MR. MOODYSLAV

By Chris Matyszczyk, 90 Pages

[Chapter 1 Excerpt]

CHAPTER ONE. MR. MOODYSLAV SAVES NEW YORK'S EMBARRASSMENT. (OR AT LEAST SOME OF IT.)

This is the story of a man who wasn't like any other man.

Nobody knew for sure whether he knew he wasn't like any other man. Because nobody ever asked him.

Which was OK, as far as he was concerned. Because he was concerned with very, very important things. Things that were far, far more important than himself.

He had a long beard. It varied in length, as he tried to trim it every once in a while. Sometimes it got so long that the very bottom tip of his beard scratched his chest. That was very irritating, like having a couple of pesky gnats nagging at you to change the channel on the TV when you're really happy sitting there watching Oprah.

Gnats prefer watching CNN, you see. Everybody knows that.

I should, by now, be telling you this man's name, because people who write books and review them aren't terribly patient about these things. But I haven't finished telling you what he looked like. So the experts will just have to wait.

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WHOSE FAULT IS IT?

By Chris Matyszczyk, 252 Pages

[Chapter 1 Excerpt]

Tim did not go to bars. Highly intelligent people don't. Not unless they're with ten other highly intelligent people who are just doing it for a bit of fun. A bit of studied, yet strangely ironic fun. Other people, which is supposed to mean everyone who is more stupid than me, of course, they go to bars for one of several reasons.

1. They have nowhere else to go.

2. They have no-one who wants to meet them.

3. They are ugly.

4. They have a desperate, all-encompassing need to get drunk. In public.

The public aspect of getting drunk should not be overlooked. When you're 58, and truly, irredeemably ugly in both body and soul, then you get drunk at home because no-one in their right mind- or left brain- wants to look at you. But in your late thirties, it's still cool to let other people see you make a fool of yourself. It's cool because there will always be a part of the bar spectator who will admire the man, or let's face it, the occasional heartbroken woman, who walks in, sits down, orders with the sure-mouthedness of a regular, and then proceeds with wholehearted gusto to pile far more alcohol down his throat than is healthy or even attractive. The spectator admires the drunk's courage. Even though the emotion that drives the majority of drunks is, strangely ironic this, fear. Fear of being disliked. Fear of being uptight. Fear of not being the life and soul of the party. Even when no bar is actually designed to resemble a party.

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Straight Bat

A Screenplay by Chris Matyszczyk

To get a copy of this screenplay please email Chris.