RONNIE ROCKET
OR
The Absurd Mystery of
The Strange Forces of Existence
Property of:
David Lynch
Registered with
W.G.A.
Black . . . fade in a giant stage . . . enormous with black cur-
tains--open. The entire stage is filled with a wall of fire
200 feet high. Within the fire are thousands of souls screaming
out silently . . . only the roaring of the fire.
FADE OUT
There is a dark land where mysteries and confusions abound, where
fear and terror fly together in troubled cities of absurdities.
Black clouds race by over a soot-covered city, where it is dark-
est night. Only a few tiny yellow squares of light in the old
buildings and factories. Everything is so dark. Very little
life is noticed except the tiny dark yellow squares. There are
no cars seen from this high angle looking down over the city--no
people out this night.
A closer look at some of the buildings reveals a thirties style
architecture, although quite plain and very massive. Office
buildings with heavy industrial factories. A smoke stack pours
tons of heavy black smoke slowly and silently into the dark night
sky. Hundreds of heavy electrical wires crisscross through
the sky and electricity hums come from giant boxes on the poles.
The headlights and then a car--it moves slowly below, down a
street then turns out of signt. An old neon sign over a diner
says "City Diner." A large old hospital and the, front steps.
Inside a nurse goes by wheeling a patient on a rolling bed.
The corridor is now empty. Moving slowing through the empty
corridor. An open steel door.
Down now two flights of cement stairs and along a dark and moist
corridor off of which sit decaying subterranean hospital rooms.
We hear the heavy machinery that keeps the massive building ope-
rating. Pipes leak rusted festering water into puddles on the
cold floor.
Entering one of these small decaying rooms we see an old hospital
bed. A dim name tag on the end of the bed bears the name RONALD
DE ARTE.
In the bed, under the white sheets, lays RONALD DE ARTE who,
because of some strange unnamed happening is now here quite dis-
figured. There is no human form to him really except he does
have arms and legs, but they're under the sheets. The chest
and head area are very strangely shaped, but there is a hole
for a mouth and a nose. In the mouth there are teeth and a tongue
which moves. There are two eyes above the nose hole. The eyes
dart back and forth.
Suddenly, and quite mysteriously there is a detective now standing
in this room. He wears black pants and shoes, a white shirt,
a black jacket which is now hanging on a rack over against the
cement wall. Over his shirt, he wears leather straps and a
shoulder holster which supports a .38 pistol under his arm.
He is standing, looking at the hospital bed. Ronald De Arte'
is now making some sounds--very high pitched whines and is
attempting to reach a piece of paper which lies on a moveable
steel tale next to his bed. The Detective moves in closer and
hands the paper to Ronald who contorts in order to get his arm
over to it. More high pitched whines and a knocking of his hand
on the table near a pencil which leaps with every hit lets the
Detective know that Ronald now requires a pencil with which to
write. Ronald very shakily scribbles out the following symbols
and all the while he makes very long, high pitched whines:
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