danes leaving and i have a story on his computer i wanna keep writing, so since i dont wanna print it and i have alost zero way to save it, im just goingto copy it on here. ignore it UNTITLED: 1. EXT. OUTSIDE FULVIO’S CAFÉ – NIGHT 1. Camera opens right outside of Fulvio’s café. Its roughly 3am and it just got done raining. Fulvio’s sits in the middle of a strip of stores on Main Street next to a Photography store, and on the other side a thrift store. The everything is closed so there aren’t any cars outside the buildings, and aside from the street lights the only thing lit up is the huge neon sign reading “FULVIO’s CAFÉ” and a light in the window saying “CLOSED” After a while a grey newer van pulls in front of the café and parks. Two buff Italian men get out of each door while one more opens the side doors carrying David out with him David has a white pillow case over his head, and on the case, around where David’s nose would be, are little specks of blood that seeped through. His hands are tied behind his back with a leather belt tight enough that his hands are purple. David isn’t struggling because he knows the inevitable lies ahead, but the 6’5 man who was in the back with him takes a firm grip onto his arm and walks him into the Café. 2. INT. FULVIO’S CAFÉ – NIGHT 2. Inside the café all the wooden chairs are put upside down onto the tables. There are pictures of Italian woman and cities on the walls and soft opera being played over the radio. David is being led to a table where Fulvio is sitting in a suit with his back to the door. The only lights aside from the glow of the closed sign that are on, is the dangling light above the table where he’s sitting. David gets brought opposite side of the table where the man gripping his arm takes off the belt holding his hands together. He bends him forward causing almost a perfect right angle with his body to take off the belt, so he doesn’t have to bend down and take it off in any way. When he’s done, he stands him up right and pushes him down into the chair that another man pulls out for him. When he sits, the man who pulled out the chair takes the pillow case off. David is a middle aged man about 37 years old. He’s out of breath from being beaten and dragged to this point. He wipes the blood from his nose then the sweat from his forehead while the whole time looking around the room and finally settling his eyes on Fulvio across from him. Fulvio is a 300lbs Italian man with dark slicked hair and a beard. He’s smoking a cigarette and on the table in front of him is a half empty wine bottle and his glass The man who took the belt off David puts the belt back on himself as him and the two other men stand behind David With a very deep, thick Italian accent, Fulvio sucks on a cigarette and says FULVIO: Im sorry about da theatrics. Had I knew how to get a hold of you, I would have called and invited you hear myself -- but with what I had available, I did da best I could David sits there still breathing heavy, looking around, not saying anything FULVIO: I haven’t seen you for two weeks, and da last time I did it wasn’t on da greatest of occasions for either of us – but you are here now. Let’s have a drink and talk about something that’s probably on both of our minds, eh? Fulvio raises his right hand slightly off the table for the first time and a waiter comes over to the table FULVIO: What will you be having to drink? Davit sits there thinking for a while and after wiping the blood from his nose again, he orders DAVID: A coffee Fulvio raises his hand once more never taking his eyes off David and the waiter walks off. As he’s behind the bar getting their drinks, Fulvio takes another puff of his cigarette, now practically gone. FULVIO: This one time, my cousin had went a little crazy and pointed his gun at my mother-- He takes the final puff of his cigarette then puts it out in an ash trey FULVIO: --he was mad at me, you know, for something I cant remember now, but it was only until he pointed da gun and pulled the trigger that he and my mother realized it wasn’t loaded. My mother tells me and I call for him much like I did you and here we were in this very room sitting across from each other. You can tell a lot about a man by what he orders to drink in da presence of an enemy, especially when they know it will probably be da last thing they drink. A coward would drink from the same bottle as me, a tough guy would order vodka or a mixed drink, a man who’s ready to face what he’s going to face would drink nothing, but you –- you order a coffee. I do not yet know what this means DAVID: I guess it’s a mixture of all three. I know what I’m going to get I probably disserve, but I’m gonna see if I can talk my way out of it ~roCK | 
