Human of the Year

HUMAN OF THE YEAR

INT. CATHEDRAL – DAY

Several large stained glass windows depicting the Virgin Mary and the apostles. The cathedral is illuminated and various members are dispersed throughout the pews. KARL is sitting in the fifth row to the left of the pulpit. SISTER MARIA and PRIEST are standing at the head, below a bronze statue of the Ten Commandments. PRIEST watches fondly as two young acolytes come up the pews and organ music begins. PRIEST tries unsuccessfully to speak above the music.

PRIEST

Hello…hello…

Organ music stops. PRIEST takes a drink of water.

PRIEST

This Wednesday, we will be commemorating the 7th year of our brotherhood with St. Demetrius’ in Appleton, West Virginia by planting a Spruce tree in the courtyard. Perhaps an apple tree would be more appropriate.

PRIEST laughs at his joke and quickly regains composure.

PRIEST

Sister Margaret is starting a new choral group for 7-12 year olds called ‘Sister Margaret and the Holy Sweet Merciful Blessed Descendents of Abraham.’ Also, I will be holding this week’s Young Men of the Lord club in the YMCA sauna. New members are always welcome. And now for the Lord’s Prayer.

SISTER MARIA taps PRIEST on the shoulder.

PRIEST
(distressed)
Oh, it seems I have forgotten something. Oh good gravy, to heck with it! Sister Maria, you do it.

SISTER MARIA
(bashfully)
Oh, no, no, no. Well, alright. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

SISTER MARIA kisses her fist and points up.



SISTER MARIA

Calling a Mr. Karl Projectorinski to the front of the cathedral.

ALL turn to KARL, whom is nervously clinging to the edge of his pew.

SISTER MARIA

Calling a…Karl Projectorinski…to the front…of the cathedral.

ALL are eerily chipper. WOMAN turns around to face him.

WOMAN

You have won, dear sir.

MAN extends his hand.

MAN

May I congratulate you first?

BOY

Oh, what an honor!

A moment of silence elapses. Finally KARL wipes his forehead and begins to speak.

KARL
(muttering)
What…what have I won?

WOMAN

Oh, the poor thing! What humility! Sweetheart, the contest is over. You don’t have to grace us with your charm any longer. You’ve won!

KARL

No, honestly I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.

PRIEST

Human of the Year, dear son.


SISTER MARIA

You have won!

PRIEST

All rise for the Hallelujah procession of communion!

ALL

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

PRIEST
(suspiciously)
Drink from the cup of life, Karl.

KARL takes communion. He returns and fidgets in his pew, repeatedly wiping the sweat from his brow. MAN sits beside him and places his hand on his upper thigh.

MAN

Why are you so scared? Listen, the icons are whispering to you.

KARL hallucinates that the stained glass figures are speaking to him.

APOSTLE PAUL

Right on. Way to be the chosen one, man.

APOSTLE JUDAS ISCARIOT

Psychedelic.

APOSTLE BARNABUS

Shut up, man. No one likes you.

KARL throws his shoe through the window, starting a car alarm. He shakily hides himself under the pew. BOY joins him.

BOY

They’re just old men, like on the benches in the park. Except their balding spots are glistening with gold.


PRIEST
(resting his hand on the boy)
Sweet, sweet wisdom of youth!

BOY
Listen, outside the cars are beeping in your honor! And…even though they do not know it…all mankind are now your brothers! You are the Human of the Year!


KARL
(suddenly excited)
I’m human of the year!

KARL begins crying, hugging WOMAN, etc.

KARL
I’m human of the year!

SISTER MARIA
(eerily)
Hello, hello. Calling a Karl Projectorinski to the front of the cathedral.

KARL is lulled by her voice, and makes his way to the front. He is weeping with joy. There are two acolytes on either side of SISTER MARIA. They begin beating KARL with their acolyte sticks. KARL winces in pain, and the rest stand motionless.

SISTER MARIA

You have won.

Every Three Seconds: in the works

Every three seconds, a child dies. But really, that's a fairly narrow-minded way to look at things. Every three seconds, children lay waste on hundreds of verb phrases. Children plow their way out of women's vagina's every three seconds. Children pet dogs and chase girls and ruin their aristocratic parents' social standing by spreading fleas every three seconds. They finger-paint and ribbon-dance and other things that are "creative" and "unconventional" because they're happy little hyphenated noun-verbs. They play psychological games like "who can give the most adults the most hemorrhages." And then, they grow up to be normal adults who do normal things like file tax returns and pretend not to notice when their wives gain weight every three seconds, but kids don't know that. Kids still think it would be fun to be a firefighter because firefighters wear red and are prominent figures in coloring books.

I was more like the three-second dead kid than any of the other three-second kids.

It wasn't that I was void of emotion, I was simply less susceptible to the mass conglomeration of stimuli that other children were bloated with. I did thing that my mother would label as "quirky", simply because she didn't have the vocabulary or the gall to call it like it was.

My parents weren't coffee drinkers, but after a particularly taxing day at the Metropolitan, my father made himself a cup in our hotel room.

"Can I have some?" My brother asked.
My parents chuckled that annoying adult-joke chuckle, and my father handed him the mug.
"That's disgusting," he said, quickly shoving it away.
"It's an acquired taste," my father explained. "Sometimes, you don't realize you like things at first, but later you begin to appreciate them."

For a few years following, I applied this concept to magazine and newspaper clippings. Particularly displeasing images remained tacked to my walls until family visited, and I was forced to remove them against my will. I would then replace them with equally displeasing fragments. In theory, I should have begun to admire these items with time. It soon became apparent to me that man was flawed and so were his theories.