A Day in the Life of Simon Kennedy

Act One

SCENE: SIMON'S OFFICE, INT., DAY.

SIMON KENNEDY walks in, looking troubled. He carries a briefcase, stuffed with who-knows-what. His hat has been put on haphazardly, and his eyes show signs of insomnia. Simon is approached by his coworked, ROY.

ROY
Simon, you look troubled. What's up?

SIMON
Roy, you have no idea what I'm going through. I'm hanging on the edge of unemployment--I've got one foot in the grave and another on a banana peel, if you know what I mean.

ROY
Oh, my... Sorry about that, Simon.

SIMON
Simon sighs. It's like I wasn't meant to work in insurance.

ROY
Well, was there anything you've ever wanted to do?

SIMON
Simon sighs once more. Well, when I was a child, I always wanted to go to space... but of course, college came along, and so did the student debt...

ROY
Roy shakes his head, disapprovingly. Simon, you can't blame all of your problems on money. Besides, you're being well paid right now, right?

SIMON
I know, Roy, I know! ... Simon turns his head in shame. I need to leave, Roy. I'm already on the chopping block, and I might as well get it over with. I've gotta go see the boss.

Simon walks away. Roy extends his hand, as if to stop him, but takes his hand back. He knows what must be done.

SCENE: MR. DELUISE'S OFFICE, INT., DAY.

Simon walks into his boss' office. MR. JONATHON DELUISE is at his own desk, hunched over and stamping papers for no specific reason.

SIMON
Simon approaches Mr. DeLuise. Excuse me, ah-

DELUISE
Simon! Great to see you! Mr. DeLuise straightens his posture. So what is this about, anyhow?

SIMON
Mr. DeLuise... I know what's going on.

DELUISE
Hm? Mr. DeLuise's face shows signs of true confusion. I've no idea what you're talking about, Mr. Kennedy.

SIMON
Mr. DeLuise... Simon sighs, and takes a couple seconds to gain composure. Mr. DeLuise, I'm quitting the job.

DELUISE
Simon... I guess you were aware. I have been cutting your salary recently. Mr. DeLuise adjusts his glasses. It's your insomnia, Mr. Kennedy. You've been getting no sleep recently, and your job has been affected because of it.

SIMON
I am quite aware, Mr. DeLuise.

DELUISE
Simon, I'm not stopping you from quitting the job. I'm just telling you if you don't get your insomnia problem dealt with, your pay will suffer.

SIMON
Mr. DeLuise... I'm being serious. I quit.

DELUISE
Mr. DeLuise sighs. He closes his eyes. Well, Simon... I'll file the papers in an hour. Please clear your desk.

SIMON
Yes, sir. Simon turns away from Mr. DeLuise. It's been an honor... to work for you, Mr. DeLuise.

Simon exits the room.

DELUISE
Mr. Kennedy... you were a good man.

Mr. DeLuise takes out a small flask from his desk and takes a swig from it.

SCENE: LAND FUTURE INSURANCE, EXT., DAY.

Simon exits the building, wearing his business suit and carrying his briefcase. He stops for a bit to fix his hat, and then starts off toward his house. Suddenly, he bumps into a very intimidating THUG. Simon falls over.

THUG
Hey! What the hell you want, old man?

SIMON
Simon gets up. He puts his hat back on. I'm very sorry, sir. I was in a hurry, sorry-

THUG
Man, you bumped into the wrong person. Now hand over your money and I might not hurt you.

SIMON
Sir, I'm broke, I have no-

THUG
Yelling. Give me your money!

SIMON
Yelling. I don't have any money!

THUG
... I see.

The thug approaches Simon. Simon starts to run, but the thug quickly catches up and stabs him in the throat. Simon falls to the ground, gasping for air. The thug searches Simon's wallet and grabs the change inside. The thug spits on Simon before walking off. Simon starts crawling toward a payphone, yet falls dead a few inches short. Simon stops breathing.

SCENE: SIMON'S HOUSE, INT., NIGHT.

TORY KENNEDY is on her bed, on the phone. She looks distressed, with a box of tissues nearby. She is crying, choking out words through sobs.

TORY
Officer... p-please! He's not d-dead, is he?

OFFICER
On the phone. I'm afraid he was killed, ma'am. Found dead outside his office.

TORY
Who did this? Yelling. Who did this?!

OFFICER
On the phone. We're trying to find who it was. The killer left prints on the wallet.

TORY
No! No, it can't be right-

OFFICER
On the phone. I'm very sorry. You may want to arrange the funeral.

The officer hangs up from the other end. Tory drops the phone and buries her head in her pillow, wailing.

END ACT ONE