hispanic girl knocks and waits for someone to open it. She waits patiently. NORMAN recovers just enough to speak to WALT. Everything in the building continues to collapse.)
Please don’t open it! Don’t destroy us! That girl will cause this building to collapse and everything we built together will be gone!
(WALT looks over to NORMAN meticulously. The poet grins and then lets out a small chuckle.)
So what? How is a little change so bad?
(NORMAN screams after him to stop as WALT opens the door. He opens it to see the Hispanic girl in front of him. She smiles, and the poet smiles back. WALT gets out of the way so the girl can enter the cabin. She walks in gleefully and WALT closes the door behind her. As it shuts, the entire cabin collapses onto itself, and everything is destroyed. While the cabin is left in rubble, the wheat fields and apple trees remain dead, with some beginning to fade away into black dust. However, a beautiful, yellow Mexican Marigold flower begins to sprout out of the destruction. Soon after it quickly sprouts, more begin to appear as well.)