To Save Nobody

The strip club, the morning-after version — neon buzzing in daylight, the party's ghost. TELLY pushes in, and he's changed: road-worn, older, the too-big letterman jacket fitting now, moving with the shifty, slippery cool he learned to earn a clue. He's followed the thread all the way to the water. Slouched by the back door, mellow and eternal, is the WEED DEALER — a Lotus-Eater who's seen everyone come through and watched most of them stay.

TELLY — I'm looking for my brother. Shifty guy. Number zero. They call him Nobody.

DEALER (slow, unbothered) — ...oh, him. Yeah. Yeah, Calypso took a shine. (nods up the hill) Took him up to the soft place. The real nice place. (a drag) Where nobody ever leaves, man.

TELLY (already turning toward the hill) — Watch me.

The number kicks — propulsive, running-toward, the kid who's become a hero.

Button. TELLY takes off up the hill into the neon dark, running. The DEALER watches him go, and something almost like wonder crosses his mellow face — the loneliness of the whole show, answered in one line: "...huh. Somebody actually came for Nobody." (a drag) "...didn't think that ever happened." Blackout on Telly running toward the rescue.