VANCE TREND 8: “VIPER VANCE” SCRIPT EXTRACT 2 (COMEDY)

 

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12. INT. SAN LORENZO HAIRDRESSING SALON, IN LONDON. (STUDIO) DAY.

Sorrento and father LORENZO, a well-oiled Spaniard, at work on CLIENTS. Another HAIRDRESSER about. Upbeat music from 2006-2007 playing.

SORRENTO:
Imagine how I’d feel if my virility, or my virility combined with that of Vance Trend’s virility, resulted in Vance Trend’s early death?

Lorenzo nods urgently, whispers in both their Client’s ears. They turn and nod understandingly as Lorenzo leads Sorrento by the arm into an alcove.

LORENZO:
Early death? Vance Trend is over 60 with millions to his name. Millions!

Sorrento taken aback by this side to his father.

LORENZO: (CONT’D)
(gestures to chest) You should both go on Viagra to excel performance further.

SORRENTO:
What are you saying, papa? What are you saying?

Lorenzo looks unrepentant.

LORENZO:
I make no bones about it. I want Vance Trend’s inheritance through my own son.

SORRENTO:
But why? That’s theft.

LORENZO:
Having put up with his prattling self-important grandiose ego ever since the 60s…why, it is no more than I deserve. It is no more, no less, than you deserve. I cannot imagine how you must feel – a boy who could have any woman he wants-  (cut off)

SORRENTO:
(cutting in) -Papa.

LORENZO:
(gestures) OK, OK. Any man he wants. And to have to remain faithful to him.

Before Sorrento can say anything, Lorenzo gestures him irritably down.

LORENZO: (CONT’D)
But the Lord move in mysterious ways. His wonders to perform. I need Trend dead.

SORRENTO:
But why, papa? Why? You say you need the money, but why?

LORENZO:
Why? Why? Always why? Why, in order to open a hairdressing boutique in every city across the world. That is why, why, why! That is always why!

SORRENTO:
No, papa.

Lorenzo starts to come down to earth, his anger muted.

LORENZO:
What was that?

SORRENTO:
I said no, papa.

Lorenzo grabs hold of Sorrento’s arms.

LORENZO:
Why no, my son? You tell me now. Why no?

Sorrento looks at his father through tearstained eyes.

SORRENTO:
You ask me to commit murder. And I say no. (dabs tears) You must accept you’ll always be known as San Lorenzo of Barnes, South West London, papa.

Lorenzo’s eyes widen in disbelief and he clutches his heart. Sinking to his knees fast.

One arm rises upwards as Sorrento looks down in absolute misery.

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