The Man to whom Nothing Interesting Happens in:
Mischief at the Pie Factory
an original screenplay

A tramp, dressed in patched and dirty clothes is walking through a desolate-looking depression-era cityscape. He walks past a breadline.
Tramp: Another uneventful day in my life. Woe is me.
He happens upon a boarded-up store front, onto which a man is posting a small sign, which reads as follows.

JOBS AVAILABLE
Honest Pay for Honest Work
Able-Bodied Men Needed
Apply Within

The tramp reads the sign, and then excitedly inquires about the nature of the work to the man posting the sign. He can hardly contain his excitement, and vigorously pumps the sign-poster's arm up and down. The sign-poster shrugs, then points to the pie factory. The tramp thanks him profusely, then meanders off in the general direction of the factory, with a newfound spring in his step. He enters the factory through a large iron gate, and demands to speak to the foreman.
Foreman: Are you inquiring about the poster?
Tramp: Yes.
There is a huge explosion off-screen. The foreman looks to the source of the explosion, then back at the tramp.
Foreman: I think that something may have just opened up.
Both walk off, and the camera cuts to the foreman telling the tramp of his new duties.
Foreman: The pies come out of this machine here. You pick them up, and carry them to the truck.
He pantomimes carrying the pies to the truck.
Foreman: Do you think you can handle the work?
Tramp: You can count on me, sir.
The foreman smiles, and walks off.
Foreman: Oh, I almost forgot. You'll also be wearing these roller skates, and we'll be gradually speeding up the machine, presumably with humorous consequences.
The tramp does a double-take?
Tramp: Wha-wha-what?
Foreman: Unless you'd prefer not to have the work.
Tramp: No, sir. You can count on me.
He speaks aloud to himself.
Tramp: This looks like an opportunity for a hilarious mishap!
He walks to a crate of pie crusts, sits on top of it, and puts on his skates. He skates across the floor to the machine, just as the first pie emerges. He picks up the pie, skates across to the truck, and sets it down.
Tramp: That was easy enough.
He picks up another pie, and skates back to the truck. This time, when he returns to the machine, there are two pies waiting for him. He holds one pie in each hand, and carries both to the truck without incident. The next time, there are four pies. The number gets larger each time, until there are about twenty pies. He carries ten in each hand, and sways precariously back and forth as he carries them to the truck. He doesn't fall, but nearly bumps into a man standing near the truck.
Truck Driver: So you're the new guy, eh?
Tramp: Yes, sir.
Truck Driver: Now let me tell you a thing or two about how this place is run. Your high-falootin' Harvard graduate degree. It don't mean nothin' here. I say get the pies, and you get the pies. Got it?
Tramp: But I was getting the pies.
Truck Driver: Are you a-sassin' me? Because if you are, I oughta give you a licking.
He walks slowly towards the tramp, pounding his clenched fist against the open palm of his other hand.
Tramp: No, sir. Just trying to rectify a misunderstanding.
The truck driver's demeanor instantly changes to very serious and businesslike.
Truck Driver: I'm sorry. I was just making sure that you were aware of your duties. Carry on.
The tramp returns to his machine, which is totally overflowing with pies.
Tramp: How can I possibly transport this many pies? It will require some great feat of manual dexterity! I sure hope I don't fall! Wink, wink.
His thoughts are interrupted by the foreman, who enters.
Foreman: I just made a huge batch of banana cream pies, and need to put these peels on the floor. I hope you understand.
The foreman scatters banana peels throughout the room. He then exits, and the tramp goes about doing his job again. He picks up an obscene number of pies, balancing several on his head, as well as in both of his hands. He maneuvers through the banana peels very carefully, as if through a mine field. Slowly and laboriously, he makes it safely to the other side of the room, and loads the pies into the truck. As he does so, the camera cuts to a whistle blowing steam, signifying that the work day is over. The tramp continues working, as the other workers begin filing out past the tramp, who is approached by an old man.
Old Man: Hey there, sonny. Why are ya workin' overtime?
Tramp: What else would I be doing?
Old Man: Now that ain't no way to be. Why the long face, buddy?
Tramp: Sometimes my life seems so mundane.
Old Man: We all get those feelings sometimes. That's why the Good Lord invented a little thing called faith.
The tramp looks reflective for a moment. His face lights up.
Tramp: Did you say "Good Lord?"
Old Man: Why, yes I did. Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. He descended from heaven, and taught peace, love, and harmony.
Tramp: That's it!
The tramp runs out of the factory, and to a church. He runs in as a sermon is progressing.
Preacher: And we will lift up our hands to the Lord and He will take the weight of our problems, and He will show us the true and righteous path.
The tramp runs outside and ascents to the top of a mountain. He drops to his knees, throws out his arms, and looks to the heavens.
Tramp: Oh Lord in Heaven. Is this all there really is? Am I condemned to a life of mind-numbing tedium? Cease this relentless mockery! Just end my misery now and strike me dead where I lie!
He looks at the overhead storm clouds, but nothing happens. He shrugs and walks away.
Tramp: Aw, shucks!

CURTAIN

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