City park, homeless camping ground, dirty playground with grass growing out of the gravel. Old street benches have been dragged together under one tall pine tree.
WHALEFELLOW, 110, large beard, dressed in traditional sailor garb, and has a harpoon for a right arm. He has very few teeth and a fake eye which spins around without any rhythm or reason.
JORGE, 60, wears a raccoon cap and dirty overalls. He constantly massages his peg leg. His face is covered with red face paint.
WHALEFELLOW and JORGE sit on cobbled together park benches. Lying on their backs, they watch the snow fall down from the sky.
JORGE: Do you have a glass of water?
WHALEFELLOW: You ask me that, and in all honesty, I ask myself “what is up with that.”
JORGE: Nothing is up with that. I’m just thirsty.
WHALEFELLOW: So you say.
The moon moves out from behind the clouds and illuminates the park.
JORGE: I wonder how many people are starring at the moon? You know, right at this very moment.
WHALEFELLOW: I have no clue, buddy. Once, when I was starring at the moon, I saw a fish just fall from the sky. I mean, like dead and stuff. I’ve been alive for a long time and that was the only time I’ve ever seen a fish just fall out of the sky.
JORGE: Where were you?
WHALEFELLOW: It was back in the winter of the mermaid’s tail. I was still captain of the Blinded Wolf back then. I remember it clearly, was about to adjust the topsail and the fish just fell out of the sky. Dead.
JORGE: I hope that’s not a metaphor.
JORGE: Never mind.
The snow begins to fall with greater intensity, beginning to cover the bench that WHALEFELLOW and JORGE are lying on.
WHALEFELLOW: How many days until the summer solstice?
JORGE: The winter solstice has to come first. Don’t you remember?
WHALEFELLOW: I don’t think I even remember to remember anymore. I’m so cold.
JORGE :Aren’t we all?
WHALEFELLOW: No, you fucking panzy. I’m just actually really fucking cold.
SAHIR, 26, has dark eyebrows and eyelashes. Her beautiful brown eyes are the only things visible as every other part of her thin frame is hidden under a black burka. It is even hard to see that she is pregnant.
JORGE looks towards the other end of the park and sees a dark silhouette in the middle of the snow storm. The silhouette walks towards JORGE and WHALEFELLOW, and it becomes apparent that the figure is of a young lady dressed in a burka.
SAHIR: Can I sit here?
JORGE'S red face paint has started to drip off his face due to the wet snow.
JORGE: I have to go. I have finally witnessed the witness. I implore you all to do the same.
JORGE stands and walks into the snowy night, never even looking back.
WHALEFELLOW: What was up with that?
SAHIR: Sir, can I sit here?
WHALEFELLOW: I don’t see why not.
SAHIR sits down on the bench. The pair sit in silence, just watching the snow fall.
SAHIR: (Pointing to WHALEFELLOW'S harpoon arm) What happened to your arm?
WHALEFELLOW: I was chasing a Beluga way back when. If my memory serves me right, it was the year of the weeping llama. After a long chase the bastard got away, but not before he took my arm. So I replaced it with a harpoon. It just seemed like the practical thing to do.
SAHIR: Makes sense.
WHALEFELLOW: So, how far along are you?
WHALEFELLOW: You’re pregnant. When are you due?
SAHIR: How? How did you know?
WHALEFELLOW: Something about the air.
SAHIR: (pause) I’m so cold.