The Artist's Suicide Club

(A small apartment is the scene of a recent death. The body is covered and taken out on a stretcher as the occupant, a man named Gerald, speaks with police.) Gerald: He's the third person with talent I know who ended up killing himself. Makes me wish I didn't have talent. Officer: You're an artist, too? Gerald: I'm not an artist until the industry says I'm an artist - even if they already cashed in most of my life-work and made stars out non-artists with it. Officer: But they can't decide who has talent and who doesn't. Only God can do that. Gerald: The industry thinks it's greater than God. They have a stronger hold on the minds of the population. Officer: Can't you release your music independently? What about itunes? Gerald: The industry blocks out all my views. The only way I could make money on the internet is if I left the country and opened up an account somewhere far away. But I can't afford the ticket. And I'd only be guessing where to go. Officer: Can't you work? Gerald: I'm disabled now. No employment allowed. No decent reputation allowed. Officer: So what are you going to do? Gerald: Probably kill myself. My talent's just going to waste in this world. Officer: Well, before you do anything too irreversible, take this card. It's a membership for the Artist's Suicide Club. Maybe you just need to get together with some other folks who've been down the same road you have. Gerald: Great! I'd like to see them right away. Where can I meet them? Officer: Just go down to the cemetery at midnight with your membership card and an open mind.
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© 2007, 2013. Scripts by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.