scene 1.

INT. RIVER’S APARTMENT - HALLWAY - MORNING

THOMAS SCOTT, early twenties and brown haired, dressed immaculately in a dark Armani suit, but with disheveled appearance highlighted by a sloppily loosened tie, carries a sleek black bag around his shoulder. He pounds on the bedroom door of RIVER GOLDBERG.

THOMAS
Open the goddamn door, River. Wake the fuck up!

Hissing sound from within.

THOMAS (CONT’D)
Open...the...fucking...door!

More hissing.

THOMAS (CONT’D)
Holy fucking shit, what are you doing in there?

A deep inhalation is heard from within. Thomas slowly opens the door and peers in. After he sees what River is doing, Thomas busts in the room.

CUT TO:

INT. RIVER’S ROOM - MORNING

Thomas enters. River, early twenties, blond, in t-shirt and boxers, sits on his bed and inhales nitrus out of a pink balloon that says GAY MEN’S HEALTH CRISIS in large black letters on the side. After inhalation, he immediately flops on his back and closes his eyes, as the whip-it and balloon fall out of his hand, onto the bed. Whip-it canisters lie by the bed.

THOMAS
Holy fucking shit. You disgust me.

RIVER
(eyes closed, dreamily)
Is it the whip-it, or the balloon?

THOMAS
You idiot. Do you know what you did?

RIVER
(opens his eyes)
Oh shit! I forgot to mail back the Netflix.

THOMAS
No, you ididot. Do you think I’d be here at ten AM, on my first day of work at Goldman Sachs, because you didnt return the godddamn Netflix?

RIVER
(closes his eyes again)
Is today your first day? I thought it was tomorrow.

THOMAS
Don’t you remember last night, at the dinner? How everyone toasted me, and said ‘Good luck tommorrow’?

RIVER
I thought they were talking about the drug test.

THOMAS
I was never gonna have a drug test!

RIVER
(opens his eyes, smiles)
That’s sweet, man.

Abrubtly, but in a methodical manner, Thomas bends down and slaps River across the face. River bolts upright in bed.

RIVER (CONT’D)
What the fuck, man? Are you out of your mind?

THOMAS
I should beat the shit out of you right now. I should beat you to death. Beat you to death in the bed you never even gotten out of today, you son of a bitch.

RIVER
What the fuck are you talking about?

Thomas pulls a piece of paper out of his bag and puts it right in front of River’s face.

THOMAS
Look at this.

RIVER
(looking intently)
That’s the picture of you taking a giant hit from our old five foot bong, in Ann Arbor. Old Binger Crosby, we called him. I do believe.

THOMAS
Exactly.

RIVER
Why’d you bring that into work on your first day?

Thomas suddenly back-hand slaps River across the face. River falls back to the bed like a fighter falling to the canvass.

THOMAS
I didn’t bring it into work, you, you - they fucking found this on your blog!

RIVER
(still on the canvass)
Who, Goldman?

THOMAS
No, your mom. Of course, Goldman! They fired me. They did a background check, the picture on your blog was one of the first things to pop up on Google.

RIVER
Oh, shit. I should have erased that.

THOMAS
I told you to erase it!

RIVER
You did?

THOMAS
Yes, I did. As soon as I got the job. And at least ten other times. And anyway, why'd you have to label it?

RIVER
Oh, the label is negligible. There are probably hundreds of Thomas Scotts in the world.

THOMAS
But you can see my face!

RIVER
It's blurry, though.

THOMAS
But you included my social security number! Why? Why would you do that?

RIVER
Oh, that’s right. I did. It seemed funny at the time. I’m sorry, Thomas. I mean, fuck.

THOMAS
Sorry? Sorry? You ruined my life. I have no job now. Therefore, I have no salary. Therefore, I can’t pay rent in my new place. Therefore, I’m homeless.

RIVER
Well, they do say it can happen to anyone.