Job and the Burger

Here’s a scene that I wrote for my screenwriting class.  The prompt was that we needed to write a scene that reveals the flaw in the main character.  It could be no longer than 3 pages and had to have dialogue.  Can you guess who my protagonist is and what is his flaw?

(Note: the formatting is less than desirable here.  The first two caps (A BURGER and A MAN) are scene introductions.  The rest are dialogue, which i have painstakingly formated in the center.)



…Sits on a food tray. There are some fries and a drink next to it.

…Glares at the burger on the counter of the fast food restaurant, incredulous. The fools! 34 years old, JOB is a nuclear bomb, anger barely contained by the paper thin veil of society, ready to go of at any moment.

What’s this?

BRITTANY, 19, looks up from filing her nails. For Brittany, life is perpetually dull, and each day always proves more boring than the last.

You’re food, sir.

Job continues to glare at the burger, like it had just slapped him. He lifts up the bun. Lettuce. Lettuce.

This isn’t what I ordered.

You asked for lettuce.

Job screws up his face, and forces the red back down.

No, I didn’t. I hate lettuce. I asked for a burger without lettuce.

Brittany rolls her eyes and dramatically punches some keys on her computer like she was playing whack-a-mole. She turns her screen around so Job can see.

One burger. Ketchup, tomato, cheese. With lettuce.

Brittany goes back to filing her nails. Job stares at the screen.

Can you just make me another one?

Brittany pauses her filing.


Job’s hands begin to shake visibly. He breathes deeply. It isn’t working. A man behind Job taps him on the shoulder. Job turns to see fat, middle aged man with his equally fat family standing behind him.

Sir, just take your damn burger. We’re hungry too.

Job roars like a lion. He grabs the food tray and smashes it on the counter, fries flying like shrapnel from an IED.
He lifts the tray up and smashes the man in the side of his face. The man goes down among the raining fries.

The man’s family cries in fright and his wife tries to tend to him.

Job throws the tray like a frisbee and pegs the man at the drive-through window in the back of the head.


Job pulls a revolver from a pocket inside his jacket and fires a round into the air. The bullet strikes the ceiling and chalky dust covers Job’s face, making him even more terrifying.

The other patrons make a mad dash for the exits. Job hears them running and spins around. He does his best to point his gun at all of the dozen patrons.


Job points his gun at a frightened, college aged woman by the door.  Not so fast!




Job spins back around to Brittany, who has dropped her nail file and is staring at Job like a deer in headlights. This is the best day of her life.

Ok. Ok! Here!

She reaches behind her and grabs a new burger. She opens it up and removes the lettuce, and then hands it to Job.
Job puts it back on the tray.


Brittany gives him some fries. Job glances quickly between his food and Brittany, and then nods.
He holds the food to his chest like a bag of money from a bank heist, and slowly backs away, randomly pointing his gun at people behind the counter.

Good, thank you. Good.

Job sits down at a table and places his food in front of him. Everyone is eyeing him nervously.

It’s ok. We’ll all be alright. Sit down and eat. I got my burger.

Everyone hesitantly sits down and eats. Job smiles happily at his food and takes a bite. We can hear sirens in the distance, steadily approaching, like a distant storm.

It has begun…

And it’s about time, really.  Indeed, I haven’t blogged or written anything that was not academically inclined for many a fortnight.  With my busy schedule I had no time for anything.  Near the end of last semester I had even sequestered myself in my chambers for nearly TWO whole days writing a paper for my ancient paganism class:

My penultimate moment of inspiration...a moment that changed me forever

A class which incidentally had far more to do with early Christianity than anything awesome like druids, babylonians, satanists or etc.  On top of that, I was heavily involved in a valiant but terrible ultimate frisbee teams, and maybe even attended HALF of the games.  Each time i didnt go, y incredible skill brain was sorely missed.

Master tactician that I was, I always played with my head

Any normal human would at this point be so swamped with work that he or she would contemplate ending it all and working at McDonald’s, but not me.  I still found time to play a disgusting amount of video games, work my fingers to the bone at a job that would have much higher productivity if the entire student staff was traded in for poorly trained orangutans, watch two full seasons of dexter, blow $2000 on stuff and verbally abuse nearly everyone I know, because i felt like it.  I eventually became so busy that I pushed through the barrier of Infinitely Busy and came out the other end into a state of doing absolutley nothing; I was so busy that i had nothing to do.  If this makes no sense go take some physics classes at MIT and then you tell me who’s right.

"He's right you know"

But so far this semester, i have had more free time than something that has alot of free time.  A rock or something.  Maybe a fox.  I could see foxes having lots of free time for some reason.  I had more free time than a fox, so i figured that it was high time i started blogging again.  Not that anyone ever reads what i post anyway, more that by the act of blogging itself I become a less bored person and can at least pretend that my opinions are relevant.  After all, my pages are hosted on the internet.  Who else can claim such a ting?  I had grown tired at the other site I previously used.  Blogspot or whatever.  The formating was fail, as were the customization options and the user base.  Additionally , since I was able to get ads on my website, I felt that I had sold out, which made me angry.  And since I never made any money from these ads, I felt I had chosen a poor place to sell out, which made me even angrier.  So I began to fantasize about greener blogging pastures.  Amazingly, when I went to work last week, some coworkers were discussing blogging, and mentioned that they both used wordpress.

“WordPress…” I thought to myself outloud.  They both stopped talking and turned to look at me.  “Yes…of course!  Wordpress!  Its so simple!  HAHAHAHAHAHAH!”  Needless to say this sudden revelation had a twofold effect: I found a fantastic new website to host my indecipherable ravings, and I was able to take command of the good chair at work because the girl I was working with had come to believe I was completely insane.  I was all set to embark upon a new adventure of writing, to sail the golden seas of creativity in the HMS imagination… until i began to watch the tudors and completely forgot about blogging until I arrived at work today.

Before I get to the thing that inspired this incredible post, that is, other then my usual inspiration (heavy metal music), I suppose i should answer a glaring question: Why the Corngoblin?  The answer is simple: During a high school track meet, James and I created the mythical “Corngoblin” in order to amuse ourselves, commenting on other runners by saying things like “He runs as swiftly as the Corngoblin!” etc.  The corngoblin later evolved into a goblin that gobbles corn, and then into a long running joke between nick, james and myself.  Most recently, I have used it for an account name for Xbox live and several online games.  Nick has even drawn a picture of him!  The corngoblin is funny because it makes no sense whatsoever.

So anyway, I was going through everyone’s status’s on facebook because I am creepy and that’s what creepy people do, when I came across a particular status that drew my attention.  A friend of mine had deleted most of his facebook friends who he either didn’t know or didn’t care to hear about; a novel idea in this day and age.  He kept only people who meant something to him in some way or another.  And this got me thinking.  Does anyone actually believe that they are friends with all of their facebook friends?   Is there some poor soul who, after his or her first week of college, gets a call from his or her mother and proudly claims “Why yes, I have made friends.  2,387 in fact.  You can see them on my facebook!”  That would be pure insanity.

They say a picture is worth 1,000 words.  I say a picture of insanity wolf is worth 10,000 years of madness.  In short, people probably do have too many facebook friends, but dont worry, i probably wont drop you any time soon.  Probably…

Lastly, heres a short story i wrote for german.  Dont speak german?  TOO BAD.

Die Tragödie der Bananafingers

Bananafingers hat in den Spiegal angestarrt.  Sie war hässlich, und keine Männer haben sie geliebt, weil sie hattet Bannanen für Finger.  Sie, aber, hattet einen Entwurf: wenn alle leute haben Bananen für Finger, dann sie schön würdet. Plötzlich, Hamburgerface hat das Zimmer eingegeben.

“Bananfingers, was ist unrecht?”  Hamburgerface hat gesagt.

“Keine Männer lieben mich, weil ich so hässlich bin!” Bananfingers hat geschrien.  Sie hat den Spiegal mit ihre aasige Hände geschlagen, der ist nicht brach ab weil der Finger zu leicht war.

“Oh mein Bananafingers, du bist schön in dein eigen besondere Weg!  Wer noch kann ihre Finger essen?  Du haßt die appetitlichsten Finger in die ganze Welt!” Hamburgerface hat gesagt.  Neue Tränen sind in Bananafinger’s Augen geformt; Tränen der freude.

“Oh Hamburgerface, du wisst immer wie mich Lächeln machen!  Dass ist warum ich liebe dich.” Sie hat gesagt.  Hamburgerface hat geworden gegen Bananafingers mit Traurigkeit an seiner Gesischt.

“Oh Bananafingers, ich könnte dich nie lieben.”


“Weil… Weil du Bananen für Finger hast!”


I know,  I cry every time i read it too.

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