Bob the Tumor (1 of 4)

Scene: Mike’s Bedroom

(in black)
BOB: Wake up.
(open on Mike in his bed, waking to the sound of Bob’s voice)
MIKE: Hello? (sits up)
BOB: Hello, Michael.
MIKE: Who is this? (begins searching closet, rooms, etc) Who the hell’s talking to me?
BOB: I am.
MIKE: Where are you? How’d you get inside my house?
BOB: I’m not inside your house.
MIKE: What?
BOB: I’m inside you.
MIKE: ...what?
BOB: This is your sickness speaking.

Scene: Mike’s Kitchen

(Mike in the middle of making coffee, starts the machine, grabbing milk and pouring it into a cup with a cartoon picture of Santa Claus on the side)
BOB: You need to buy milk. That jug’s gone bad.
MIKE: No it hasn’t.
BOB: It’s past the expiration date.
MIKE: That doesn’t mean it’s bad. It doesn’t smell bad. Besides, I need it for my coffee.
BOB: Very well. What are we doing?
MIKE: (puts up milk, closes fridge door) I’m getting ready for work; you’re going to the back of my head.
BOB: You don’t believe me when I tell you what I am?
MIKE: Of course not, I’m just stressed. I need a shower, just gotta wake up.
BOB: You know the shower won’t help, right? I’m not in your hair.
MIKE: Uh huh.
BOB: You were stressed yesterday and I wasn’t here.
MIKE: (exiting towards his room) It’s a build-up of stress.

Scene: Jogging Trail

(Mike runs alone down trail in jogging shorts. Bob’s voice sounds in his head)
BOB: You might want to ease up a bit.
MIKE: I’m fine. I always sweat like this.
BOB: You always have headaches like this too?
MIKE: Shut up. (clicks volume up on iPod)

Scene: Mike’s Bathroom

(Mike in shower, shot from chest up, soap in his eyes as he washes it away, gets ready to step out, pulls curtain open. First reveal of Bob in human form, sitting on bathroom counter, feet in sink, staring at Mike)
BOB: Don’t forget to wash the soap out of your ears. You always forget.
MIKE: Son of a bitch! (slips and falls in attempt to cover self, grabs back brush and holds out like sword) Who the hell are you? Get the hell out of my house, I swear to God—
BOB: (laughing) Whoa whoa whoa! Hold on there, partner, it’s just me.
MIKE: Y-you...
BOB: Figured having a more physical presence would be easier to relate to.
MIKE: Great, my delusions are growing more complex. (Stands up) Just great.
BOB: You still got some soap—
MIKE: (pulling curtain closed) Shut up!

Scene: Outside Mike's Apartment

(Mike exits front of his apartment and locks door. Bob stands beside his car. Looks at back of car.)
BOB: You know you should get that taillight fixed.
MIKE: I’m aware of that. (gets into car, adjusts cracked rear view mirror. Bob appears in back seat)
BOB: You’re gonna get a ticket.
MIKE: (jumps in shock) Something else I’m aware of. (slaps down mirror so he can’t see Bob)
BOB: (in front seat beside Mike) You should fix that mirror.
MIKE: I’ve been meaning to.
BOB: About as long as you’ve been meaning to finish your novel?
MIKE: (pause, looks to Bob then starts car) Whatever.
(Bob sits in silence, as if contemplating. Mike stares at him in rearview mirror)
MIKE: Nothing to say?
BOB: I just realized something.
MIKE: What?
BOB: You forgot to take your coffee.
(Both sit without speaking. Very uncomfortable)

Scene: Break Room

(Charlie walks up to Mike, slaps him roughly on the back. Mike spits mouthful of sandwich on table as reflex)
CHARLIE: Hey, Mike!
MIKE: (gasping) Hey, Charlie.
CHARLIE: Ready for the big presentation today?
MIKE: (In exaggerated ‘Bro’ voice) Of course—
BOB: (Hovering around the two, still in Van Halen shirt) No you’re not.
MIKE: —you better watch yourself, Charlie, cause I’m feeling great, and I plan on snatching one of those internship spots.
BOB: (stares at Mike, tilts head) What are you doing? Why are you talking like that?
CHARLIE: You and me both, man. I’ll go easy on ya, though—
BOB: No he won’t.
CHARLIE: —guys like us always stick together.
BOB: No you don’t.
CHARLIE: (stands from table) Come on, already ate. Hurry up and finish. We can walk back to the office. That way people might think you’re important since you’ll be seen with me! (slaps Mike’s back again)
MIKE: (spits second bite of sandwich out. Looks up to see Bob staring) I’m sure it’ll go great.
BOB: Of course it will. (pause. Picks up chewed piece of sandwich and sticks it under Mike’s face) Come on...
MIKE: (slaps away Bob’s hand)

Scene: Boardroom

(Mike in the middle of a presentation, begins to sweat, starts to have trouble focusing)
MIKE: And as you can see from the projected quarterly outputs, the sales profit has increased—uh, increased exponentially…
BOB: Feeling tired?
MIKE: From the quota you can see the sales profit has increased exponentially comp—compared to last year’s…quota…
BOB: Maybe you should sit down?
MR. HARPNER: Mike, are you okay? You look really pale.
MIKE: I’m fine, Mr. Harpner…I’m fine.
CHARLIE: Maybe you should sit down, Mike. I can handle it from here.
MIKE: I’m okay, Charlie. You stick with what you know…
CHARLIE: I’m sorry?
MIKE: Always…trying to take my ideas…my things…f—fucking thief…
BOB: Maybe you should sit down, Mike? Before you fall.
MIKE: My internship…
(Mike drops to the ground, unconscious)
BOB: I warned you.
---
(Mike wakes, with Mr. Harpner standing over him
MR. HARPNER: Mike? Mike, are you okay?
MIKE: M..Mr. Harpner? Wha…what happened?
BOB: You pissed your pants and passed out.
MIKE: Did I piss my pants?
MR. HARPNER: Yeah, Mike, you did. Then you passed out.
MIKE: And how’d that go?
MR. HARPNER: It was interesting, I’ll give you that.
BOB: Maybe you should go to the hospital?
MR. HARPNER: Maybe you should go to the hospital, Mike.
MIKE: Maybe I should.
BOB: You should.

Scene: Dr. Swanson’s Office

(Mike takes a seat in front of Dr. Swanson. Bob takes the seat beside him, wearing an exaggerated lab coat and stethoscope)
DR. SWANSON: Mr. Swan, I’m Dr. Swanson.
MIKE: Really?
DR. SWANSON: Yes.
MIKE: Okay then.
---
DR. SWANSON: Well, Mr. Swan, the results of the scan shouldn’t be in for a while. I’ll call you in the morning.
(The two stand. Mike and Dr. Swanson shake hands)
MIKE: Thanks, Doc.
DR. SWANSON: It’s Dr. Swanson.
MIKE: Of course.
DR. SWANSON: My nurse will have your bill up front.
MIKE: This is covered by my insurance, right?
DR. SWANSON: Some of it, yes.
MIKE: Shit.
DR. SWANSON: What was that, Mr. Swan?
MIKE: Nothing, Doc, I appreciate your time.
DR. SWANSON: It’s Dr. Swanson.
MIKE: I know.

Scene: Convenience Store

(Sam looks up from register and waves at Mike’s approach)
SAM: (in terrible English accent) Goo’ evenin’, Mike!
BOB: Whoa! Who’s the pretty girl? (stares at Sam and Mike, listening to their banter)
MIKE: (sets his items on the counter) Hey Samantha. What’s with the accent?
SAM: Ah, I don’ know what’cha talkeen’ ‘bout. This be me normal voice.
MIKE: Come on now.
SAM: (fake pout) Party pooper.
MIKE: It’s a gift. So what’s the deal?
SAM: Just something I’ve been trying with customers I haven’t had before.
MIKE: Cute. I didn’t know you worked today.
SAM: I always work today.
MIKE: (fake shock) Really? I had no idea.
SAM: Course you didn’t. So how’re things?
MIKE: Good…good. You know, as good as they can be.
SAM & BOB: Liar.
MIKE: Yep.
SAM: Weren’t you in here Tuesday?
MIKE: Yeah, but I needed some things to tide me over for the weekend.
SAM: Like a gallon of milk?
BOB: Aren’t you glad you listened to me?
MIKE: And the Juicy Fruit, don’t forget that.
SAM: Oh, how could I?
BOB: Flirting, I like it.
(Mike shushes Bob. Sam looks up, confused)
SAM: What was that?
MIKE: No, I was…talking to someone else—never mind.
SAM: Okay…the total will be $3.87.
MIKE: Here you go.
SAM: Thank you, and here’s your change.
MIKE: Alright, I’ll see you Tuesday, or...whenever I need more milk.
SAM: See ya soon.

Scene: Mike’s Bedroom

(Bob makes a running leap onto Mike’s bed. Turns around and posses)
BOB: Well today was a fun day, wasn’t it? Pissing your pants at work, full body scans, almost made a real audible connection with that Samantha girl.
MIKE: Are you going to be doing this all night?
BOB: Until you fall asleep, sure.
MIKE: Then I best get to work on that. Get off my bed.
(MIDDLE OF NIGHT)
BOB: (sitting on chair across from Mike’s bed) Hey, Michael.
MIKE: I thought we agreed you’d stop bothering me when I’m in bed.
BOB: I just want to ask you something, don’t bite my head off.
MIKE: Fine…what is it?
BOB: Are you worried about the scan results?
MIKE: I’m trying not to think about it.
BOB: How do you manage that?
MIKE: I don’t know. I think talking to you all the time helps.
BOB: Really?
MIKE: Yeah.
BOB: You know I’m the whole reason for the scan, right? And anything it shows.
MIKE: I know.
BOB: Fucked up, ain’t it?
MIKE: It sure is.
(SCENE FAST FORWARDS TO MORNING)
(Bob runs onto Mike’s bed. Jumps onto edge, bouncing up and down)
BOB: Wake up, Michael! Wake up.
MIKE: Ugh…
BOB: Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up—
MIKE: Alright, alright! God…I’m up.
(Mike gets up, walks towards bathroom)

Scene: Running Trail

(Mike slow jogging along trail for a few seconds. Glances back to see Bob following at matched pace. Mike scoffs and picks up pace. Bob does as well. Mike looks back again and starts at a sprint. Bob follows. Mike begins to smile)
Bob: You can’t run from your brain, Mike!
(Mike laughs and trips suddenly, flying onto the ground. Bob speeds by, then backs up in a backward jog)
Bob: See?

Scene: Mike’s Bathroom
(Mike steps out of shower)
BOB: You forgot to wash your ears again.
MIKE: (turns around) I’m getting back in…

Scene: Mike’s Kitchen

BOB: Got everything?
MIKE: Yep. (individual montage shot of each item as Mike makes inventory, starting with Santa Cup) Coffee, keys, phone, wallet…(pause of Mike’s hand hovering over empty space) wait, no, missing my wallet.
(cut out to Mike and Bob sitting on couch. Mike’s hand still hovers over empty space)
BOB: You forgot your wallet?
MIKE: Guess so.
BOB: You never forget your wallet.
MIKE: I know...

Scene: Outside Mike’s Apartment

(Mike enters car. Bob sits in seat beside him. Mike sets down Santa Cup, pulls out a pair of sunglasses and puts them on. Thin shades. Notices Bob staring at him)
MIKE: What?
BOB: Oh, it’s nothing, I just didn’t realize you were on a mission to kill John Connor. (bursts out laughing)
MIKE: (smiles) Shut up. (tosses glasses at Bob and pulls out new set of shades. Larger and cover up half his face) Better?
BOB: Oh yeah. I like ‘em.
(Mike puts care in drive)
BOB: I just hope you’re willing to take a bullet for the president. (both laugh)

Scene: Outside Stairwell

(Mike sits on bottom step of stairway chewing gum. Charlie comes up slowly from behind)
CHARLIE: (slaps Mike hard on back, again, Mike spits out gum towards screen from the force) So Mike, how’s it going, Broskie?
BOB: (sliding down railing) Broskie?
MIKE: Hey, Charlie. (unwraps new piece of gum)
BOB: (leaning between the two) Did he just call you ‘Broskie’?
CHARLIE: So you get any info about the internship?
MIKE: Nope, not yet, still waiting.
CHARLIE: Hopefully you find out soon; there’s two spots left now and I need someone to pick up my slack.
BOB: Funny.
MIKE: You got a position? Congrats, man. Good luck, too.
CHARLIE: Lucks got nothing to do with it, Mike, I run on pure talent. Bam!
MIKE: (mutters) You run on something, all right.
(Mike’s phone rings. He checks the ID and stands from the table)
CHARLIE: What’s that?
MIKE: Nothing. Look, I gotta take this call, it’s the hospital, be back in a minute.
CHARLIE: Oh don’t worry about it, I’m done eating; first as always.
MIKE: Yep.
CHARLIE: Well good luck, man, hope it’s nothing serious.
MIKE: Thought you said luck had nothing to do with it.
CHARLIE: Well, not with me.
Mike: Ha
Bob: What a douche.
(Shot from side. See Mike walking under stairs, Charlie heading up, and Bob sliding further down)
DR SWANSON: Mr. Swan?
MIKE: Hey Doc—
DR. SWANSON: It’s—
MIKE: —ter Swanson.
DR. SWANSON: Oh.
MIKE: What were you saying?
DR. SWANSON: Never mind.
BOB: (off-screen) Nice one.
DR. SWANSON: I have your report here, Mr. Swan. We can go over the basics over the phone if you wish but I’ll need you to come in to schedule a follow-up so we can go over the results in detail.
MIKE: A follow-up? (slow zoom in on Mike’s face begins)
DR. SWANSON: That’s correct.
BOB: (off-screen) This is how it starts.
MIKE: Just tell me.
DR. SWANSON: It’s bad, Mr. Swan.
(Mike places his hand over his mouth, runs a hand through his hair)
MIKE: Bad? How bad is ‘bad’?
DR. SWANSON: ‘Bad’ is very bad.
MIKE: That’s bad.
DR. SWANSON: It’s cancer.
(Silence. Just Mike’s reaction shot. Sound returns)
MIKE: What kind?
DR. SWANSON: Of the brain.
MIKE: Br...brain cancer? (looks back towards Bob)
DR. SWANSON: That’s right. It’s currently in Stage Two. Now this is a bit more serious, but still localized, which means we can treat it if we act quickly. I’ll give you a referral for a treatment center and start arranging things with your insurance.
MIKE: Okay. This isn’t so bad though, right? I mean it’ll go away, long as we treat it?
DR. SWANSON: I’m afraid it doesn’t always work that way, Mr. Swan. I’ve gotten in touch with a treatment center you can contact. They have an appointment slot available for 2pm tomorrow, is that acceptable?
MIKE: Yeah. Sure...I, uh, I’m gonna have to call you back. (cuts off phone before Dr. Swanson can reply)