alittlepoison

Two late-thirties executive men are surprised to meet each other in the street - they were friends while at primary school. Man A invites man B around to a dinner party he and his wife are having that evening. Man B attends and is a master of charming conversation. Before the cheese board is brought out, he excuses himself from the table and asks where the bathroom is. It’s upstairs.

He’s having a good time. As he urinates, he smiles to himself. He washes his hands, and looks at the bric-a-brac on the shelf next to the sink. His mouth drops. In between other items, there is a 1970s battered Superman figure. Initially he’s really happy - he hasn’t seen it for twenty five years. He inspects it under the light and a slow rage creeps over him as he realises that it was stolen from him. He remembers it disappearing all that time ago. “That fuck - that thieving fuck…”

We see them back at the table. A lady is flirting with Man B, but he can’t engage himself in a proper conversation. We see he’s got the Superman under the table. He’s sweating a little. Aside from that the party goes on well.

Later on, the guests (and Man B) are sitting in the minimalist sitting room. Man A comes around with Irish coffees in tall glasses with silver handles. He is telling them about how he met the coffee farmer in Guatemala, and how he sourced the whiskey from an Irish company he deals with. “I’m just going to borrow Peter for a moment” he smiles at the room, “come on Pete… I’ve got something you’d like to see”

He’s led into a reception room, where he’s pushed against the wall. Man A is furious. “Where the shit is he?” Peter’s pockets are frisked. Superman is pulled out of his trouser pocket. “What the fuck is this Peter?” Man A’s wife is sitting on a chaise lounge watching. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Peter is punched in the stomach. “Go - and as cordially as you can - say goodbye to everyone”

The party’s over. Superman is carefully placed back in the bathroom. The same night Peter cries himself to sleep.

At some point later, during the day, Peter goes back to Man A’s house. The wife answers the door. He asks if Man A (let’s call him Tom) is in, he’d like to apologise. “Come in,” she tells him, “but Tom’s working. Do you smoke? I’m smoking. Do you want a drink?” She walks him into the living room, and as she does she smiles and stumbles a little - she’s a little tipsy. The furniture has been rearranged, and red sheets have been draped around the room. She sits on the sofa and stares at him.

Despite his best intentions, Peter becomes more and more angry as he tells Tom’s wife about what went through his head when he was in the bathroom. He weeps a little. “Come on Peter, I’m not angry with you” She opens a cigarillo case and takes out a pre-rolled joint. “Do you smoke? I’m going to light this”. They smoke. Peter starts laughing, “I mean, we were little friends. It’s just a little toy… I don’t know why…” She has her hand on his groin, leans over, kisses him. Seduces him. There is a long and partially explicit sex scene. In the act, she lights another pre-rolled joint. She laughs as the ash drops into the hair on his chest, and she playfully blows it out. The sex ends. Peter is so oblivious and relaxed that he smiles and sleeps.

He’s awoken by the smell of a fine cappuccino. Through the blur of freshly awoken eyes, he sees Tom sitting at the kitchen table. Tom is tapping his fingers lightly on the surface in a considered manner.

“Why, Peter… why are you wearing a condom?”

Peter sits up. Tom stares at him as he quietly removes the prophylactic and puts his clothes on. It’s dark outside. Peter’s about the say something, but then changes his mind. The wife is sitting on the sofa reading a book about horses. Peter runs. Tom chases. They run upstairs. Peter locks himself in the bathroom.

THE SIEGE. The first thing he does is put the superman in his pocket. He goes over to the window. It’s too high up to drop out of. Tom is knocking angrily on the door. “I’ve only just decorated this room, Peter. Don’t make me knock my way through the door.” Peter washes his face to the sound of an increasingly manic, cursing Tom. He brushes his teeth. “I’m brushing my teeth, Tom! I’m probably using your toothbrush!” He combs his hair. He daubs on a little found aftershave. He opens the door, brandishing the little Superman. “Hah!” He punches Tom down the stairs, leaps over him, opens the front door and keeps running.

Cut to: a comic fan shop. It is at some point in the future. The bearded man behind the counter is inspecting the Superman.

“It’s a replica action figure. They made a shit load of them in the early nineties.”

We see Peter, with a wild beard and unkempt clothes. He takes back the figure and holds it to his face.

“Oh Superman, what hast thou done?”

END