Nothing....and Beer

Voice in darkness: No sooner had the stars begun to shine, than the stars began to fall. The first, the brightest, was the morning star. (A star appears, shines brightly, alone. Slowly, other stars begin to appear.) The star was proud of its brightness. But, a star cannot create other stars. Its purpose is to provide light, and it is forever in service of that Light. Since the bright proud star could not fill the sky with his own light, he set the sky ablaze with shooting stars. (The sky is full of stars. The bright star becomes even brighter, then becomes a shooting star.) And half of heaven fell…..it fell with Lucifer, the morning star.

Fade in to a park bridge, Central Park, at night, a star is falling.

Old man: Make a wish, it's a falling angel. His wings lose their magic while falling, so there's just enough magic in the air for people to wish.

Child: What should I wish for grandpa?

Child looks confused, as if thinking. Slowly, from the darkness appears a pale man dressed in black, walking while looking down. Man Mumbles something. The man continues walking over the bridge….out of the park. He passes a homeless man. The homeless man screams at him, "God is dead! God is dead!" Holds up the issue of Time.

Man (mumbles): Yes. I wrote that article.

Scene fades to man's apartment. The "God is Dead" issue of Time is hanging on the wall, framed. Furniture is sparse. It is morning and the man is cooking eggs.

Knock on the door. Man goes and opens it.

Man: Yes?

A man dressed in bright green it at the door, with a book in his hand.

Green man: Sir, have you brought God into your heart? We must spread his good news to the world so that ALL can be saved.

Man: There is no God. There is nothing. We live, we die. End of story. What if I'm right? What if life is one big fucking joke? Shouldn't I be the one laughing instead of someone else?

Green Man: Mister, your path is filled with darkness. Follow Jehova! Let the word of God light your way!

Man: God is DEAD! I should know. I killed him.

Man shuts doors. Returns to cooking eggs.

Events fuse together. Man goes to work in a large skyscraping office building, in a large room. He reads. He writes on the computer. People move in and out of his office. Flashes of light in between events. No sounds.

Next scene shows the man at an oriental restaurant.

Waiter: May I help you sir?

Man: Yes. I would like lunch. (He points to a lobster in the tank behind him.) I would like him for lunch.

The Lobster is removed from the tank. His neck is snapped in front of the man.

Waiter: Very good sir. Please take a seat.

Man eats the lobster, and there are sounds of cracking. He also drinks beer. At one point he looks the lobster in the eye. It seems to stare back. The lobster's eyes seem to be crying….blood.

Work scene. Everything is in fast forward.

Man leaves the office and heads to a massage parlor. He is lying on his back, being massaged by an unseen figure in a pure white robe. At first glance, the figure has dark skin. As we see another view, the figure appears to be supernaturally black, so black that he almost fades away into the darkness of the room. His eyes are very bright, sparkling, almost diamond-like, like miniature stars.

Robed Figure: So, you're the one who wrote that article? You're the one who thinks God is dead?

Man: Yes, that's me.

Robed Figure: It's a very well written article. My boss even took the time to read it. He thought it was funny.

Man: Funny? You have one hell of a twisted boss. That was an award winning article. It made me famous.

Robed Figure: I'm sure it did. Hmmm. I wonder who was behind that? But seriously, do you really believe God is dead? Do you really believe in nothing?

Man: Yes. We like to say, "Nihilism. There's nothing to it."

Robed Figure: So, no God, no devil, no luck. Humph. What about heaven?

Man: Another delusional fantasy. Why do you bother with all of it?

Robed Figure: It works for me. (Looks up). And I've had some interesting conversations.

Man makes no response.

Robed Figure: So, why do you do anything at all them?

Man: I've already mastered pretty much everything. I write for Time instead of wasting my many talents.

Robed Figure: That seems alright. You know, I never did get you name.

Man: I'm Mr. Quash.

Robed Figure: And what is your first name Mr. Quash, if I may inquire?

Mr. Quash: Just Mr. Quash. Nothing else.

Robed Figure: Very well then, Mr. Quash. My name is Michael. It has been nice chatting with you. I wish you well.

Michael walks to the third story window. Walks out and leaves his robe behind in a pile. Mr. Quash slowly gets up. He puts his shirt and pants on and goes over to inspect the robe. Suddenly, as he is looking down to the ground from the window, what seems like shooting stars are coming up at him. Mr. Quash falls back from the window, to the floor. Standing in the window is a figure so black that he blends in with the night behind him. Immense brightly-shining wings are open behind him. His hair is long, wavy, and silver. As he shakes his head, the hair scatters light from the wings everywhere.

Angel: Mr. Quash! I am Michael, archangel of high heaven, your guardian. I offer you one chance to serve. Become an emissary of God. Let your soul be saved.

Mr. Quash: This…this….this is a dream…(stammering. Mouth open, hiding his face from the light)

Michael: I assure you that the Dream King Morpheus has no part in this. I come as a messenger of Light.

Mr. Quash: No! You're not real. There is NO God, you're just some fancy piece of special effects left over in my subconscious from watching The Matrix too many times.

Michael: Follow your heart. I offer you a chance for everlasting life.

Mr. Quash: I will NOT be seduced by you and your preposterous self-affirming bullshit. All you do is preach about some "Carebear" afterlife, mocking the importance of the entire fucking world I live in. What about the here and now? I don't care about Heaven. There is NOTHING after, we just live, we just die, and you don't even let us do that. There is no god. My heart, like the rest of my body, is full of blood. Now, get out of that ugly costume, take off that cheap excuse for a wig, unplug yourself, and jump out that window. And leave me alone!

Michael steps backwards, out of the window, and the light leaves with him.

Mr. Quash jumps into his car after leaving the massage parlor. The night is bright. The moon is dark, but the stars are eerie and bright. Mr. Quash goes home, a little quickly, but not outwardly agitated. He drinks a few beers, then goes to sleep.

Next morning, in the shower. Listening to the news from the radio. Emerges from the shower, in a black silk robe. He is drying off his hair, when there is a knock at the door.

Mr. Quash opens the door.

Small child: Prince of Darkness Courier Service with a proposal delivery for a Mister, um, Squash? Quash, I'm sorry. Are you Mr. Quash?

Mr. Quash: Yes, that's me. What do you have?

Small Child: Well, sir. I have a proposal for you. My boss would like you to consider the following offer: (reads) Lucifer Morningstar, crown price of the nether realm, has entrusted the key to one of his major temporal establishments to his faithful servant Damian. That would be me. The key, and with it the possession of this business, will become yours, if you so choose, simply by giving to Lucifer Morningstar ownership of your metaphysical self.

Mr. Quash: Just hold on a sec. You're trying to tell me that you're working for the Devil? And that he wants my soul in exchange for some shitty little shop? Kid, you really need to lay off the late-night movies. Get outta here.

Damian: My boss doesn't like to hear no. He gets pretty pissed off. The key is for the Dibbuk Brewery. It's a big company. Just sign the paper, it won't hurt a bit.

Mr. Quash: Listen Kid. I don't know who put you up to this prank, but it's getting tiring. Time for you to get outta here if you don't wanna get hurt. All this Devil and Lucifer and soul stuff doesn't mean anything either. I don't buy into any of it.

Damian: You don't know what you're doing mister. I really think you should just do it.

Mr. Quash: Brewery you say? Hmm. That's something I've never done. Come in then.

Damian enters, and Mr. Quash closes the door behind him. There is the sound of screaming, and something falling. We see blood seep out from under the closed door. We hear Mr. Quash, he opens the door, with blood covering his hands and shirt. He looks directly forward, as if talking to someone.

Mr. Quash: Nothing, I felt nothing. Even with this, it's meaningless. Ah, well. I think I'll have some free beer.

He pulls out the key and a paper. Reads the address to himself.

Mr. Quash arrives at the Dibbuk Brewery with the large key. It is a red building, even the windows seem to have a red glow. It has a very dark and musty feel. He walks in, past large vats mixing unknown steaming substances. He heads to a door labeled Manager. He unlocks it. It is a large office, with many pictures of abstract art and various icons. A large leather chair sits behind a desk of black granite. He surveys the office, looking at some of the artwork, such as one called "The Birth of the Universe." It shows the cosmos and underneath is a giant illuminated hand.

Mr. Quash, mumbling: The Birth of the Universe….hmm.

On the desk, is sitting a red bottle of beer, a bottle of Dibbuk Beer. Mr. Quash takes a drink, and seems to enjoy the taste.

There is a knock on the door. A shifty man in a suit enters, with large glasses on.

Man: So, you're Mr. Quash I take it. Welcome. I'm Stan. I'm the supervisor. Let me show you around.

Stan and Mr. Quash are seen walking around the plant, looking at various rooms and machinery. They are seen meeting various people, shaking hands. They come to another office door. The word Assistant is printed on the door.

Stan: This is Mr. Star's office. He's the master of the facilities, only because he likes to keep things clean. Mr. Star will be your personal assistant. He will provide you with anything you need.

Stan opens the door. Mr. Quash walks in. An older looking man is humbly dressed, in something that resembles a janitor's outfit. He is washing his hands.

Mr. Star: Oh, hello. Come in. You must be Mr. Quash. Welcome to the Brewery. Is there anything I can get you? A cigar or a drink?

Mr. Quash: No thanks.

Mr. Quash and Mr. Star continue talking, inaudibly. Flash forward. We see Mr. Quash going through his routine, drinking beer, checking the clock. Meanwhile, Mr. Star is out talking to some homeless women. They seem to be nodding in ascent.

Mr. Quash and Mr. Star and in the Manager's office discussing the latest revenues. They look tired, the day has been long.

Mr. Star: So, Mr. Quash, is there anyone for you to go home to?

Mr. Quash: No, no. I don't believe in marriage.

Mr. Star: Ha. That's funny. Neither do I. But we should satisfy our human impulses, shouldn't we?

Mr. Quash: True.

Mr. Star: Mr. Quash, I am a very resourceful man, and I believe I know exactly what you need. Would you care to take a minute to listen to my proposal?

Mr. Quash: Sure. This should be entertaining.

Mr. Star: I've made a lot of deals in my time. Of course, the nature of my work leaves many people indebted to me. Quite a few of these people are women. If you'd like, I can arrange for you to meet some of them.

Mr. Quash: Ahh….but then would I be in your debt?

Mr. Star: Very smart. I knew you were a smart man. Yes, but those are terms we can discuss later. Or perhaps I'll simply take your soul. If you bother to believe in such rubbish.

Mr. Quash: No, I don't.

Mr. Star: Then here are my terms: I will provide you with a different woman each night. All I ask is that you never question where they are from and what happens to they afterwards. Are we agreed?

Mr. Quash: Agreed.

They toast red bottles of Dibbuk Beer and drink.

There are various scenes of women entering Mr. Quash's apartment. Other scenes of him making love to women with different colored hair. Then images of the morning after. There is an empty space. No women are ever there when he wakes the morning after.

Mr. Quash continues to feel nothing towards these women. For some reason, this doesn't seem to disturb him. He is seen talking to the women on occasion.

Mr. Quash: Yes? Come in. It's open.

Woman: Hi. I'm Angela.

She looks at the God is Dead magazine on the wall.

Angela: Did you write this?

Mr. Quash: Yes I did.

Angela: I've read this article at least a hundred times. It convinced my to become a nihilist. I used to be Catholic you see….but I was always asking questions I could never get answers to. Then I read your article. I realized that the reason no one could answer my questions was the there were no answers out there. We just live. Now everyday has it's own individual nature.

Mr. Quash is very impressed.

Mr. Quash: You're a very interesting girl, Angela. Would you like a drink?

Mr. Quash and Angela are seen drinking Dibbuk Beer from red bottles. They are sitting on a couch, laughing, talking, and becoming progressively more drunk.

Mr. Quash: Angela, can I ask you something?

Angela: sure.

Mr. Quash: Angela, where did you come from? How did you know to come here?

Angela: I'm homeless. A man came to me and asked if I wanted a place to stay with some food. He said that he had a friend who liked female company. I hadn't eaten in two days. I said I'd do it. He gave me your address. But…you're nothing like what I expected. Nothing at all….

She looks at him. He is nervous, but still obviously drunk. He moves in as well. They kiss. The scene moves to the bedroom, and they are making love. We can even see Mr. Quash smiling, kissing Angela passionately after they are finished.

There is a complicated dream sequence. Mr. Quash is falling, amidst fire. Angela is there as well, but he cannot reach here. All the while, there is laughter. The God is Dead issue of Time appears, and then we see an empty janitor suit, with the name Mr. Star. Then the dream is filled with shooting stars. Mr. Quash suddenly wakes. He is alone. He looks next to him.

Mr. Quash: No. Not this time. Angela? Damn you!

He looks at the clock. It seems to be mocking him.

Mr. Quash: Time, not once could I be free of your incessant motion. Everyone lives by your code, your rules, your demands. Do you mock us? I wonder. And was it people who created Time, to bring us such misery? Why, why could you not leave me for a moment, just a brief moment, one brief instance outside of time. I served you without question, and again, you leave me with nothing. Damn it all!

He throws on his clothes and goes to his front door. He passes through and is suddenly inside his office at the Brewery. He turns to find his door closed behind him.

Mr. Star turns around in his chair.
Mr. Star: You know, Dibbuk is a Jewish word. I love the irony of that. They don't believe in me but they end up as drunk as everyone else from my beer. A controlling little demon in each little red bottle. So, is that your excuse? Are you going to blame it on the beer?

Mr. Quash: Damn you. I should have seen through you. You knew.

Mr. Star: It was only a matter of time. "Nihilism: There's nothing to it." Very cute. Have you stayed true to your name, disproving God's little Petri dish? A little harder than you thought, wasn't it?

Mr. Quash: You're Francis Allen Star.

F. Allen Star.

Fallen Star. Ha. Clever. What did you do with Angela?

Mr. Star: Call me Lucifer. God does. Why don't you find out for yourself?

Mr. Star points to the door.

Mr. Quash goes through the door. He is outside in the night. It is night. Angela is standing there. Behind her is the archangel Michael, his shining wings spread wide, ready to fly.

Michael: She was yours. You were destined for joy, but you turned away. You dared to dream that the fallen Lucifer Morningstar could fulfill your needs, yet you denied Heaven's chance. Hypocrite!"

Michael taken Angela in his arms and ascends. Mr. Quash sees the Lucifer emerge from the void of darkness that is left behind as Michael's brightness departs.

Lucifer's Wings open, they are red and gnarled and burned, with no feathers.

Lucifer: Always the janitor. I get stuck cleaning the little messes of creation. God may have left you alone, but I wasn't going to stand not being believed in. After all I've done for this world, to NOT EVEN be acknowledged. You wounded my pride. I couldn't stand for that. God still dead, hmm? Because you sure are. You think you can imagine hell? Or eternity? You've seen nothing yet Mr. Quash… (blackness)… nothing at all."

Child as messenger. Damian. Lucifer wants Quash to run a brewery. Key. Dibbuk (Jewish folklore: a demon that enters the body of a living person and controls that body's behavior) Brewery. People keep dying at the brewery, forced to find new people. Janitor - Lucifer - Mr. Star. Makes deal with Janitor for women. Quash sleeps with them, kills them, and janitor cleans them up so no one knows. Quash dreams of a woman. She comes to work for the company. He is seen talking to her, mostly looking at her. He learns she is a Nihilist and is fascinated. He is drunk one night and ends up sleeping with her. In the morning she is gone. He makes as address to Time. Wishing there had been more with her. He walks out of his room. It is night. She is standing here. Behind her is Michael. "She was yours. You were destined for joy, but you turned away. You dared to dream that the fallen Lucifer could fulfill your needs, yet you denied Heaven's chance. Hypocrite!" Quash sees the janitor emerge from the void of darkness left behind as Michael's brightness leaves. "God may have left you alone, but I wasn't going to stand not being believed in. After all I've done for this world, to NOT EVEN be acknowledged. You wounded my pride. I couldn't stand for that. God still dead? Because you sure are. Think you can imagine hell? Or eternity? You've seen nothing yet… (blackness)… nothing at all."