[ The next day ... ]
At the breakfast table.
Steve: “Have you ever tried a threesome?”
Laura: “Oh, for christsake!”
Steve: “I’m just asking.”
Laura; “And I’ve asked you to stop talking on the subject.”
Steve: "It’s not like I want the normal male threesome fantasy. This would be something for you.”
Laura: “I don’t want it!”
Steve: "But It would be just like having two of me. Wouldn’t that be great?”
Steve: “In fact, why not three, or four, or more of us?"
Laura getting angry.
Laura: “I don’t want any filthy ‘roaches looking at me! I don’t want them touching me, or even living in the same apartment building with me. I don’t like ‘roaches!”
Silent frame, Laura and Steve both still, and a little stunned.
Steve: “So that’s how it is then.... I’m filthy?”
Laura: “No, no. Sorry. Not you … just your friends.”
Steve: “This works the other way you know. You humans aren't as clean as you like to think”
Laura: “I don’t think of YOU as filthy, Steve. Honest.”
Steve: “No. Just my entire species!”
Laura: “It was just a phrase.”
Steve: “What, like the phrase 'frigid bitch'?”
One page of Laura losing it and swatting Steve with a magazine.
Laura: "DON"T CALL ME THAT!!!!"
Lots of small panels on this page. 3x3 or some other format.
Laura holding still, the magazine in place, not wanting to look under it.
Slowly lifting the magazine ...
... and peeking under it.
Laura running to the kitchen sink...
... and throwing up in it.
Laura slumped on the floor near the sink, crying. Head in hands.
Similar to 6.
Looking over at the table where she killed Steve
Back to crying.
[ Laura cleaned the table top eleven times ... ]
Laura scrubbing the table with steel wool and a bottle of industrial strength cleaner. There is an obvious patch on the table that is now so clean it is a different colour from the rest of the table.
[ ... and stayed inside for three days eating ice cream, sobbing, and watching trash tv. ]
Laura sitting on a couch watching tv while eating ice cream, with a packet of tissues close by, and lots of used tissues everywhere.
[ Like so many of her relationships the end had come suddenly and unexpected. ]
Lying on the same couch thinking.
[ She wondered if Steve's friends would seek revenge... ]
[... so she started carrying a can of heavy-duty bug spray with her. ]
Make sure there's always a can of bug spray near her in all the remaining panels.
[ But she never saw any cockroaches. ]
[ Not one. ]
[ Her mother rang, asking her if she wanted to come over for Sunday dinner. ]
Laura on the phone. From the phone comes a speech bubble.
Phone: “What’s wrong, dear?”
[ Laura confessed to relationship troubles. ]
Phone: “Plenty more fish in the sea.”
[ Her mother always said that. ]
Laura reading a magazine, but looking away from the page, thinking.
[ But then again ... ]
[ Laura hadn't seen a single bug since ... the breakup. But she knew they had to be there. ]
Laura holding a can of bug spray, walking determinedly to the kitchen.
[ Hiding. ]
Wider panel. Laura in the kitchen, looking around.
[ Steve hadn't been so bad. ]
Laura shaking the can.
[ He'd just been a little fixated. ]
Laura crouching down on the kitchen floor.
[ In many ways he'd been the ideal boyfriend... ]
Wide panel showing the view from under the fridge out into the kitchen, where Laura is on her hands a knees looking, the spray can in her hand.
[ ... the problem had been that she'd lost the initiative in the relationship. ]
[Just like that book Steve had slept under said ... one type of flower should always be the centerpiece of an arrangement, or a relationship. ]
The book that Steve had slept under, reprised.
[ She just had be the main flower. ]
Laura on the kitchen floor, shaking the can again.
Laura: "I know you are all out there... "
Laura: " ... and I'm guessing you can hear me ... understand me."
"You all know what I have to offer ... "
"... and you all know what I'm capable of."
Large panel to finish showing Laura with a somewhat evil smile, pointing the can at the gap under the fridge.
"Well have I got the deal of a lifetime for one, and only one, of you!"
There you go. A love story (of sorts) between a woman and a cockroach. It's a script without a home, like so many others on this blog. So if there's an artist out there who's interested, drop me a line.