Script ExerptsExcerpt of the Month:Turf WarThis is a scen...

Script ExerptsExcerpt of the Month:Turf War
This is a scene that takes place after 'odd gnome out' Shamus gets trapped by lawn flamingos (led by Floyd) across the road from the yard he belongs in. And because of it, prim proper neighbor Petunia finally meets slovenly sad sack neighbor Owen.
THANKS goes out to HILARY WALKER for her flamingo photograph. You can check out her work at redbubble.com

In the main garden, Mordecai gazes mortified across the road. Lined up on either side of him is the rest of the gnome community, all staring with open mouths at 
-SHAMUS- 

EXT. OWEN’S PLACE 

The flamingos sleep. Shamus twists and bends to pull his pinned trousers free, ends up mooning the gnomes across the road with smiley face boxers. 
Various gnomes gasp. Mothers shield the eyes of laughing pointing children. 
Shamus blushes, readjusts his trousers, sits back down humiliated. 
A CAR approaches. 
The flamingos bobble. 
The car closes in. 
The flamingos teeter. 
The car zooms up. An arm hangs out the window, cocked and loaded with a baseball. The rider whips that ball. 
Shamus sees the incoming pitch. He stretches for it, minding his pants. It’s a catch to make a short stop proud. Shamus grins until-- 
SCREECH!
The car skids to a stop. 
The flamingos startle awake. They look at the stopped car. 
A LONG HAIRED TEEN pokes his head out the passenger window, his eyes huge. 
LONG HAIRED TEEN Did you see that? 
DRIVER (O.S.) Dude! Absolute fail! 
LONG HAIRED TEEN No, man. The little gnome dude. He- 
The long haired teen scrutinizes those lawn ornaments. The flamingos stare, stone silent. Shamus sits like a well sculpted rock, the baseball on the ground beside him not far from the baseball pitched on the previous day.
The driver’s hand pokes out of the window and tousles the teens hair. 
DRIVER (O.S.) Weak arm, little bro. Team’s never going to let you pitch with a throw like that. 
LONG HAIRED TEEN No, he... It-... It’s my lucky ball. 
DRIVER (O.S.) Then go get it! Quick before someone sees you. 
The long haired teen steps out of the car. 
FLOYD Peck his eyes out! You hear me? Peck peck peck- 
EXT. PETUNIA’S PLACE 
The front door opens. Petunia steps out, hums a saccharine tune, a stack of mail in her hand. She stops short when she sees the long haired teen, who stops short when he sees her. 
The teen panics. He dives back for the car, slams the door behind him. The driver speeds away. 
Petunia shrugs. She heads for her mailbox. She stuffs the letters inside and flips up the flag. 
She spots the display of flamingos and gnome across the road, and squints at it in uncertainty. She cleans her glasses, squints through them again. 
LATER 
At the garden. Mordecai and the others perfectly still in their same line. Petunia kneels in front of them and paws them as she counts. 
PETUNIA One, two, three, four, five... 
LATER Still counting... 
PETUNIA (CONT’D) ...thirty seven thirty eight, thirty nine... 
LATER Still counting... 


PETUNIA (CONT’D) ...sixty! Sixty one, sixty two... 
LATER Still counting... 
PETUNIA (CONT’D) ...ninety eight, ninety nine... 
She looks around. Fingers fumble through roots, stems and dirt to come up empty. 
PETUNIA (CONT’D) Ninety nine. Hmph! 
EXT. OWEN’S PLACE 
Petunia’s hand raps against the door. Owen pulls it open. He stares through bleary eyes. Not a hello. Nothing. 
PETUNIA You have my gnome. 
Still nothing. Petunia points to the figurines. 
PETUNIA (CONT’D) My gnome. I collect them. I have a hundred, and there’s only ninety nine. I checked. 
Owen stares at the gnome among his flamingos, oblivious. He shrugs.
OWEN It’s yours? Take it. 
He tries to close the door, but Petunia won’t have it. 
PETUNIA Well, Mr. Grunion! How did he get there? 
OWEN Maybe the boyds[birds] did it. 
Petunia huffs as Owen tries to close the door again. 
PETUNIA Mr. Grunion! Mr. Grunion, did you take my gnome? 
He continues to stare, perplexed by her insistence. 
OWEN Look here, Mrs.- 
PETUNIA Miss. 
OWEN Miss. Miss... 
PETUNIA Petunia. I’m your neighbor across the street. 
She smiles and offers her hand. He ignores it. 
OWEN Miss Petunia- 
PETUNIA Whipple. Miss Whipple. Petunia Whipple. 
OWEN Miss Whipple? I have a very busy day. So you can take your gnome, and- 
PETUNIA And what? 
A snarl quivers in Owen’s upper lip. He gets it under control. 
OWEN A very busy day, ma’am. Please, take your gnome. 
PETUNIA It’s nice to finally- 
The door shuts.
PETUNIA (CONT’D) -meet. Oh. 
Disappointment evolves into being miffed. Petunia grumbles. She heads toward the road, oblivious to Owen watching her from between the slats of closed blinds. 
PETUNIA (CONT’D) What a rude man! Absolutely rude! 
She scoops Shamus up and continues her rant. 
PETUNIA (CONT’D) Every winter he migrates down here without so much as a “hello.” Not so much as a “nice to meet you, Miss Whipple. Can I borrow a cup of sugar?”
She stops beside her mailbox and notices that single, vibrant flower for the first time. 
PETUNIA (CONT’D) Will you look at that. I’d almost given up hope. 
Copyright. Diane M. Johnson. All rights reserved.