Prompt Images
OPENING SCENE:
A sunny, windy morning in October at a dog park in Washington, D.C.
Officer Smith (VOICE OVER):
Normal dog park activity: five dogs playing happily. Sniffing each other in indecent places, running erratically, barking, deciding whether to chase the tennis ball itself or the dog that’s chasing the tennis ball. Changing their minds and peeing decisively on the chain link fence.
Humans stand around the perimeter, fretting.
Three men in hooded sweatshirts and Northeastern collegiate ball caps they’re still proud to wear 10 years after college graduation, despite absence from any notable timely athletic conversations. Tufts, Brown, MIT. Aged roughly 34 to 45 years old.
Four gaunt women in North Face fleeces (or similar), dressed up and down, alternately. With designer jeans and infinity scarves or high-end athleisure clothing because even if you are a filthy, sweaty scrub, you shouldn’t have to look like one. Aged a mature 26 to 50, though it’s a well-preserved 50 that looks hormone-, GMO-, and gluten-free, with regular fish oil supplements.
I am the closest available officer to an incident in the dog park, no further details offered by the dispatcher. I arrive on the scene alone, counting down the 18 minutes until my shift ends. The worst kind of shift: a looooong night, followed by a slow morning. I exit the vehicle and walk into smaller of two intersecting fenced-in enclosures.
MARIA:
Make sure you close the one behind you before you open the other one. Please. Thanks.
OFFICER SMITH:
Good morning. Did someone here call in an incident?
Officer Smith (V.O.):
The owners assemble around me, talking out of turn in a cloud of overlapping words. They all seem very adamant, and I’m not sure if they’re arguing or agreeing. I also have no clear idea of what the problem is.
OFFICER SMITH:
So, what exactly happened? I’m not sure I caught it in the first pass.
RACHEL:
(quietly, to VANESSA and KATERINA)
Is this guy serious? Dumber than my big stupid Charlie.
(To yellow lab, CHARLIE, THE DOG, foraging into OFFICER SMITH’S legs and leaving wiry yellow hairs on his pants)
Isn’t he, boy?
OFFICER SMITH:
(shaking leg to push away the dog)
Was there some kind of altercation? I thought I heard something in there about a fight or… was somebody hurt or hit or…
(trails off)
RACHEL:
It was mostly just a big commotion. Lots of dogs, lots of action.
OFFICER SMITH:
OK, ma’am, can I start with you then? What’s your name?
RACHEL:
Rachel Ross.
CHARLIE, THE PERSON:
All due respect, sir, I think it was a bit more than just a “big commotion.” If it was, do you think we would have called an officer of the law? All due respect.
OFFICER SMITH:
I just need a statement. Sir, maybe you’d like to tell me what happened?
CHARLIE, THE PERSON:
Of course.
OFFICER SMITH:
OK, can I get your name?
CHARLIE, THE PERSON:
Charlie Vaughn. V-A-U-G-H-N. Senior Associate at Fields & Sumner.
OFFICER SMITH:
Just the name is fine, sir.
CHARLIE, THE PERSON:
(continuing)
J.D. from Brown, 2006. B.A., Notre Dame, Class of ’03.
DOM:
Class of ’05! Go Irish!
OFFICER SMITH:
OK, Charlie, please continue.
CHARLIE, THE PERSON:
Really? Wow. I saw the Tufts hat and didn’t think…
DOM:
(pointing to hat)
MBA, ’07.
OFFICER SMITH tries to get a word in but can’t, resorts to waving his pen. CHARLIE and DOM ignore him.
CHARLIE, THE PERSON:
Deloitte guy?
DOM:
McKinsey.
CHARLIE, THE PERSON:
Good for you, man.
CHARLIE and DOM continue talking in a sidebar.
OFFICER SMITH:
(to MARIA)
Ma’am, would you mind telling me what happened?
MARIA:
Well, Dom and I—that’s my husband right there, the MBA—we got a new puppy last month after our honeymoon in the Seychelles. We named her Seychelles.
VANESSA:
She’s adorable. I was wondering, what kind of dog is she?
MARIA:
She’s a pubeagloosh.
VANESSA:
How exotic! I’ve never heard of that.
MARIA:
It’s a pug, beagle, poodle, shih tzu.
VANESSA:
Adorable!
OFFICER SMITH:
(while writing)
Seychelles, small mutt.
KATERINA:
(to VANESSA while squeezing her arm in despair)
Ugh. V, you know how I feel about designer puppies.
VANESSA:
(to KATERINA)
Oh, Katerina, lighten up.
KATERINA:
Dog rape. Absolutely immoral. No free will. Those poor bitches have no choice.
VANESSA:
(to MARIA)
I’m sorry. She’s a victim advocate, and it’s just so hard sometimes to get her to take off that hat.
KATERINA:
Survivor advocate, V. We’ve been through this.
OFFICER SMITH:
So, then, Seychelles…
MARIA:
No, my name is Maria. The little dog over there is Seychelles.
OFFICER SMITH:
No, I understand.
MARIA:
Oh, you understand? Classic mansplaining. So, Officer, why don’t you just tell me what happened?
OFFICER SMITH:
Ma’am. Please just tell me what happened.
MARIA:
(scoffs and rolls her eyes)
So, Seychelles was just over there in the corner minding her little business while the bigger dogs were playing over here. It was getting a little rough, and she’s timid around some of the more imposing dogs.
KATERINA:
(to VANESSA)
What a surprise! Her designer shmupoodle-bug has a problem with rescue dogs.
MARIA:
I never said that.
KATERINA:
Yeah, but we all know what you meant. Gentrification is ruining this neighborhood.
(a pause, and then)
What a dumb bitch.
MARIA:
Excuse me?
OFFICER SMITH:
Let’s keep the language PG, ladies. I thought we were getting somewhere.
KATERINA:
I’m talking about our dog Winnie. Look at her. She’s eating his newspaper.
CHARLIE, THE PERSON:
Oh, come on! I wasn’t finished reading that! Can you get your animal under control?
VANESSA:
Look, I didn’t want to be the one to say it, but our Winnie was the only dog not involved in the initial incident. So, let’s all just calm down about the newspaper.
OFFICER SMITH:
OK, so can we get back to the initial incident? Please.
CHARLIE, THE PERSON:
So, I’m throwing a tennis ball to my two rescue mutts, Veep and POTUS.
OFFICER SMITH:
And which ones are they?
CHARLIE, THE PERSON:
Veep is the light brown, short-haired one with the pointy ears, and POTUS is the black one.
Everyone stops to look at CHARLIE, THE PERSON.
CHARLIE, THE PERSON:
I swear, I have had that dog since 2006.
KATERINA:
But still, to hear him described that way.
OFFICER SMITH:
So you’re throwing the tennis ball…
CHARLIE, THE PERSON:
Yes, I’m throwing the tennis ball to my dogs and then that lab comes in.
RACHEL:
Charlie, he’s my lab.
CHARLIE, THE PERSON:
So I throw the ball, and it goes near Mauritius.
DOM:
Brother, not to be a nitpicker, but her name is Seychelles.
CHARLIE, THE PERSON:
But when we were talking you said you named your dog after where you honeymooned.
DOM:
Ah, yeah, no I see where I got you confused. We visited both islands.
CHARLIE, THE PERSON:
Amazing. Beautiful.
DOM:
It really was. Trip of a lifetime. Till the next one, am I right?
CHARLIE, THE PERSON and DOM laugh and high five.
OFFICER SMITH:
So you throw the ball…
CHARLIE, THE PERSON:
Yes, so I throw the ball and it hits Seychelles, so now Veep and POTUS and the big lab come barreling over.
RACHEL:
His name is Charlie.
CHARLIE, THE PERSON:
And POTUS accidentally bites Seychelles while he’s going for the ball. So now,
(to DOM)
I’m sorry brother, I never got your name.
DOM:
Dom Finley.
CHARLIE, THE PERSON:
Dom, I’m Charlie. Pleasure.
(to OFFICER SMITH)
So now Dom and I both run over to try to intervene, and pull our dogs apart before either one of them gets hurt. That was all I saw, but I know there was some other commotion.
OFFICER SMITH:
OK, did anyone see what else happened?
VANESSA:
Yes, one of the others—
KATERINA:
Not our Winnie, though!
VANESSA:
Came out of nowhere and just tackled the brown one. Veep is it?
CHARLIE, THE PERSON:
Yeah, that one’s Veep.
OFFICER SMITH:
OK, and did someone see who tackled Veep?
RACHEL:
It was Charlie.
OFFICER SMITH:
This man did that, or the dog?
RACHEL:
The dog. Obviously.
OFFICER SMITH:
OK, then can we just agree to call this man “Charles,” just to keep things simple?
CHARLIE, THE PERSON
All due respect, but that’s not even my real name. On my birth certificate, it says Charlie Chaplin Vaughn.
OFFICER SMITH:
Please, sir. There’s the hard way, and there’s the easy way.
CHARLIE, THE PERSON:
Excuse me? Am I under arrest?
OFFICER SMITH:
There’s no arrest. Jesus, you people are so complicated.
VANESSA:
What do you mean, you people?
KATERINA:
Yeah, I didn’t like your tone, sir. What’s your badge number?
OFFICER SMITH:
(sighing)
0795.
KATERINA:
Hmph. We’ll see how your supervisor feels about this one, won’t we?
“You people.” WOW.
OFFICER SMITH:
Look, I’m not trying to make this hard on anyone. I just want to make sure I have this all correctly documented so we can all get on our way and keep enjoying this beautiful Sunday morning. Alright?
(writing)
So, you said Potus bit Seychelles.
CHARLIE, THE PERSON:
All due respect, sir, but POTUS is an acronym.
OFFICER SMITH:
OK?
CHARLIE, THE PERSON:
An acronym. You know, like an abbreviation where you use the first letter of every word. POTUS should be capitalized in your report. But, I see you’ve written it here in lower case.
OFFICER SMITH:
I’m just trying to keep this simple.
CHARLIE, THE PERSON:
All due respect, but it seems pretty simple to get his name right. This dog is like a member of my family.
KATERINA:
Not like. He is a member of your family.
CHARLIE, THE PERSON:
Sir, this dog is a member of my family!
OFFICER SMITH:
(crossing out words and rewriting them on his pad, wincing)
POTUS. There. Got it.
CHARLIE, THE PERSON:
All due respect, Officer, but I billed 90 hours last week, and I’m sure if my assistant cross-checked every one of my files there isn’t one name misspelled.
OFFICER SMITH:
OK, so what I’ve heard here is that Charlie Chaplin Vaughn threw a tennis ball, and his dog POTUS—
(pauses, smiles patronizingly)
accidentally bit Seychelles—dog of Dom and Maria Finley. In the commotion, Rachel Ross’s dog—named Charlie—tackles Charlie Chaplin Vaughn’s other dog, Veep. Is that accurate?
RACHEL:
Yes. Finally.
OFFICER SMITH:
OK, and so how can I be helpful?
RACHEL:
Well, we just thought someone would need to know, for statistical purposes.
KATERINA:
I mean, we’re all safe and sound, thankfully, but this kind of event should go into the annual report. I’m not going to be someone who lets an incident go unreported.
OFFICER SMITH:
The annual report?
MARIA:
Yes, the annual report.
OFFICER SMITH:
What annual report?
DOM:
The one about this dog park.
OFFICER SMITH:
I’m not sure I’ve ever seen or heard of such a report.
CHARLIE, THE PERSON
You mean to tell me you don’t keep statistics on this?
OFFICER SMITH:
Dog park statistics? No, I don’t believe I’ve seen any numbers coming out of the dog parks.
DOM:
Cops in this town! Unbelievable.
(takes a bite of his pastry)
Eating donuts, just wasting taxpayer dollars. Too busy issuing parking tickets—
OFFICER SMITH:
That’s a completely different department.
KATERINA:
Riding their fun little segways this way and that. Can’t even keep statistics right. Is it any wonder my clients feel so underserved?
OFFICER SMITH:
Ma’am, the number of domestic abuse and sexual assault incidents have both dropped over 45 percent in the past decade.
VANESSA:
Well, yeah, when you don’t keep statistics…
KATERINA:
Amen. Thank you, baby!
OFFICER SMITH:
We just don’t keep these particular statistics.
VANESSA:
Unreal.
OFFICER SMITH:
So, is anyone pressing charges?
DOM and MARIA:
(in unison, indignant)
Absolutely not.
CHARLIE, THE PERSON:
That’s not what this is about. We’re just having a nice afternoon, officer, take it easy.
OFFICER SMITH:
Alright, well, unless there’s anything else, I’m going to head back to the station and type this up.
(closes his notebook and starts walking out)
KATERINA:
Type it up. For what? They’re not even keeping track of this.
DOM:
Yeah, thanks for wasting our time, Officer.
CHARLIE, THE PERSON:
(yelling after Officer Smith)
You know, at the firm, I bill at $550 an hour.
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