CROWD: We love ya!
OCAMPOS: Wha–? [adjusts bathrobe]
CROWD: You’re a mentor!
OCAMPOS: [fumbles in bathrobe’s pocket for a cigarette. Pulls out a slightly bent, unfiltered Camel. Fumbles for lighter. Farts silently. Wind blows across his pelotas. He peers down at the crowd from the patio. Mild panic at a sudden mild tumescence in his “loins.”]
[A PARTICULAR WOMAN in the crowd makes eye-contact with Ocampos. She is the one. He is the one. Ocampos looks pointedly away. An URCHIN hurls a bouquet onto the balcony. It is damp and dirty and grazes Ocampos’s bare, hairy shin.]
CROWD: Come down! We want to devour you!
OCAMPOS: [Inhaling deeply on the cigarette] I’d love to, I really would. It’s just that — the medicine — I don’t think— my breakfast—
URCHIN: Come down! I wish to devour you!!
OCAMPOS: [Turns back toward the door to his bedroom. The breeze has picked up. His hair now points southeast. His ass looks pretty good to the crowd, through his terrycloth bathrobe. The URCHIN throws a digital meal from Castlevania onto the patio]
[The SPECIAL WOMAN has wrapped her face in a cheesecloth and bustles rushédly into the building. The security guards look the other way. She is wearing a little bit of makeup.]
TO BE CONTINUED…